#something deep within me has emerged

[greatcometcas]

ANNIE & FINNICK in MOCKINGJAY PT. 2 ↳ released November 20, 2015 ‧ dir. Francis Lawrence

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (Car sex)

Car sex isn’t something for König, or at least that’s what he thought before he met you. He’s huge, those long legs doesn’t even fit into the driving seat without bumping his knees, and he always has to be extra careful when shifting his body, so he won’t hit his head on the roof. Squeezing into his car is already a hard task for him, let alone trying to fuck someone within it.

You changed his mind, though. Always wearing those short skirts that barely cover your pretty ass, with a thong—or even without any underwear if you feel extra naughty that day— sparing you both from the trouble to take off your clothes in the cramped vehicle.

Just like tonight, your white skirt rides up to your hips, the exquisite pink thong he bought for you nudged aside as you sit on his lap,

“Scheiß, keep going, Süße, just like that, keep bouncing on my cock…” König’s panting heavily as he encouraging you to continue. He has lowered the seat, letting it lean back so he can give you more space to do your work. He loves the view, looking up at you fucking yourself on his fat dick, tits bouncing with every movements while you slam your ass down, taking his cock so well, and from this angle, he’s able to see how your perfect cunt wrapped around him, juices coating his cock, covering its every inches and veins as the fat tip of his emerges and disappears into it repeatedly.

“Want to come, baby, can’t last long.” Bracing yourself with both hands on his chest, you look down to meet his deep blue eyes, picking up the pace after he gets too excited from seeing the desires in your glossy eyes and rock his hips upwards into you briefly. You can’t help the moans and whimpers slipping out of your lips, not when his cock rutting into you and the veins glide against the g spots and all during its way.

“Come for me, liebe, come for me…” His hands now rest on your hips, pinning you on his cock when you nod and scream out his name in pleasure, and coaxing his own orgasm out with your warm cunt clenching down in release.

“Let’s go home?” You lift your head up from his chest and suggest, while you still pout without you even noticing when he pulls out, already missing how well it stretched you just minutes ago although he just ended up with a load inside you.

“Ja, let’s go home.” He tugs at your thong, staining with obvious white cum standing out from the pink fabric, let it cover up that swollen clit and puffy lips again and give it a pat.

A huff of laughter escaping his throat when König sets you back on the passenger seat, he can tell you’re still needy from the little pout of your plump lips. Don’t worry, Engel, he still got the whole night for you, and as an appreciation for your hard work, he’ll bend you over all your favorite places in home, fuck you nicely with his monstrous cock till you squirt and drenching him in your juices.

[lubdubology]

Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV.  You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it. 

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops. 

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane. 

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull. 

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you. 

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice. 

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile. 

+++

The Void was bullshit. 

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here. 

Maybe. 

You weren’t really sure.  

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying. 

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in. 

Figure out a way back to him. 

Back home. 

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to. 

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam. 

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there. 

Just in case. 

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere. 

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly. 

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count. 

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction. 

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight. 

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?” 

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—” 

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form. 

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.” 

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air. 

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint. 

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue. 

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air. 

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield. 

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp. 

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight. 

His silent encouragement is enough. 

You are not dying in the fucking Void. 

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm. 

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black. 

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you. 

+++

You wake up in the cache. 

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat. 

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan. 

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse. 

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.” 

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion. 

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating. 

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his. 

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism. 

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness. 

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.” 

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low. 

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough. 

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry. 

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone. 

But you can’t think about it. 

Not now. 

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Logan. 

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally. 

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.” 

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you. 

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here. 

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into. 

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space. 

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests. 

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes. 

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up. 

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine. 

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe. 

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope. 

Logan huffs. “Probably not.” 

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to. 

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly. 

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.” 

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.” 

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on. 

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself. 

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. 

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting. 

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him. 

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick. 

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies. 

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her. 

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides. 

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice. 

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips. 

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.” 

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead. 

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle. 

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly. 

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?” 

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls. 

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom. 

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits. 

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself. 

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind. 

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.  

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one. 

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating. 

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it. 

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.” 

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear. 

“I am your home,” you reply softly. 

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate. 

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer. 

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air. 

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours. 

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need. 

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like. 

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion. 

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage. 

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement. 

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws. 

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole. 

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”. 

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain. 

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head. 

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue. 

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain. 

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders. 

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it. 

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants. 

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him. 

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours. 

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws. 

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful. 

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep. 

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel. 

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh. 

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes. 

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you. 

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction. 

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips. 

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming. 

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly. 

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest. 

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready. 

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements. 

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock. 

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation. 

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan. 

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.” 

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest. 

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you. 

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back. 

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck. 

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake. 

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs. 

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you. 

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you. 

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full. 

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart. 

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.” 

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him. 

[amirasainz]

Hey could you do maybe leclerc sister has appendix all of the sudden and they take her to emergency and maybe is just the recuperation and it scares them family and everything

Of course, I can. Sorry for the long wait but I had a lot to do with school. Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

Hospital night's

The house was quiet, the soft hum of the late-night breeze barely audible through the open windows. It was one of those rare moments when everything felt peaceful. Everyone was sound asleep — Lorenzo in his room, Charles in his, Arthur tucked under his blanket, and their mother softly snoring in her bed. But not everyone was at ease.

In the room at the end of the hall, their little sister, YN, tossed and turned. Her stomach hurt. Not the kind of ache that would go away after a few minutes, but a deep, sharp pain that kept getting worse. She winced, her face scrunching up in discomfort as she pressed her hand to her lower abdomen. The young girl tried to take deep breaths, hoping the pain would pass, but it only intensified, stabbing at her like a knife.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain became unbearable. YN whimpered, then groaned aloud, clutching her stomach tightly. She was terrified, and the only thought in her mind was that she needed help — right now.

Without thinking, she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled down the hall. She paused outside Arthur’s door, panting heavily, her hand still pressed against her side. She didn’t want to wake anyone, but the pain was too much. She knocked softly at first, but when no response came, she knocked harder, then called out.

“Arthur… Arthur, please…” Her voice was strained, barely above a whisper, but filled with desperation.

Arthur stirred, groaning as he turned over in bed, blinking groggily. “YN? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

But then he saw her. The dim light from the hallway showed her tear-streaked face, her body hunched over in pain, and his heart jumped into his throat. Panic set in instantly.

“YN?!” Arthur bolted upright, scrambling out of bed. “Bebe, what happened? Are you okay?” His voice trembled as he rushed to her side.

“I-I don’t know,” YN sobbed, clutching her side tighter. “It hurts so much… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Arthur’s eyes widened in fear. He’d never seen his sister like this before. Sweat poured down her face, and her breathing was labored. Without another word, Arthur grabbed her hand and started shouting.

“Mama! Lorenzo! Charles!” he screamed, his voice echoing down the halls. “Help! Something’s wrong with YN!”

In an instant, the entire house was awake. Footsteps thundered down the hallway, and the first to appear was their mother, still groggy and in her nightgown, but wide-eyed with concern.

“Arthur, what—” Pascale froze when she saw her daughter, her maternal instincts kicking in immediately. She rushed to her daughter’s side, crouching down to her level, brushing the hair away from her damp forehead. “Mon dieu, what’s wrong, ma chérie? Where does it hurt?”

YNcould only whimper, clutching her stomach harder. “My stomache… It hurts so much, Mama…”

By then, Lorenzo and Charles had appeared, both looking alarmed and confused.

“What’s going on?” Lorenzo asked, his face pale as he looked from his sister to his mother and back to Arthur.

“It’s her stomach,” Arthur explained, his voice shaking. “She’s in so much pain, she woke me up.”

Charles knelt beside YN, his heart racing. “It’s okay, ma puce. We’re here,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with worry. “We’ll figure this out, okay? Just breathe.”

But YN couldn’t. The pain was unbearable, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she gasped for air.

“We need to take her to the hospital,” Pascale said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “This isn’t normal.”

“Hospital? Now?” Arthur’s voice cracked. He was terrified.

“Yes, Arthur, now,” Lorenzo replied, already grabbing his phone and car keys. “We can’t wait.”

Within minutes, they had bundled YN into the car, her head resting on her mother’s lap as she groaned softly, her hand still clutching her side. Charles sat beside her, holding her hand tightly, while Arthur sat in the passanger seat, his wide eyes filled with panic.

The drive felt like an eternity. Each minute seemed to drag on as YN’s soft cries filled the car. Every time she whimpered in pain, Arthur’s stomach flipped. He kept looking at Charles and Lorenzo, hoping one of them would say something to make it better, but no one spoke.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, the nurses quickly took YN into a room, and a doctor came to examine her.

"Ma'am, we're going to have to take her in for some tests," the doctor said calmly, though the look in his eyes was serious. "It could be her appendix. We need to confirm, but we may have to perform surgery right away."

"Surgery?" Arthur nearly choked on the word, his eyes widening. He turned to Charles. "Surgery? But she was fine earlier today…"

Charles clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “They’ll fix her. We have to trust them.”

Their mother nodded, though her face was pale. “They’ll do everything they can, Arthur,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from YN’s face as the nurses wheeled her away toward the emergency room.

The waiting was agonizing. Arthur couldn’t sit still, pacing back and forth, biting his nails. Lorenzo kept his arms crossed, staring blankly at the hospital floor. Charles sat quietly, his leg bouncing up and down nervously, his eyes glued to the door they had taken their little sister through.

“What if something goes wrong?” Arthur whispered after what felt like hours. “What if… What if she—”

“She won’t,” Charles interrupted, his voice tight. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

But the truth was, Charles wasn’t sure. None of them were.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out, pulling off his gloves. “The surgery went well,” he said, offering a small smile. “Her appendix had ruptured, but we were able to remove it in time. She’ll need to rest, but she’s going to be okay.”

A wave of relief crashed over them, and Arthur felt his legs go weak as he sank into a chair, covering his face with his hands. Charles let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging, while Lorenzo placed a hand over his heart, as if steadying his rapid pulse.

“Thank you,” Pascale said, tears of gratitude in her eyes. “Can we see her?”

“She’s just waking up from the anesthesia. She might be a bit groggy, but yes, you can see her now,” the doctor replied.

The brothers practically ran to her room, their mother following behind. When they stepped inside, YN was lying in bed, her face pale but peaceful, her eyes fluttering open as she blinked at them.

“Hey,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Bebe!” Arthur rushed to her side, his eyes wide with concern. “You scared the hell out of us!”

Lorenzo chuckled weakly. “You have no idea how panicked we were.”

Charles sat on the edge of her bed, his hand gently brushing her hair back. “You okay now?”

She nodded slowly, a small, tired smile forming on her lips. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I feel… better.”

The boys immediately went into full protective mode. Lorenzo disappeared for a moment and returned with a bowl of soup from the hospital cafeteria. “Here, you need to eat something,” he said softly, holding the spoon up to her lips as she took small sips.

Charles shifted behind her, gently easing her back against his chest. “Just rest,” he murmured, running his fingers through her hair, his usual confident demeanor replaced with quiet tenderness. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Arthur, still shaken but wanting to do something to make her feel better, grabbed a small bottle of nail polish from her bag. “I’m gonna paint your nails, okay? You’ll look fabulous when you get out of here,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, though his hands were trembling.

YN giggled weakly. “You’re all ridiculous,” she muttered, but her heart swelled with love for her older brothers.

Their mother sat beside the bed, her voice soft as she opened YN’s favorite book, Le Petit Prince. “Let’s read a little, hmm? Just like we used to.”

As her mother began reading, the soft, familiar words filling the room, YN let her eyes close, her brothers and mother surrounding her with love. She felt safe. She felt cared for. And despite the pain, despite the fear, she knew she would be okay.

With her head resting on Charles’ chest, her nails being painted by Arthur, soup being spoon-fed by Lorenzo, and her mother’s gentle voice reading her favorite story, YN smiled.

Her family would always be there for her, no matter what.

[marrowdrip]

Part 1

As you step out of the walk-in closet, eyes focused on your wobbly heels, you look up at your Master, eyes shining with pride as your dress flows and shimmers, catching the light on the bright embroidered petals. But your smile fades as Master shakes his head.

"Too much, little one, try again."

You can hear the tenderness in his voice; of course... He's enjoying the show. Your head bobs and you return to the closet, cursing yourself for being such a dummy.

As your fingers leaf through the outfits on the rack, you can feel your pussy start to melt as your thoughts solidify again... Of course Master should control what his princess wears... I asked him to control me... It feels good to be controlled... After a while, you re-emerge from the closet, and you can feel something click in your brain... So warped from the constant brainwashing, the clothes you choose are shifting your attitude... Sporting a baby-pink crop top that is a touch too short, and a pleated pink microskirt that flares when you walk, a quick spin shows off your black panties, emblazoned with the words "Yes, Daddy?"" across the ass... Giggling, you give a little twirl, before innocently looking towards your Master... Your smile drops again when he shakes his head once more...

"Good try, sweetheart, but you're not quite there yet."

You can feel a tear well up, his words stinging as sharp as a spank... And yet, even wetter than your eyes is the spot on your panties, already dampening at the mere notion of control... As if in a trance, you slip into the closet and out of your outfit, peeling away your panties from your sopping wet pussy... Your thoughts are a mess as they swim around your head... I need Master to control me... Being obedient for Master makes me a good girl... I need to be a good girl..."

Wordlessly, you exit the closet, completely naked as you stand with your hand covering your dripping wet slit, your blonde hair in pig tails, leaving your sensitive little nipples on display... Eyes wide as you wonder up at Master, you beam as he nods with approval...

"Perfect, my doll, absolute perfection... Now, let's begin the inspection... Kneel."

He flashes a grin as you leak down your legs, a faint understanding of what's coming next grips your thoughts, before fading away, your head becoming as light as a pink cloud as you crawl into position, into safety... Naked, willing, eager, you smile up at him with your tongue drooling out of your mouth as you watch him slip on a pair of black leather gloves...

Part 2:

Your glutes find a comfortable position nestled between your ankles, as you kneel in anticipation. His bodyweight shifts slightly, and you catch a glimpse of the bed behind him… You crane your neck to the side to see, laying near the edge of the bed, a set of black silk rope, a black leather riding crop and a pink vibrator… The small display stirs something deep within you. Something is missing… Or… Wait… There is too much there…? What am I…? Your thoughts do not have a chance to fully form before you blink, a leather wrapped hand around your wrist; your empty stomach drops when you realize Master has been speaking. He yanks your hand up and lifts it above you, revealing a trail of nectar between your fingers, glistening in the warm light of the bedroom.

“Were you trying to hide this from me?” His words arrive to your ears in a low growl. “You know what happens to naughty girls who try to hide their arousal…” Your mouth opens to protest, but before the words can escape your lips, your breath catches. Your eyes widen and goosebumps form on your neck as you realize exactly what was missing on the bed. Time seems to slow down as Master begins to wrap a soft leather band around your neck. You sit up straight, your body instinctively taking the proper position to be collared; pushing out your chest, your nipples stand at attention as you flex your quads, drop your shoulders back and raise your chin, ever so slightly. With a click of cold steel, he clasps the collar around your throat. It is simple black leather, but with four cardinal silver rings instead of one. He attaches a medium-weight chain leash to the back ring and pulls you up, forcing you onto your tip toes… While still keeping the leash taught, he guides you forward to the bed; you can feel your pussy slicken with each tiny step… Your head flushes with embarrassment as you consider your position… I’m so depraved… I have strayed so far from who I was; I was innocent! Your heartbeat quickens as the thoughts roil in your head. Now I’m nothing but a naughty, aroused little slut who needs to be con-

*SMACK*

A loud spank rings out, followed by a stinging pain as his hand makes searing contact with your ass, the ripples of flesh and sound quickly forgotten as his voice takes a loud, commanding tone. "I told you to assume the table position, slut!" You try to think through the haze... You don't remember the last few seconds, your brain consumed with the intense fires of arousal; your body is already moving, condition from months of training. You crawl up onto the bed and place your hands closer than shoulder-width... It's not like you have a choice, but you make a conscious effort to at least you'll be a cute table... Your lips curve into a smile, the mere act of obedience flooding your brain with happy chemicals... You stay on your knees with your legs spread, and your head smiling up; He lets the chain leash glide across his palm, reaching up and attaching the end to a hook on the ceiling... Leather straps quickly appear over your limbs; Master wastes no time locking you into place... A blindfold falls over your eyes, airpods slip into your ears, and the waking world immediately feels so far away... You can hear soft sexual whimpers from the headphones, but nothing distinct; you wonder if you're the programming has begun... You shudder, your pussy shivering, exposed, natural lubricant drooling from your vulnerable slit as each symbolic loss of control brings more sexual energy through your skin and muscles...

From far away, you can hear his whisper, cutting clear through the fog of arousal... "Now slave... Let's begin."

Involuntarily swallowing as you hear his words, firm and with purpose, but his tone drips with desire... What a sight you must be to behold... Molded like a living sculpture, your body the epitome of your Owner's desires... Gasping, you feel cold wet leather on your anus, his finger slips in, and out once, quickly. Wordlessly, you open your mouth in surprise from the sensation, but his other hand moves quickly, taking advantage of your gaping as he places a ring gag between your lips, your moans and drool so much more accessible for use... The shock fades as you feel a familiar set of cloaked finger travel down to penetrate your tight, sopping wet pussy... As his fingers leave you feeling open, empty, you wait for an agonozingly long time before wondering if you zoned out during commentary... Your head is such a mess after all... Being pumped with... Programming? Brainwashing...? It's so hard to tell... It's just easier to listen and obey...

"Mmhm, I thought so; You're abnormally wet, little one... It looks like your clit will need to be inspected for... Sensitivity..."

Before you can even think to react, a pulsing vibrator is pressed up against your clit, forcing your ass into the air as you arch your back with the sudden intensity... As if on cue, you can feel something new enter your anus, but just barely... Through stimulation and clouded thoughts, you reason that He must have rubbed numbing gel in your back hole... A different vibrator has been forced into your ass. As you realize the compromising situation you're in, your face flushes as you give into the ring gag; your tongue hangs out of your mouth as you start drooling... You're trapped, barely able to move aside from humping the air, a slave for Master, and a slave to whatever sensation He wishes to put you through... Which just makes your pussy drip even more...

"I hope you're ready, little one..."

You can feel his hands caressing every inch of your skin, prodding, pinching, and pressing into your flesh as your plains and crevices are inspected... Finally, you feel his gloved digits against your clit, gently swirling small circles... Your pussy, drenched against the leather, aches for more, and you feel a swat against your hypersensitive folds, followed by a sharp whimper... You can't control yourself... The pleasure is overwhelming and the shock was too much. A single tear wells in your eye as you realize you've been reduced to your core... A dirty, depraved, filthy little slave, the furthest thing from a princess that you can recognize... As if on cue, you feel a firm, loving hand wrap around your neck and push aside some stray strands of hair from your eyes... Your thoughts calm down as you realize why Master is there... He will make you pure again... He will rebuilt your mind... You're supposed to be owned, you need Master to control your; this is what you asked for... As if reading your thoughts, his voice cuts through all of the noise.

"Don't worry, diamond... You'll feel like a perfect, empty doll again, very soon..."

Your stomach fills with warmth, and your lips smile against the gag... You can feel the long pink silicone vibrate against your drooling slit, the ropes wrapping around it and your legs, as He ties it against your clit, turning it up... up... up... Your body starts to quiver and shudder... Moans, whimpers, and squeals escape your mouth involuntarily, as you succumb to the intense pleasure... Your hands grip the sheets of the bed, as you attempt to keep a grip on reality, on the shards of remaining sanity in your brain, as you're quickly brought to the brink of orgasm, teetering on the edge...

"I'll be back in an hour, my love... Behave yourself..."

You hear a twinge of humor in his voice - as if you had a choice to do anything but obey - Good girls belong here... You know in your heart that you are a good girl... Good girls obey... As the headphones fill your mind with unintelligible thoughts of arousal, stimulation overtaking your brain, you're left with one final thought... "Thank you Master..." A silly grin forms behind your gag as your mind truly begins to melt... Any semblance of coherent thought, disappearing into the black folds of pleasure...

[blood-teeth]

"...and, at the end of it all, this is the truth of you. The truth of your ruinous, shaky hands. The truth of you whole, de-fleshed, flayed. Your bones are harbingers, your fingers methods of decay. You are the mouthpiece for death. You remember the Bhagavad Gita and I am become death, destroyer of worlds. Look at me, you say, I am Time itself, and I must one day destroy your world as I have always done. 

In the light of a long dead star, the last astronaut wakes up. After six decades, the worst has come to pass. The earth is dead, the sun has gone, and the mission to find a new, viable home has failed. There are no more horizons for humanity.

This Grave Calls You Home is a sci-fi thriller set in space after humanity is forced to leave Earth's ravaged surface following nuclear devastation and an environmental collapse. You play as an ER nurse aboard the NEW HORIZON, an immense space station courtesy of THE COALITION OF THE LAST FRONTIER. This colossal facility, a self-contained city in orbit, houses the remnants of humanity. And it is here that your days pass in monotony, caring for the irradiated people born from Earth and the critically ill, trying your best to survive the relentless demands of the Emergency Room and your own deteriorating mental health. When a patrol flagship discovers the ARCADIA-II - a long-forgotten relic from humanity's past - and finds within slumbers an astronaut who had failed at delivering humanity from destruction, the routine of your life is throughly interrupted. As the mystery of the ARCADIA-II and PROJECT ODYSSEY unfold, you learn that your part in this could mean humanity's salvation.

Or you could be its extinction.

YOU WILL LIKE THIS IF YOU LIKE: - INTERSTELLAR - THE LOCKED TOMB SERIES - BLADERUNNER - HEAVEN WILL BE MINE - TIME TRAVEL AND TIME LOOPS - GHOST STATION - ALIEN

THE LAST ASTRONAUT(M/F 25)- ALEX STERN "...my love, i no longer know what it is to be warm." The lone ranger, the last star. The failure of deliverance. Feel their breath against yours, cup their ribcage into your hands to feel the long, dead beat of their heart. You know them, you know them. You swear you do.

THE SCIENTIST (F 23) - OPHELIA VALDEZ "...in the wake of dawn," she says, "it has only ever been you." The General's daughter and the brightest mind the world has ever seen. You brush your fingers along the bone of her brow and marvel at her atoms meeting yours. maybe science is religion, you think. maybe you will bend and lick and worship her taste on your mouth.

THE ENGINEER (THEY/THEM 24) - PUCK GOODFELLOW "is that your real name?" "no," they smile. "nothing has ever been mine own. i belong to you. give me a new name. give me a new life. i am yours." The scent of engine oil and gritted teeth. Place your mouth against their neck and taste the blood of a covenant past. They hold you in their palms; you feel the promise of something greater, something before.

THE BOTANIST (M/F 25) - CAIA / CAIUS CAIN "i am no good at words. i'm good in the dirt and the roots and the trees. darling, you've been in everything i touch." the cool touch of water, liberation at their smile. Take the bite and know what it means to become. Dig your hands deep, deep in the earth and feel what it means to love.

THE MAJOR (TRANS M 27) - JONATHAN STERN "i have given my life to duty, to sacrifice, to obligation. i wish to give it to you, now, instead. it has been an honor serving you." A past marked by violence made by hands meant to touch. To soothe. He holds you tight against his chest and if you close your eyes you can still smell the smoke. He holds you like an apology. Like a prayer.

DEMO (coming soon!) - PLAYLIST - FAQ

[cherryredstars]

parent!reader waking up one day, entering the kitchen and seeing dad!miguel taking care of their 6 month old baby while he fixes breakfast for the two of them because he didn’t want to wake them up so they could get some rest, and then just absolutely getting the worst baby fever known to man, because why wouldn’t you if that’s what you were waking up to every day 🤭🤭 that is all

(also thank you for all your hard work, you are single-handedly sustaining me and I need you to know that 🥹❤️)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Wanting More Children

Summary: Early mornings with baby babbling and chocolate chips.

A/N: This request is so cutesy!!! Thank you for sending it in, love!!

Word Count: 930

Why is it so bright?

A deep groan leaves your lips as your eyes squint against the beam of sunlight coming through your window. You sigh deeply as you turn over, grumbling into your pillow and closing your eyes again. You can feel your body beginning to melt back into the mattress when you hear something clatter to the ground. On instinct, your arms push your body up as alarms start ringing in your head. Your head feels woozy from home quickly you moved, but your eyes are frantic as you look around the room. The nerve-endings firing throughout your body calm within the next second, the sound of watery baby laughter filling your room from outside. A smile forms on your face when hurried hushing follows, which only makes the laughter louder.

Slower this time, you push yourself up and out of bed. You shiver the moment your feet hit the cold wood flooring, letting out a breath. For a moment you debate on making the bed, but the sound of pans and baby clapping convinces you to save it for later. You walk towards the bedroom door, and the second you open it the smell of batter hits you. Your stomach growls in response, saliva gathering in your mouth as you open the door further and walk out and into the hallway. The further down you walk, the closer the sound of kitchen clutter and baby babbling becomes.

The moment you emerge from the hallway, you can feel the way your heart expands. You lean against the entrance, crossing your arms with a smile on your face as you take in the sight. Your baby girl babbles nonsense to her dad, kicking in her highchair with half-eaten mini chocolate chip pancakes on her tray. On the floor is a missed spot of syrup, and guessing by the discarded baby bowl on the counter, the noise from before was her playing around. Your husband stands at the stove, a mess of pancake batter, fruits, and chocolate on the counter besides him. You don't know why the man needs so many butter knives and bowls to make pancakes, but you let him do his thing since he's the one cleaning them. He responds to your baby with oh's and aw's, pouring batter into the pan and flipping it with a spatula after a few minutes.

You're content to watch the scene forever, but your baby has other plans. Sensing your presence, your baby turns to you, her already there smile growing larger at the sight of you. Her hands slap down on her tray in excitement, happy babbles leaving her. You can't help but laugh, making your way over to her and picking her up the moment she makes grabby hands at you. Her hands are slightly sticky from syrup, but you've grown used to it, already knowing you'll be showering later. Her hands come to your face, cupping each of your cheeks as she gives you a smile. You smile back, giving her a surprised face before laughing at her elated reaction.

Her eyes shift slightly away from your face, moving to something behind you. It's the only warning you get before large arms wrap around your waist. Messy curls brush against your chin as warm breath fans your neck. A soft kiss is placed on your skin and pleasant shivers run up your spine. You turn your head and smile at the sight of Miguel.

"Hey, handsome," you greet, adjusting your baby on your hip so you can run a hand through Miguel's hair. He hums against your skin, placing one last kiss before pulling his head away from your neck.

"We didn't wake you, did we?" He asks softly, his arms unraveling around your waist until his hands are planted on your hips. You shake your head, turning back to your daughter and blowing a raspberry against her cheek. She lights up at the action, babbling and trying to replicate the noise. It causes both you and Miguel to chuckle, and you melt into his chest.

Miguel has a large smile on his face when you turn to him, love clearly shining in his eyes. When he looks down at you, that look on his face softens. He leans down and you smile against his lips when he kisses you. Even after having a kid together and being in a relationship with him for so long, you can feel the butterflies pinging against the lining of your stomach.

"Thank you for making breakfast."

Miguel smiles back, shrugging. He reaches his arm out, taking hold of the corner of your darling girl's bib and wiping away a bit of drool running from her mouth. "Anything for the two of you."

You don't think your heart has ever been more full. You turn to him, opening your mouth to say something when you pause. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. "I think... your pancakes are burning."

Miguel eyes widen and he curses, ignoring your scandalized gasp and reminder that the baby is present as he rushes to the stove. Your baby simply laughs at her father, clapping her hands. You can't help but join in, shaking your head as you watch Miguel scrape burnt pancake batter off the bottom of the pan. He throws you both a playful glare, sticking his tongue out for his daughter's amusement.

As you take in the scene, you can't help but think that you wouldn't mind expanding your little family. Maybe your heart has a little room left to be filled.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BENEATH THE SURFACE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Violence: Includes detailed scenes of physical altercations and self-defense. Sexual Harassment: Depicts a non-explicit but distressing scene of unwanted touching and intimidation. Emotional Distress: Contains moments of anxiety and emotional vulnerability. Reader doesn’t know that Logan is also Wolverine.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After a terrifying encounter in a dark alley, you're rescued by the mysterious and fierce Wolverine, who effortlessly fights off your attackers. Grateful but shaken, you share a vulnerable conversation with him on your building's steps, revealing your unspoken feelings for Logan Howlett—a man who has unknowingly captured your heart. Little do you know, Logan is closer than you think, and your confession stirs something deep within him, leading to an unexpected and heartfelt turn of events.

THE CITY WAS ALIVE WITH ITS USUAL HUM AS YOU MADE YOUR WAY HOME, the sky transitioning from twilight to the deep hues of night. The streets were familiar, every corner and alley a part of your daily routine, yet tonight felt different. A certain unease settled in your stomach, though you couldn’t place why.

Your thoughts drifted, as they often did, to Logan Howlett. He was a man of few words and even fewer smiles, but something about him had captivated you from the moment you met him. You’d been introduced by Wade Wilson, your loudmouth neighbor who had an affinity for trouble and an odd sense of humor. Wade had a way of inserting himself into everyone’s lives, and through him, you found yourself drawn to Logan—despite, or maybe because of, his gruff exterior.

You had been crushing on Logan for a while now, but your feelings were met with a wall of indifference, or so it seemed. Logan was distant, always keeping you at arm’s length. You figured it was just his way, maybe even a defense mechanism. Still, it hurt, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feelings you had for him.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed the group of men until it was too late. They emerged from the shadows of an alleyway, their eyes glinting with malice. Your heart raced as you took a step back, but they quickly closed in, surrounding you.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them sneered, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Panic clawed at your chest. "I don’t want any trouble. Just let me go."

The men laughed, and before you could react, one of them reached out and grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him. You tried to pull away, but his grip was ironclad. The others circled closer, their hands brushing against your body in ways that made your skin crawl. One of them ran his hand down your back, his touch lingering far too long on places that made your stomach churn with revulsion.

"Don’t be shy now," another man whispered in your ear, his breath hot and disgusting against your skin. His hand slid up your side, fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you against the cold, hard wall of the alley. "We just want to have some fun."

Terror spiked through you as one of them pushed his hand up your shirt, his fingers cold and invasive against your skin. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, panic strangling the sound. They had you pinned, and the more you struggled, the more they seemed to enjoy it, their laughter growing more sinister with each passing second.

Just as you thought all hope was lost, a low, menacing growl echoed through the alley, freezing everyone in place. The laughter died, replaced by a tense, almost primal silence. You barely had time to process what was happening before a figure emerged from the shadows, moving with lethal precision.

Wolverine.

His eyes burned with fury, and the metallic snikt of his claws unsheathing was the only warning the men received before he was upon them. In a flash, Wolverine lunged at the man closest to you, his claws slicing through the air with deadly accuracy. The man didn’t even have time to scream before Wolverine’s claws tore into him, sending him crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.

The other men tried to scatter, but Wolverine was faster. He grabbed the man who had been holding you, lifting him effortlessly off the ground with one hand. The man’s eyes bulged with fear as Wolverine snarled, his claws glinting in the dim light before he drove them into the man’s chest, ending the threat in an instant.

The third man, now the only one left standing, attempted to flee, but Wolverine was on him in a heartbeat. With a swift, brutal strike, Wolverine sent the man flying across the alley, his body crumpling against the brick wall with a sickening thud. The alley fell silent, the danger gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Wolverine stood over the fallen men, his chest heaving with the remnants of his rage. His claws dripped with blood, and his eyes still glowed with the intensity of the fight. But as he turned to you, his expression softened, the wildness in his eyes fading to concern.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle as he retracted his claws, the deadly metal sliding back into his hands.

You nodded shakily, your body trembling with adrenaline. "I… I think so," you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, as if to reassure himself that you were truly unharmed. "Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. "No… they didn’t get the chance, thanks to you."

His jaw clenched, and you could see the anger still simmering just beneath the surface, directed not at you, but at the men who had dared to lay a hand on you. "Let’s get you home," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "It’s not safe here."

You nodded again, still too rattled to argue, and the two of you began the walk back to your place. The night felt quieter now, the earlier danger a stark contrast to the safety you felt beside him. The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. There was something about his presence that made you feel safe, even though you barely knew him.

As you walked, your mind raced with questions. Why was Wolverine here? Did he patrol this area often? And most of all, why did his presence feel so familiar? But you didn’t ask any of them. Instead, you walked beside him, your steps echoing in the quiet night.

When you finally reached your building, you hesitated at the entrance. "Would you… would you like to sit for a bit? I’m not quite ready to go inside."

Wolverine glanced around, then nodded. "Sure."

You both sat down on the steps, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The night was calm now, the danger from earlier feeling like a distant memory. Yet, your thoughts were far from calm. They kept circling back to Logan and the feelings you had tried so hard to keep at bay.

"You know," you began, not looking at him, "there’s this guy I really like. We’ve known each other for a while now, and… well, I’m pretty sure he has no idea how I feel."

Wolverine shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Why don’t you just tell him?"

You sighed, your gaze fixed on the ground. "It’s not that easy. He’s… complicated. Keeps people at a distance. I’m not sure he even sees me that way. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m wasting my time."

Wolverine remained silent, and when you glanced at him, you noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—was it unease? It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, and he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"He might have his reasons," he said after a moment, his voice unusually gentle. "Maybe he’s been hurt before. Or maybe he thinks he’s not good enough for you."

You looked up at him, surprised by the insight in his words. "Do you really think that?"

He nodded, his gaze still averted. "Yeah. Guys like that… they can be tough to figure out. But if he cares about you, he’ll come around. He just needs to realize that you’re worth the risk."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something in the way he said it, like he was speaking from experience. "I hope you’re right," you murmured, more to yourself than to him.

A brief silence fell between you before you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "His name is Logan. He’s a good guy, really… but he keeps shutting me out. I just don’t know what to do."

Wolverine stiffened beside you, his reaction subtle but noticeable. His head turned slightly, as if he was trying to gauge your expression without fully looking at you. When he spoke, his voice was lower, more hesitant. "Logan, huh?"

You nodded, feeling a pang of vulnerability as you admitted it out loud. "Yeah. I know he’s got his reasons for being the way he is, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to be close to him. From wanting him to see me… really see me."

Wolverine was quiet for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, there was a strange mix of emotions in his voice—something between surprise, guilt, and maybe even… hope? "Maybe… he already does."

You turned to look at him, confused by the shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Just… don’t give up on him. Sometimes, people need time to figure things out."

You studied him, wondering if there was more to his words than he was letting on. But before you could press further, he stood up, signaling that it was time for him to go.

"You’ll be safe now," he said, his voice back to its usual gruffness. "I should go."

You stood as well, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and sadness. "Yeah. Thanks again… for everything."

He nodded once more, and without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone on the steps.

The next morning, you were still thinking about the encounter as you got ready for the day. There was something about Wolverine that lingered in your mind, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But before you could dwell on it, a knock on your door startled you.

You opened it to find Logan standing there, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. His eyes were intense, and for a moment, you wondered if something was wrong.

"Logan?" you said, your voice laced with concern. "What’s going on?"

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to begin. "I need to talk to you."

You stepped aside to let him in, your heart pounding in your chest. "Sure. What is it?"

He didn’t sit down, instead pacing a bit before turning to face you. "There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Your breath caught in your throat. "What is it?"

He stopped in front of you, his gaze locking onto yours. "I’ve been an idiot," he said, his voice low and rough. "I’ve kept my distance because… well, because I’m no good for you. But last night made me realize something. I can’t keep ignoring how I feel."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. "Logan…"

He took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a long time. But I didn’t think I deserved you. Still don’t, if I’m being honest. But if you’ll have me… I’d like to take you out. On a real date."

You stared at him, stunned. "You… you want to go out with me?"

He nodded, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "Yeah. I do."

A smile slowly spread across your face, your heart swelling with joy. "I’d love to, Logan."

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Tonight, then?"

"Tonight sounds perfect," you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but call after him. "Logan?"

He stopped and looked back at you, a questioning look in his eyes.

"You knew, didn’t you? Last night… you were…"

Logan looked away for a moment, then nodded slowly, the weight of his admission hanging in the air. "Yeah," he said, his voice gruff but honest. "I was there. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now… more than you probably realize."

Your heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—relief, warmth, and a touch of amusement. "So you’re Wolverine," you said, more of a statement than a question. "I should’ve known."

Logan met your gaze, his expression softening. "I didn’t want you to find out like that. But when I saw those guys…" His voice trailed off, the thought of what could have happened left unspoken.

You took a step closer to him, feeling a newfound connection now that the truth was out. "Thank you for being there," you said, your voice gentle. "For always being there, even when I didn’t know it."

He nodded, the intensity in his eyes softening further. "I’ll always be there, if you want me to be."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I do, Logan. I really do."

The two of you stood there, the unspoken understanding between you solidifying into something more. Logan’s hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch both tender and reassuring. "So, tonight?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Tonight."

Logan smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. "I’ll see you then."

As he turned to leave, you felt a surge of excitement for what was to come. For the first time in a long while, the future felt bright, full of possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine.

But just as Logan reached the door, you couldn’t resist adding one more thing. "Logan?"

He paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious.

"You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing. Claws and all."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he shook his head with a grin. "And here I was, thinking I had to hide that part of me."

You shrugged playfully. "Turns out, I like you just the way you are."

Logan’s smile grew, and for a moment, you could see the walls he’d built around himself starting to crumble. "I’ll remember that."

And with that, he left, the door closing softly behind him. As you stood there, your heart full of anticipation and a sense of peace, you knew that tonight would be the start of something new—something real and wonderful, with Logan by your side

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know! 🫶

[kenananamin]

Nanami as a girl dad

Nanami is a girl dad, I will not argue or fight on this but if you think he's not... i got news for you ANYWAYS these are my Nanami headcanons as the best husband and dad and what he would do as a girl dad during pregnancy, birth, and actually raising the baby

takes a personal day off work to take you to your doctor's appointments then takes you to brunch and a movie. will hold your hand the whole time

fought HR/managers/supervisors/ANYONE for as much paternity leave as he could get

asked if he could work from home bc he doesn't want to miss a single moment of your pregnancy or newborn baby

sits on the floor to talk to his baby girl and holds your tummy saying that he's holding her hand

made 20 copies of the sonogram picture and kept them all. there's a copy in his wallet, behind his phone case, in the glove compartment, and in every suit jacket pocket close to his heart. he likes to brag about his girls (you and baby)

comes back from the store with more diapers and wipes bc "we need to be prepared"

bookmarks blog posts talking about how to bond with your baby

reads every book he can and asks the doctor more questions than any other dad who comes into the office

will ask anyone he trusts for advice, but gets defensive when someone tells him to do something differently

takes naps with his head on your lap and his lips touching your belly

has two hospital bags ready in the closet but has an emergency one in the trunk... just in case

does not sleep the whole time you're in labor even when the nurses tell him to "rest before the baby gets here"... that gets him more excited and doesn't let him sleep

tells you to dig your nails into his arm if you need to when you start pushing. kisses your entire face when the baby starts to cry and rushes to the nurse holding her to ask if they could stamp the baby's feet on his shirt/gown before cleaning her (a/n: my dad did this with me and it is the cutest thing ever. we still have the gown with the tiny feet stamped on there)

carefully takes off the shirt/gown and immediately wants to do skin-to-skin contact after you hold the baby first

follows baby to the hospital nursery and takes pictures of sleeping baby to change his wallpaper

changes wallpaper every two days bc "she did something cute" or "sticking her tongue out" or "giving me the stink eye"

loves waking up with her at night bc besides letting you rest... it's daddy-daughter time so don't interrupt

demonstrates what tummy time is while she lays on her baby bouncer (you laugh bc it's ridiculous and she's only a couple weeks old)

buys scrapbook and disposable cameras to start an album (the first of a hundred probably)

buys special clips for crib blankets to be tight and immovable around mattress bc he kept reading about possible suffocation

either way, does not like for her to sleep in her own room so he buys an extra baby moses to put in your room

has an extra diaper bag in his car bc he likes impromptu trips to let mommy rest

sulking when he has to go back to work

finds remote job within the next month

sits baby down on his lap while be works and she plays with her toy

throws an intimate 1st bday party first then a second one the next weekend to invite anyone he's ever talked to and brag about his family

literally kicks his feet and giggles with his daughter then stands up to be the most intimidating man to anyone else

tears of joy when you're pregnant again and sobs when they say it's a girl

carries his girls with him everywhere he goes

is proud that he's raising strong women who will learn how to fight for themselves. keeps reminding himself that he's raising the next generation and that fuels a fire deep inside him

let's the girls play with his hair and put all the clips they can find around the house on his head

lets his fingers and toes be horribly painted while he reads the newspaper and leaves the house with those nails

gets teary eyed on the first day of school and waits outside the school the whole day for a week (paid time off used)

can only do simple pony tails and braids but loves waking the girls up, sitting them on his lap and doing their hair while you get them dressed

making cute lunches for the girls with you is one of his favorite parts of the day

likes dressing the girls alike or the same and has a strange obsession with buying them overalls

loves playing barbie with them and lowkey has a favorite barbie

goes toy shopping behind mommy's back and tells the girls that this is the only secret that they can ever ever keep

randomly brings back flowers for every single one of his girls

takes his girls (you and daughters) on group and individual dates

makes the girls sign a contract written in crayon stating they "will love daddy forever"... frames it and puts it in his office

cries tears of joy AGAIN when you're pregnant with another girl... and looks for a bigger house

rips off door side where he was marking the girl's height and puts it in the new house. he did not believe in marking/tracing it on another thin piece of wood and said he wanted the original

takes everyone out for dessert every Friday and checks in on each kid to see how they're feeling and if they're ok

never misses a single game, recital, rehearsal, practice, ANYTHING

takes his daughters to their first self-defense class

does not believe in violence and does not condone it... but will first ask the girls if they won the fight (strongly insinuates that he will be disappointed if someone kicks their ass)

corrects the girls when needed and has a special look to tell them to stop messing around

later goes to apologize if he ever uses the look

will ask the girls for a sleepover and will throw every blanket on the floor to make one huge bed

tells the girls to follow him as he does repairs around the house or on the car bc they "need to know how it all works and how to deal with it"

is shocked when you're pregnant again (even though he likes to do a certain something that leads to babies) but is REALLY SHOCKED when it's a boy this time

reminds the girls that they have to be nice and helpful with their brother

starts all the reading and bookmarking all over again, but his time on how to raise a gentleman

raises the best little dude and let's the girls show him everything he has shown them so far

okaaaay okay i know i said he's a girl dad and a girl dad only buuuuut Nanami would raise the best little gentleman ever. AND IMAGINE A MINI NANAMI?!! ... but he's still a girl dad first and foremost

extras:

would absolutely praise his wife and randomly thank her for giving him a family

will wear a disguise and follow daughters to first date

refuses to parentify any of his kids and wants to let them be kids

constantly reminds them that they only get to be kids for a short amount of time then they have to be adults for the rest of their lives. so be silly

is always down for a quiet drive if anyone needs to clear their head

dreads the day when he will no longer he able to carry his kids on his shoulders

has already made mental plans for every possible situation the kids may create, even the absolutely crazy ones his brain has imagined

is very open w the girls and talks about safety in intimacy

leaves cute notes during bad or iffy days and writes motivational quotes on their mirrors with dry-erase markers

loves when you say he's a dilf

tries to talk to them about the stock market

passes his budgeting king crown to the kids

feels super cool when his kids brag to their friends about him, even puffs his chest a little bit

[megalony]

Fright Night

This is my Halloween Evan Buckley imagine, which I have written as part of the Call Me Dad series.

It's been a while since I wrote this series, but I want this to stand as the next part in the series rather than a spin-off.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Call Me Dad masterlist

Summary: Evan isn't too happy that he has to work Halloween and can't take the kids out. But his day goes from bad to worse when the team are called to an incident, and his family are involved.

(Season 8 spoilers)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you working it this year?" The apprehension in (Y/n)'s voice was paramount and when she looked over her shoulder at her husband, she watched his expression change.

Evan's lips rolled together and the deep breath he took told (Y/n) he didn't really want to give her the answer to that question.

She nodded to his wordless response and turned to get something from the fridge. She had a feeling Evan would be working, he usually was. Holidays and bank holidays were busy nights for the emergency services and that meant not many people could have the shift off. First come, first serve and even then, not everyone got lucky. Sometimes no one was allowed off, it just depended on the situation at the time.

"Baby, I'm sorry-"

"It doesn't matter, I was only asking." (Y/n) shrugged and shook her head while her back was still to him. It was easier to brush things off and try to carry on if she didn't have to look at Evan's saddened expression. The sympathy in his eyes always broke her down and made her relent.

(Y/n) knew it wasn't Evan's fault. He worked Christmas last year because they had been short-staffed and so Eddie could be home with Chris. He worked New Year because that was always a date he put his name down for as they didn't really celebrate it. And he had even had to work (Y/n)'s birthday this year because he couldn't find anyone to swap the shift with him.

She didn't mind. As long as he could try and get the kid's birthdays off, (Y/n) would take everything in her stride. She had begged him to try and ask for Christmas off this year and ask early because it wasn't fair on the kids if he had to work again and they wouldn't see him all day.

But this was the same. This was Halloween, when the kids loved to dress up and go out and Evan always dressed up with them. They all loved this holiday but now it meant Evan wouldn't be able to help the kids get dressed or see them go out trick or treating.

"Baby please…"

When Evan's hand found her arm, (Y/n) shut the fridge and turned round so she was facing him. She let him nudge her back until her hips were pressed into the counter and he was blocking her in with no escape.

Both his hands found her hips and his head tilted to one side, showing off all the sorrow and sympathy hidden within those blue eyes. He leaned closer until their temples were touching and (Y/n) folded her arms over her chest, resting them on her bump.

"I asked, but Hen's already got it off to be with Mara and we're gonna be busy." Evan knew it wasn't an excuse and he wasn't trying to put any blame on anyone else.

He was a little upset that Hen got to have the day off. He understood it was Mara's first Halloween with them, but it wasn't like she was the only one with kids. Eddie had Chris, and he was having to work. Evan had three kids and now he was having to work too.

He just hoped Hen hadn't already asked for Christmas this year with the same reasoning that it would be Mara's first Christmas with them. Evan wasn't missing out on another Christmas with his kids, especially not when (Y/n) would be eight months pregnant by Christmas. He wasn't working and leaving her to do everything and look after the kids on her own.

"Evan, I get it. I just- Maddie's working too, I've gotta take the kids by myself. But I'll make it work."

Maddie was involved with the kids, they were closer to her than to their grandparents and whenever she was off she would take them out. And on holidays like this she would try and help look after them. But Maddie was working Halloween at dispatch this year.

It meant (Y/n) was going to be trailing the streets with all three kids while also supposed to be taking things easy after the placental abruption. And she wouldn't complain. She wasn't going to tell the kids they couldn't go out because that wasn't fair, she had simply hoped Evan might be off to come with them this year.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry baby, really I am."

When Evan pressed his lips to the side of her temple, (Y/n) could feel her resolve fading away. Her arms uncrossed and her hands moved to grip his shoulders while she tilted her head forward into his chest.

"I wanted to be home with you, you're not meant to be doing too much." His lips stayed meshed against her temple while his hands squeezed her hips and moved round to cup her stomach.

Evan felt bad. He felt like he was always leaving (Y/n) to do everything on her own and he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to be working and be away from the kids during the celebrations like this and miss seeing them dressing up and going out. And he didn't want to be away from (Y/n) when she hadn't been well and might need him.

"We're doing a scare maze at the station this year, I'll bring the kids down to see it and they can get some sweets and pictures. Then at least I can tell them they can't go out for long trick or treating."

The team were excited to be able to dress up the station and do some scary events for the community. Evan could bring the kids down before the public came to see, that way they could look around and Josie and Cole wouldn't get too frightened. And they could get some sweets and look around, and they wouldn't be too annoyed if Evan told them they were only allowed to go out for an hour trick or treating. So it wasn't too much for (Y/n).

"Thank you."

"Oh, and who do we have here?" Bobby folded his arms over his chest and stepped away from the scare maze the team had constructed in just a few hours. He moved the cape that was hanging over his arms so it flapped behind his shoulders and smiled as he watched Evan walk into the station.

He had helped set the maze up earlier and then went to get the kids so he could bring them down for a while.

"You must be the Devil," He crouched down so he was in front of Josie, admiring the costume she had on which looked very cute.

She had a red top on, a sparkly black tutu, black and red striped tights and a tail attached to her tutu. And in her hand she had a small plastic red pitch fork. Her hair was tied up in a pony tail and she had some red horns stuck onto the headband she was wearing. The outfit looked very sweet yet cunning at the same time and the cheeky frin on her face made it all match perfectly.

Josie nodded enthusiastically before she looked Bobby up and down. "Dracula?" She murmured to which he nodded and let her rush over to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him.

"And who's this?"

"He's a ghost." Josie stayed tucked into Bobby's arm but she turned to face her little brother who was glued into Evan's side.

Cole had white face paint on with black circles painted around his eyes and he had an old white sheet draped over his white pyjamas with a circle cut out in the middle so his face could pop through. It was plain and simple but when he flapped his arms at his sides beneath the sheet, he looked the part.

The team had gotten to know Evan's kids, especially Chimney and Eddie since the kids now called Chimney their uncle and they thought of Eddie and Chris as family too. They all knew Cole barely spoke and he would cling to his parents for security and safety.

The four year old stayed quiet but he managed a bright smile when Evan held his hand and let him lean into his leg.

Bobby pushed up to his feet but let Josie take his hand and stick to his side and he grinned at Evan while he looked for the eldest Buckley child.

James was a few paces behind, taking in the surroundings and how different the station looked. It was like they had walked into an escape room rather than a fire house. He loved it. He tilted his head back to look up at the decorations hanging from the beams above them.

But when his foot caught on the table beside him, he stumbled and felt his dad quickly reaching out to grab his upper arm.

"Glasses on." Evan muttered with half a smile pulling at his lips as James stood at his side with a huff and his eyes cast on the floor.

"What kind of mummy wears glasses?"

"The kind who can't see without them." Evan retorted with a knowing look. James had decided he wanted to be a mummy this year, but Evan knew it was because his ribs were still broken and he was feeling down about it.

He had bandages bound around his chest to bind his ribs and help keep them in place and feel a bit better. So James decided he may as well go with the theme and be an Egyptian mummy. (Y/n) had helped him fray and dye some old bandage rolls from the station and cover them with dust and little bits of sand to make the outfit work.

"Do you wanna be the first ones to test out the maze?" Bobby pointed behind him to the start of the maze which had three main sections, and then at the end there would be a bowl of sweets for them to dip into.

"Can we?" James looked from Bobby up to his dad who smiled and nudged him forwards.

"Go ahead, but don't take all the sweets at the end please."

Evan watched James take Josie's hand and let her drag him towards the beginning of the maze and he couldn't help the small chuckle that left his lips. It was going to be Josie dragging James around the maze, and if the eldest didn't put his glasses on, he wouldn't really be scared because he wouldn't know what he was looking at.

"He won't see without his glasses, so he won't be frightened." He muttered softly as he looked over at Bobby. He watched his captain curiously as Bobby looked him up and down and took in his appearance.

"Didn't you have a 'stache?"

Evan's face broke out into a grin when he watched Bobby point to his upper lip. Evan had dressed as a cowboy, simple jeans and plaid shirt and a cowboy hat to finish the look. But Bobby distinctly remembered Evan had on a fake, bushy moustache earlier before he went to get the kids.

"Someone ripped it off." His eyes darted down to Cole who was none the wiser, stood drifting in his own little world for the time being.

Evan had indeed worn the fake moustache earlier, and James had found it highly amusing, as did Josie. But as soon as he picked Cole up and gave him a kiss, the four year old tore it from his face and chucked it on the floor. He didn't like it. He wasn't used to seeing his dad with any sort of facial hair and it had disgruntled him.

"Do you want to take a look with me?" Evan wasn't so sure Cole would want to go in, he was scared easily. But if he knew no one else but his siblings were in there and he went in with his dad, he might like to look around. He was very sensory and always loved looking at decorations for Halloween and Christmas.

Cole nodded but instead of walking towards the entrance, he twisted to look up at Evan and held his arms out expectingly.

He didn't like walking, he always wanted to be carried no matter where they were or where they were going. Evan suspected it was a sensory and comfort thing, his boy felt safe when he was being carried around.

Leaning down, Evan scooped Cole up into his arms and settled his little ghost on his hip. He kissed his temple and walked ahead to the maze where Bobby moved the curtain so they could walk inside. The beginning was fairly simple. Black and purple drapes everywhere and some glow in the dark footprints on the floor along with a few traces of fake blood splattered about.

When they walked into the next room, there was a table set up with fake equipment like needles, scalpels, scissors and a fake, broken bone saw. Everything was layered in fake blood and illuminescent paint to make it glow in the dim lighting.

And stood there in the corner was Hen with a wig that was sparking off in all directions, a lab coat lathered in paint and blood and a needle in her hand. Her make up was great, curtesy of Karen who had done Eddie's make up too.

"Are you my next patient?" The tone of Hen's voice was softer than it had been when James and Josie walked in. She knew she could play a game and scare them, but she didn't want to frighten Cole.

"No!"

Cole twisted his head so his chin was perched on Evan's shoulder and he was looking over his dad's back, facing away from Hen. His legs started to swing into Evan's chest and he fidgeted in his arms, binding both arms around his dad's neck to cling to him tighter. He wasn't impressed.

"Okay, next one." Evan soothed and rubbed his hand up and down Cole's back as he walked into the next room.

Evan felt his youngest start to quake in his arms when he heard the music and saw how dark this room was. Maybe Cole wasn't the best to show round here, Evan thought he might be alright because no one else was looking round here to egg him on or frighten him even more.

The four year old twisted his head to look around, but he jerked in Evan's hold when Eddie popped out from behind a back drop.

Before Eddie had chance to growl or make a noise, a low whine left Cole's lips and he began to cry. His face tucked into Evan's neck and he stuffed his hand into his mouth, morphing the sound of his cries while Eddie quickly tore the wig from his head.

"It's only me, buddy."

"And I think we're done with the maze. It's okay, let's grab some sweets." Evan cupped the side of Cole's head and kissed his temple while he pushed through the curtain on his right to exit the maze. He didn't want to take Cole into the last two rooms and have Chimney frighten him to his core. Getting out now was the best idea for him.

He weaved around the back of the tents that made up the maze until he found James and Josie running out of the last room, laughing and panting.

Evan tried to let go of Coles face so he could reach into the large dish holding all of the sweets ranging from chocolates to gooey string. But Cole gripped his wrist and held his hand in place against his face. Clearly the comfort was making him feel better.

"All over," Evan murmured against his temple and bounced him on his hip before he looked over at his other two kids who were rummaging around for their favourite sweets. "Was it good?"

"The best."

"Can we go round again in a bit?"

"Sure-"

"No!" Cole's head shook against Evan's neck until he felt his dad chuckling and quietly shushing him.

"Not you, you're staying with me buddy, I need someone to guard the sweets."

If the kids wanted to stay for a while and go through the maze again when some of the public came in, that was fine. Evan was supposed to be stationed here at the sweet table at the end of the maze so Cole could stay with him until it was time to go home.

"Just remember you're staying here with me for a while which means you only go out with mum for a little while tomorrow, because I'm working. Mum's gotta be careful."

Evan was glad Bobby had said the kids could stay for as long as they liked. The Captain knew they were all well behaved and would most likely help out too which was always a bonus. The station wasn't taking any calls today so the community could come in and out as much as they liked so the kids could play and have some lunch here. And it meant Evan got to be with the kids for a little bit of Halloween, even if the festivities were technically tomorrow.

He was getting to see them dressed up today so he didn't miss out while he was working tomorrow. And it meant the kids got to have some fun and (Y/n) didn't get stressed or do too much with them tomorrow. Now she was having twins and hadn't been well, she had to take it easy.

***

Evan rolled his neck from side to side, clicking it into place as he jumped down from the truck and moved to stand beside Bobby.

This didn't look good.

They hadn't been told what scene they were arriving to, dispatch only said that someone had been on the phone and then got into a traffic accident. This looked more than a little accident; it looked horrific.

Crowds were already trying to gather round and see what was going on, but nobody dared to get too close.

There were tyre tracks on the road, great black streaks on the concrete leading up to a beaten up silver Ford. It had veered off the road, plowed straight over someone's lawn, smashed up their front steps and was now imbedded into the wall of their house, resting on their porch. The frame of the porch was starting to creak already and Evan gave it five minutes before it started to sway and the house foundations began to give in.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Bobby's hand moved out towards the two teenage girls shakily hurrying over to them. Both girls looked relatively fine if they had been involved in this accident, no cuts bruises or broken bones. They were just shaken up.

"He- he drove after us, he hit o-our car and skidded. He hit a boy." One of the girls pointed towards the porch as Bobby's lips faltered.

There was a victim up there other than the driver?

"Okay, Eddie, Buck start working on a structure to keep that porch from collapsing. Chim, Hen we need to check these victims."

Evan nodded and took a step to the side, there was a lot of wood from the picket fence and the destroyed front porch that they could use to keep the structure from collapsing. They would have to prop it up so they could winch the car out and get to whoever was trapped.

"Why don't…" Whatever Evan was about to say faded on the tip of his tongue when he looked ahead of him.

He recognised one of those voices mixed into the growing crowd around them. He knew that high-pitch cry.

"Daddy!" A loud wail followed Cole's voice and his arms flung out in front of him as he bolted from the pavement across the vacant road towards his dad/ He spotted him straight away. Cole could always spot his dad in a crowd and right now, he needed him more than anything else.

"Cole?" An icicle of dread pierced into Evan's heart and he moved away from the truck, opening his arms to scoop up his son as soon as he was close enough. He picked him up and cradled him into his chest, cupping the side of Cole's face so he could check him over.

Evan's eyes were wide and frantic as he noticed Cole's minimal face paint was smudged. Tear tracks were smeared down his cheeks leaving runny black trails from the make up around his eyes that was fading from all the tears. And his little boy was shaking in his shoes like he had been electrified.

"Daddy's here!" Josie's croaky voice caught Evan's ear and he shifted Cole into his left arm so he could hold his hand out when his daughter hurried over to him.

What were they doing here? Had they witnessed the crash? Where was (Y/n) and James?

"Where's your mum?" The urgency in Evan's voice was unlike anything the kids had ever heard. But Evan tripped over his feet when Josie tugged on his hand and pointed to the porch.

"No… no, no no!"

Words tumbled past Evan's lips, but he could barely hear them. He didn't hear himself telling Josie and Cole to sit and stay exactly where they were. He couldn't feel Cole's nails scratching into the back of his neck or his wails as he screeched for Evan to keep hold of him, but he couldn't.

Once Evan noticed Bobby moving towards the kids, presumably to keep them calm and still, Evan stumbled up the steps.

This couldn't be happening. No. Why? Why now, when Evan was on shift, when he hadn't been here with them? Why his family? Why not somebody else?

His boots pounded against the broken steps that squeaked as if they were going to give way beneath his weight. But when he got onto the porch, he found Chimney stood in front of him. His hands found Evan's chest and he gave him a little nudge, silently telling him to take a step back but the motion only infuriated Evan.

He leaned around Chimney, feeling his heart impale itself on his ribs when he looked at the bonnet of the car.

There was the rest of his family.

James was the boy who'd been hit. Wedged between the car bonnet and the wall of the house, right next to the front door. And beside him, leaning heavily on the car to be as close as possible, was (Y/n).

"Buck-" Chimney closed his eyes and ground his jaw when he was violently pushed aside. He regained his balance just before he toppled onto Bobby who was trying to keep the kids away from the scene, not wanting them to be traumatised any longer.

"Baby- baby, i-it's me! I'm here, what happened?" Breathless gasps left Evan's lips as he blundered over to be behind (Y/n).

His hands found her arms and he leaned over her back, feeling the quiet scream she let out. She had been zoned out, focusing on James and Evan had accidentally frightened her. But when (Y/n) looked over her shoulder, tears streamed down her face and she reached her free hand up to grip his hand that was on her upper arm.

"Evan," The way she said his name had his heart breaking all over again and he felt tears welling up in his eyes when (Y/n) briefly pressed her forehead down into his arm. "He p- he pushed Cole out the way. I couldn't-"

(Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and rolled her lips together when Evan kissed the top of her head.

She hadn't been able to do anything.

They had been walking on the path, about to get ready to call it a night when it happened. Two cars, like they were playing chicken. One hit the back of another and veered onto the path. (Y/n) couldn't move before James had shoved Cole across the path so he was out the way of the oncoming car. All (Y/n) could do was scream.

The boys had been in front of her. James had been walking with Cole attached to his side while Josie walked slower so she could be beside (Y/n). Just a few more paces and it would of been (Y/n) and Josie who got hit instead of James.

"Dad?" The hope in James's voice made Evan choke and he carefully nudged (Y/n) a few paces to the side so he could take her place. The action caused her to let go of James's hand and (Y/n) felt herself beginning to tremble when she let him go.

She pressed up behind Evan to stay as close as possible while he leaned his hips on the bonnet and reached out for his boy.

James looked like he was a rubber toy that was being stretched. The bonnet was pressing deeply into his abdomen and lower chest and the tyre was crushed into his leg. For a moment, Evan seemed to look at him funny as if something was out of place, but then he realised what it was. He wasn't wearing his glasses; either they had fallen off or (Y/n) had taken them off him to try and help him.

Tears were streaming down his face and his arms were both laid on the bonnet around the picket fence that was crushed between him and the car. He had his head leant on his arm, but as soon as he realised his dad was here, his head perked up. He had been screaming for Evan since someone said they called the emergency services.

He wanted his dad.

"I'm here! I've got you buddy." When James latched both hands around Evan's bicep, Evan leaned over him and cradled the back of his neck. He pressed a dozen kisses to the top of his head and took a few seconds to try and even out his breathing.

He had to stay in control. He had to figure out what to do and get their son out of this situation.

His fingers curled at the back of James's head, fisting around his curly hair that matched Evan's. He could feel how badly his boy was shaking and it was as if the pain was radiating through into Evan and all he wanted to do was make it stop. He wanted to find a way to rewind time and slot himself into this scene so he could stop it from happening.

"Hurts." The little whimper James let out made Evan croak. He finally reeled back just enough so that he can look down at his boy without tearing himself away from James. Allowing his boy to keep a tight grip on his bicep.

"It's alright, I'll get you something for that. Where's the morphine?" Evan looked over his shoulder with furrowed brows and a stern expression not to be messed with. He had to have some help here.

He could see Bobby was giving out orders while still staying close by Josie and Cole, for safety. Eddie was working with a few others to make something to keep the structure sturdy so they could move the car. And Chimney was weaving around to the other side of the car so he could try and help.

When Evan looked around, he watched Hen hurry up to him with a medic bag in her hand which made him relieved. There would be some morphine in that bag; something that until a few weeks ago James had never had to have until he broke his ribs. Evan didn't want to think what was going to be wrong with his son after this.

"Buck, why don't you let me-"

"He's not your kid!"

The seething tone in Evan's voice made Hen roll her lips into a thin line and she nodded. She didn't think it was the best idea that Evan be the one to help right now. This was his son. He was getting emotional and that wasn't the best thing to happen in this situation; but none of them were going to be able to tear him away from his boy.

"Dad d-don't go." James scratched his short nails into his dad's arm and gave a sharp tug on his arm. He had been crying out for his dad since the accident occurred, he didn't want Evan to step away from him now.

"I'm not leaving you, not for a second. Okay? I'm right here with you, baby." He kissed James's temple before he held his hand out and took the packaged needle Hen passed into his hand.

He scratched the needle into the back of James's hand and squeezed until all the morphine was in his system. They all knew it would take a few minutes to work, but once it did, the discomfort would fade away.

Evan took a look around before he shuffled over and carefully sat down on the car bonnet. He had to be close and standing at an angle like this wasn't exactly helping. He leaned in close so he could see how much the car was pushing down on James and whereabouts. And from the look of his leg, James had a new broken bone to deal with.

"Is Cole o-okay? I- I tried to get him out- out the way." James sniffed and tilted his head back to look up at his dad.

He wanted to straighten up, but standing straight hurt his chest and he felt better if he just slumped forward like this. And now that his dad was sat on the bonnet, James flopped his chin on his dad's leg and gripped his leg to try and distract himself.

"He's fine, and I'm so proud of you." He kissed the back of James's head as more tears flushed his face.

Things wouldn't have worked out the same if Cole had been hit too. He was four, he was small and he wasn't as strong. If the car hit him it would of killed him. James had saved him.

Looking over his shoulder, Evan waved towards Hen and Bobby who were hanging back to try and help get the structure sorted.

"How long? I need this car off him now!"

"We're on it, Buck. Keep him calm for a few more minutes." Bobby didn't dare say they needed up to ten minutes to do this. He couldn't say that and watch Evan's face fall and he couldn't let James hear that and have him panicking too.

When (Y/n) heard James mutter a broken "Where's mum?" she tried to move back to his side but a pair of hands held her arms and pulled her back. Her head whipped over her shoulder and she writhed around when she realised it was Eddie holding onto her.

He shook his head and tried to pull her back into him. (Y/n) wouldn't be able to do very much, none of them could do a lot until the car was moved. And Eddie knew (Y/n) panicking was only going to make her state worse. She needed to calm down and stay put for now.

"She's here, look uncle Chim's gonna help us too."

"Alright kid, let's get this on you." Leaning over the bonnet, Chimney carefully placed two stickers beneath James's shirt against his chest to monitor his heartbeat. "Let's straighten you up so I can take a look."

James gripped Evan's arms while his dad held his elbows and helped him lean back so he was standing up properly rather than being slumped over. He tilted his head back, trying to hold back the tears but it wasn't happening. He squeezed Evan's arms tight and tried to take deep breaths while Chimney pressed on his chest and tried to feel his abdomen for any tender spots or internal bleeding.

"I'm scared." There was no shame in James's voice; he wasn't embarrassed to say he was frightened because he was. He was in agony, he was trapped. He felt like he was being flattened and at any moment he was sure his insides were going to burst and pop.

His voice made (Y/n) tremble and her hands moved to cover her mouth so she wouldn't burst into tears. Her eyes were constantly moving to the left to check on the kids and she could see them both huddled together on the steps with Hen stood beside them so Bobby could help drill the wood for the structure. They were shell-shocked, but they were okay for now.

All she wanted to do was go up there and hold James. She wanted to wrap her arms around him like she had tried to do earlier and get that car away from him so they could move him. He needed to go to hospital.

Sobs wracked past her lips and she tried again to move away from Eddie but he wasn't letting go. He couldn't let her distress herself any more than this.

"You don't need to be scared, you've got all of us here to look after you. The best team, hm?"

James nodded and tried to keep his eyes open, but he could feel his head turning dizzy and the agony burning throughout his chest was making it hard to focus.

"Dad?"

"What, baby?"

Evan didn't receive a proper answer, but he watched silently as James tugged on his arms and moved his hands towards his chest.

"Is it your ribs, do they hurt?" Evan wouldn't be surprised if James had fractured or damaged his already broken ribs that were on the verge of healing now three weeks after the accident.

But both he and Chimney froze when James's head flopped forward and he started to cough. His forehead bashed into Evan's thigh and he began to wheeze through coughs like he had suddenly inhaled smoke that was irritating his lungs.

"James?"

"Hey, baby sit up for me, please?" Desperation drowned Evan's voice as he and Chimney tried to reel James up again but he wasn't having it. He didn't have the energy and he felt better laying forward like this.

But when Evan rolled James's upper half onto his side so he could look at him, everything within him started to burn in flames and a horrible trembling set in Evan's body.

James was coughing up blood.

His eyes were rolling about in his head like marbles, unable to focus on anything and his chest was convulsing as large splurts of blood dribbled down his chin and splattered onto Evan's lap.

"Hen we need suction." Chimney pressed one knee onto the bonnet so he could lean over now that James's back was twisted towards him. He tilted James's head forwards and tried to listen to his breathing, but his lungs sounded like they were drowning. He was going to suffocate in his own blood if they didn't remove it quick enough.

"(Y/n)- (Y/n) no- Cap we need that car on a winch now!" Eddie braced himself and tilted his head back, holding (Y/n) with his arms beneath hers and his hands on her shoulders to hold her back. She was dithering between trying to lean forward and pushing down like she was going to collapse. The only sure thing was Eddie stood behind her, holding her up.

A horrible, broken scream left (Y/n)'s lips and when she tried to wrangle out of Eddie's grip again, she ended up going down on her knees when her legs buckled. Her head flopped forward, allowing the tears to cascade down her face as she gasped for breath like she was drowning too.

She wanted to hold his hand. She wanted to stand with him and try to help. She needed to be closer, but they weren't letting her.

One hand reached up to grip Eddie's hand that was on her shoulder and she squeezed tight, glad he didn't say anything and simply held her tighter for support. But her other hand moved down to the side of her stomach when it felt like her muscles were tightening and twinging.

"Alright, here we go buddy." Chimney switched on the machine when Hen handed it over and carefully wiggled the plastic tube into James's mouth and down his throat.

The amount of blood filling the suction tube was unnerving, but the coughing, gasping noises James made was worse. And the sight of his chest convulsing against Evan's knees was making tears pour down his dad's face.

"He's losing a lot of blood, Cap we need a transfusion."

"It would take more than ten minutes to get a blood bag down here." They didn't carry blood bags on them, that was too dangerous and it wasn't their department's job. Getting a donation from the hospital was going to take too long, even if they had the blue lights on to get here faster.

A strangled sound passed (Y/n)'s lips as she twisted to look up at Eddie. She tried to ignore the tightening in her stomach while she pulled on his hand.

"What, are you okay?"

"He's- I'm A-negative too. Can't you d-do something?" (Y/n) waved her wrist in front of Eddie to try and make her point because she couldn't find the words she needed.

Evan was a different blood group to (Y/n), but she knew she was the same as James. Her and Evan went to the hospital every other month to give blood donations. She was the same type as James, couldn't they take her blood and somehow get it into James here? Did they have the equipment for that?

A light seemed to go off in Eddie's mind and he nodded and pushed up from his knees, carefully helping (Y/n) up with him as he finally guided her over towards her boy rather than holding her at bay.

"Eddie no-" Evan tried to motion his hand towards his wife, signalling that he didn't want her this close. (Y/n) had already gone into shock and was panicking, Evan couldn't have her getting any worse witnessing this.

"She's his blood type, we can get a fusion going or he's gonna drown in his blood and lose it at the same time."

If they let James continue like this, he was going to bleed out into his lungs and it would be a debate whether the blood loss would kill him or if he would suffocate first. He needed a transfusion to get blood to the rest of his body, not just in his lungs.

Evan looked sceptical, he didn't look like he would agree but they didn't have a choice and (Y/n) was already leaning over his lap and rolling up her sleeve. She wouldn't give him a choice. She was doing this whether Evan was happy about it or not.

"You know that's risky." Hen fumbled in her medic bag to find what they needed, but her voice gave away how uncertain she was about this. It wasn't something they practised or did every day.

"He needs me." (Y/n) moved her hand towards Eddie because she knew that even if Evan, Hen and Chimney were uncertain, Eddie was willing. It was risky but they couldn't let James deteriorate or get any worse.

"Fuck it." Chimney grabbed the needles from Hen and handed one over to Eddie before he held James's hand.

It was hard to lean over James and get the needle into his elbow from this angle but he managed it and held the tube out ready for Eddie to use.

(Y/n) leaned her hip against Evan and laid her head on his shoulder but her eyes wouldn't divert away from their boy. He was still shaking and choking and his eyes had rolled to the back of his head. He had passed out and they could all hear his heartbeat lowering with every second that ticked by.

The small scratch in the back of her hand was nothing compared to the ache in her heart and the twisting, stretching feeling in her abdomen where the twins were kicking up a fuss.

Evan pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head while he started to run his fingers through James's hair, something that always soothed and calmed down their boy since he was a baby. He watched intently as Eddie connected the tubes to a large syringe and slowly started to fill the syringe with (Y/n)'s blood.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

Eddie carefully pushed down on the syringe until it was halfway down and the blood started to travel through the next tube and into James's elbow.

(Y/n) could feel herself going lightheaded and she leaned into Evan a little more to keep herself steady. But the sound of the heart rate monitor picking up made her sigh and press her lips into Evan's shoulder.

It was working.

"Alright Buck get off the car, we're gonna move it now!" Bobby's voice was the ray of light they needed.

Chimney handed the suction back to Hen now that James's lungs were mostly clear for the time being. And Eddie carefully reeled (Y/n) back a few feet with him, making sure she wasn't too far away so the needle didn't come out her hand. While Chimney held James's shoulders, Evan held his head up and they both kept him in place while Bobby and Hen got the wooden beams in place on the porch so it wouldn't collapse on them.

The structure shuddered and groaned once the car slowly started to be pulled away.

A horrible scream tore past James's lips and his head flopped forward against Evan's hand as a dribble of blood spat past his lips. His knees wavered, but not for long. Evan crouched in front of him and caught him expertly while everyone moved around them.

The fencing and broken beams were moved out the way so Evan could pick up his boy and carry him down to the gurney at the bottom of the stairs. With (Y/n) and Eddie close behind.

"He should have enough now." Eddie's voice was careful and delicate as he removed the needle from (Y/n)'s hand and put a plaster in its place.

"You both go with him, we'll take the kids with us and meet you there." Bobby waved his hand towards the ambulance. It would be better for both parents to travel with James and the rest of them would follow on behind in the truck and they would take Cole and Josie with them.

(Y/n) looked to the side but Cole was already in Chimney's arms, sobbing into his chest while Chimney tried to calm him down. And Josie was attached to his leg, unsure what was happening or where they were going now. But both kids knew he was their uncle and they should wait with him if they couldn't follow with their parents.

She tried to nod and push ahead, following after Evan who was steering the gurney with Hen. But her legs were shaking like they were about to give way on her and she felt like she was about to faint.

The feeling of Eddie's hand on her back was comforting as he helped guide her towards the ambulance. But (Y/n) didn't have the strength to get inside. Her hand clung to the ambulance door and she hunched forward, closing her eyes when another twinge broke out in her abdomen.

"Baby, what's the matter?" Once the stretcher was locked in place, Evan moved to the end of the ambulance, both hands pressed into either door as he leaned forward. Trying to decipher why his wife had stooped over rather than attempted to get inside with him.

"I- I think…" She couldn't find the words, but another pain hit her with such a powerful force that she had no choice but to bend her knees and brace her hand on the floor of the ambulance.

A cry burst past her lips and Evan jerked back when she curled her other hand into a fist and rammed it into the door so powerfully that the whole ambulance shook.

They all heard her mutter "Contraction." in a feeble whimper and Evan's jaw ground tight as he looked at Eddie.

This was exactly what he and (Y/n) and been trying to avoid. She was on light duties at home and Evan had been tempted to tell her to go on bed rest to make sure nothing happened to her and the twins. The stress of tonight and trauma of seeing James get hurt was pushing her into labour.

"We'll get you to a doctor too then."

Leaning down, Evan held onto (Y/n)'s elbows and pulled her up while Eddie stayed behind her to make sure she got up and didn't trip. Evan eased her down into one of the seats and sat next to her, but he didn't like the look in her eyes. She creased forward so her bump was pressed into her thighs and her hands reached out to take James's hand.

Evan leaned over and looped his left arm around (Y/n)'s waist, easing her into him until her head was meshed into his chest and his lips attached to the top of her head. While his other hand held onto James's shoulder like their son was their lifeline.

He knew. Evan just knew that (Y/n) was going to ignore the contractions as much as she could. She wasn't going to listen to her body and he had a feeling he was going to have a fight on his hands to get her to sit with a doctor.

(Y/n) didn't want this to happen. She didn't need this right now. James needed her and Evan, they couldn't leave him or stop worrying about him to focus on (Y/n)'s feeble body that was overreacting and trying to hurt their other two babies.

All their attention had to go to James. He needed them.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 20: Jason Todd x Male!reader - Killing time

It was 4am and after a long night of patrolling Gotham you and Jason arrived back at your apartment building ready for some well deserved sleep though the universe had other plans as it decided to stop the elevator on the way up to your floor.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Jason grunts, pushing buttons as if it was going to do anything.

You wait a moment hoping it would turn on again but unfortunately it did not.

Jason attempts to pull the doors open but they are locked shut so you press the emergency call button.

You get through to someone but they tell you as it's so early in the morning they most likely won't be able to get help out to you for a few hours.

“Thanks for the fucking help asshole!” Jason shouts at the person in frustration.

Jason paces around the elevator, attempting to pull the doors open again to no prevail, Jason punching the door in response.

“Jay calm down that isn't gonna get us out of here any quicker,” you tell him.

“I just wanted to go to bed,” he sighs.

“Help will be here soon we just need to find something to kill time,” you say.

Jason thinks for a second and very casually replies, “you wanna have sex?”

“Are you serious?” You ask raising an eyebrow.

“Got anything better to do?” He shrugs.

You chuckle and shake your head, Jason stepping closer to you and kissing you.

He presses you up against the side of the elevator, the handrail digging into your back.

You make out for a while, Jason's thigh slotted in between your legs giving you friction as you grind down into it.

He snakes his down your pants, grabbing your growing erection.

“Fuck,” you moan as he toys with you the best he can within the restriction of your pants.

He retracts his hand and turns you around, quickly tugging your pants down around your ankles and he gets down to eat your ass.

“Jason,” you cry out, his tongue expertly working your hole.

He frees his own cock, stroking himself as he continued to prep your hole for him.

A few minutes later Jason gets back to his feet, slapping his cock against your ass to tease you.

“Ready for me?” He taunts.

“Fuck yes,” you groan and he roughly pushes his cock inside you bottoming out completely causing you to yelp.

He pulls out and repeats the action, your knees nearly giving out on you so you hold onto the handrail for dear life as he starts hastily thrusting into you.

Your cheek is pressed against the cold metal side of the elevator, your heavy breaths fogging it.

Jason has always been obsessed with your ass, he intently watches the way it jiggles while he fucks you, occasionally giving you a nice hard slap.

“Does that feel good babe?” He asks you cockily.

“So good, so fucking good Jay,” you groan.

You don't know how long it's been since you became stuck in the elevator but the way Jason was pounding into you you could stay in here forever.

“God I love fucking your ass,” he grunts, giving you another slap.

“You gonna cum in me?” You smile, looking back at him over your shoulder while you reach down and begin jerking yourself off.

“Of fucking course I am,” he says moving his hips even faster and soon he is moaning when he cums deep inside you.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out feeling him fill you up with cum.

Jason is determined to make you cum before he gets soft so he continues to thrust his hips until he hears you moaning as you spray the side of the elevator with cum.

Before you can even collect yourselves the doors to the elevators open but it's not any repairmen, it's Dick.

“What the hell are you doing here Grayson,” Jason huffs, pulling out of you and stuffing his cock back in his pants while you quickly pull yours back up.

“Babs got an sos from Y/N,” he says staring up at the ceiling trying not to look at you guys getting redressed.

You look down at your watch and see at some point you accidently sent an emergency alert to Barbara at the clock tower, “oops.”

“Well at least you guys found a way to keep yourselves busy,” Dick chuckles.

[lizzyiii]

Our boy Aemond is he gonna turn for our baby Mikaelson? ❤️✨

girrlllll chileeee, you're getting too ahead of the story😝

His Lady Love (11)

pairing | aemond x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC word count | 5.5k words summary | you finally reveal the truth of your existence to Aemond and Helaena, sharing the painful memories of your immortal life as the youngest mikaelson sibling and original vampire. Through tears and anguish, you expose your family's curse—eternal life without hope—and the deep scars it has left on your soul, as you recount memories of betrayal, loss, and survival.. tags | ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST. klaus mikaelson??? violent death, blood and gore, lowkey mental and emotional abuse, subtle depression. note | actually kind of love this chapter, I just love writing klaus in general. he's just so interesting, but I do think he's too overrated and done some really horrific things but people overlook that because of his charismatic and charming personality

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Aemond’s patience was a testament to the gravity of the moment, granting you the decency of privacy as you prepared to bare your soul. He remained in your solar, yet, even in the solace of solitude, you found yourself stalling, prolonging the inevitable.

You sank into the warmth of the bath, the fragrant water enveloping you like a gentle embrace. Each splash seemed to wash away not just the grime of the day before but the weight of your secrets, if only for a fleeting moment.

Emerging from the bath, you took your time, each gesture deliberate, each action a shield to stave off what awaited. You braided your hair intricately, each twist and weave a quiet reflection of the centuries that had passed, and you chose a gown—simple, yet elegant.

You stood before the mirror, your fingers trembling as they traced the delicate embroidery of the white gown that fell gracefully over your form. It was simple yet beautiful, much like the veneer you had worn for centuries. The gown’s gold embroidery caught the flickering sunlight, glimmering like the sun.

With a deep breath, you clasped the necklace around your neck, the Mikaelson emblem resting between your breasts like a lingering reminder of your lineage and the power that came with it.

Finally, with resolve steadying your heart, you pushed open the door to your solar. The scent of Aemond lingered in the air—earthy, faintly reminiscent of the dragonrider’s presence, grounding and yet intoxicating.

There he stood, framed by the soft, dappled sunlight that filtered through the window, his silhouette carved sharply against the room’s shadows. His one eye, always so piercing, was fixed on you—curiosity flickering within the cool violet depths, but also something darker, apprehension, perhaps even doubt.

“Are you ready?” His voice was low, steady, though an undercurrent of urgency rippled through it, enough to set your heart racing.

You swallowed, nodded, and then hesitated, your gaze shifting away from his for a brief moment before returning to him. "Helaena... she needs to be present as well."

Aemond’s brow furrowed, confusion lining his features as he studied your expression. “Why?” he asked, his voice measured but edged with impatience.

You let out a soft sigh, pursing your lips as you answered, “She’s already seen... *what* I am. Or at least, part of it.” You took a steadying breath. "When I killed those men to save Jaehaerys. She saw me—saw what I can become. She just doesn’t know the whole truth yet."

Aemond’s gaze darkened with understanding, though there was a glint of surprise in his eye. “And she just reacted to that without fear?” he asked, voice tinged with disbelief, though he kept it soft.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the awkwardness that had settled between the two of you ever since you revealed your true nature. Every interaction since then seemed unnatural, almost fragile.

"I suppose it was the shock of almost losing Jaehaerys," you admitted. "She was too focused on him to question anything else. But now... I owe her the truth as well."

Aemond let out another sigh, his gaze distant as if struggling with words left unspoken. You turned your face away, uncertainty swirling in your chest. But then, to your absolute surprise, his hand reached out to you, a gesture that felt both unexpected and intimate.

Without hesitation, you accepted it, your fingers intertwining with his, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His grip was firm, steady, grounding you in the moment as he began to lead you out of your chambers.

You followed without question, walking silently beside him, the gravity of what was to come weighing heavy between you.

He led you through the winding halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, his steps purposeful as the weight of the upcoming confrontation hung in the air. Finally, you reached the Queen's chambers.

Inside, you immediately caught sight of Alicent and Helaena seated together, quietly conversing on a chaise. The soft murmur of their conversation died the moment you and Aemond crossed the threshold.

Alicent’s sharp, perceptive gaze shifted to Aemond first, a flicker of suspicion and curiosity passing across her features. You could see the unease in her eyes, sensing that something important was amiss.

Aemond, however, made no effort to meet his mother's gaze, deliberately avoiding her presence as though she weren’t there. His silence spoke volumes, but Alicent’s focus quickly shifted to you.

Her brown eyes softened, and with a graceful rise from her seat, she approached you. Aemond's hand slipped from yours as you stepped forward to greet her.

"Queen Mother," you greeted, bowing your head slightly, unsure of how this moment would unfold.

To your surprise, Alicent did not remain distant or reserved. Instead, she moved swiftly toward you, wrapping you in a tight, unexpected embrace.

Her arms felt warm, maternal, and for a brief moment, the weight of your secrets and the danger surrounding you seemed to dissipate in the warmth of her embrace. She leaned in, her voice a soft whisper in your ear.

"I am so glad you are safe, sweet girl," she murmured, her tone filled with genuine relief. "The crown offers its deepest gratitude for returning Jaehaerys to us, alive and unharmed."

Her words stirred something deep within you—gratitude, perhaps, or the unfamiliar comfort of being seen as more than just what you were. You stiffened slightly in her embrace, though part of you longed to melt into it.

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, your voice faltering as the emotions of the moment swirled around you. Alicent’s embrace felt almost too warm, too human, for someone like you—a creature cursed with an eternity of isolation.

But the sound of a throat clearing broke the brief moment of tenderness. You and Alicent quickly parted, your attention drawn to Aemond, whose eye was fixed on you with a simmering impatience. He stood tall, his presence commanding and unyielding, barely sparing his mother a glance.

"Mother," Aemond said, his voice cutting through the air like the blade of Dark Sister itself, "I need to speak with the Queen in private."

Alicent’s brow furrowed at his words, the slight tension between mother and son palpable. She opened her mouth, perhaps to question or protest, but something in Aemond’s gaze silenced her.

He was resolved, and Alicent, wise enough not to provoke him further, merely pressed her lips into a thin line. Her gaze shifted between you, Helaena, and Aemond, weighing the gravity of the situation, before she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Of course, Aemond," Alicent finally said, her voice gentle but tinged with concern. She gave you one final look—filled with questions she would not yet ask—before turning to leave.

She paused only briefly by Helaena’s side, offering her daughter a reassuring touch, then swept from the room, her presence lingering even after the door had closed behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. Aemond, still standing with that unyielding presence, took a step closer, the intensity in his gaze impossible to ignore.

Helaena’s gaze, usually serene and distant, was now clouded with confusion. She glanced between you and Aemond, sensing that the weight of what you were about to reveal was far greater than she’d anticipated. Yet, she remained silent, waiting, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as if bracing herself for the truth.

Aemond’s presence, on the other hand, was far more commanding. He stood tall, casting a sharp glance at the maids and ladies in waiting, who quickly scurried out of the room under the silent weight of his glare.

It was only when the door closed behind them, leaving just the three of you in the chamber, that the tension in the room thickened.

You swallowed, steadying yourself before speaking. "Helaena," you began, your voice calm but edged with the gravity of the moment, "do you remember the night I left with Jaehaerys?"

Her delicate features twisted slightly as she recalled the night in question, a memory clearly etched into her heart. Her voice, usually soft and melodic, was now laced with sorrow. "You saved my children… from the rats."

Rats. That was how she had chosen to remember Blood and Cheese—the two men who had threatened her family’s life. A kinder word for the monsters they truly were.

"Do you remember how?" you asked carefully, watching her reaction, feeling the weight of Aemond's unwavering gaze on you.

Helaena frowned as she spoke again, her words as innocent as they were brutal. "You tore the first man’s throat with your teeth… and you commanded the other to stab himself."

The room grew colder with the silence that followed. Aemond’s eye had darkened, his expression a mix of astonishment and curiosity. You could feel him piecing together what had happened, what you had kept from him for so long.

You nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth of Helaena's words. "Yes," you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. "That was me. What you saw… was only a glimpse of what I truly am."

Helaena blinked, her gaze softening with understanding, though confusion still lingered in her eyes. "But how?" she whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

You turned your attention to Aemond then, meeting his gaze directly, feeling the intensity of his scrutiny. His silence was louder than words, and his curiosity sharper than any blade.

"In the beginning, our family was human, five centuries ago now," you began, your voice steady despite the tremor running through your heart.

"Though our mother dabbled in the dark arts, we were mostly a family like any other, trying to survive in a time when survival was far from guaranteed." A faint smile ghosted your lips, though it did not reach your eyes. "And for a time, we were happy."

A heavy silence fell over the room as you turned away from Helaena and Aemond, your gaze drifting to the shadows cast by the flickering sunlight. Helaena rested on her chaise, her eyes wide with curiosity, while Aemond remained at the center of the room, his stance rigid, every muscle poised in anticipation.

"But that happiness," you continued, your tone darkening, "was shattered one night. My younger brother, Hendrik, was killed. Slain by the very creatures who ruled our village’s nights—men who could transform into wolves under the full moon."

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly, his attention sharp, but he did not speak. Helaena, sitting quietly, clutched her hands together, her gaze never leaving you as you spoke.

"Our family was devastated," you said, your voice cracking as you recalled the memory of your brother’s death. "You see, before I was even born, my parents had already known such pain. They had lost their first daughter, Freya, to a fever one harsh winter. My mother, shattered by grief, vowed she would never lose another child. So, when Hendrik was taken from us, our father forced her to act. He demanded she call upon the darkest of magics to protect us from ever falling prey again."

You paused, letting the weight of those words sink in. "Thus, the first vampires were born," you whispered. "But with this strength, this speed, this immortality, came a curse. A hunger."

"A hunger for what?" Helaena’s voice was soft, laced with the innocent curiosity she often carried, though now tinged with something darker—fear.

You met her gaze, your own eyes hard with the truth you could no longer conceal. "For blood," you answered, the word hanging in the air like a blade waiting to fall.

"We do not require food or water, those are indulgences. Pleasures we once took for granted, now rendered meaningless. What we need to sustain ourselves… is blood. Without it, we wither. We decay, like corpses left to rot in the ground."

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Helaena’s face paled, her fingers trembling slightly as she absorbed your words. Aemond’s expression remained unreadable, though the flicker in his eye betrayed the internal storm he was wrestling with.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to continue, knowing that this truth was just the beginning. "The blood lust consumes us if we let it. My family, we learned how to control it, how to live among humans without succumbing to the beast within. But it is always there, lurking beneath the surface."

The silence in the room felt suffocating, pressing down on you like a weight too heavy to bear. Desperate to break the tension, you spoke before your thoughts could catch up to your words. "I could show you," you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond blinked, his singular eye narrowing in intrigue as he stepped closer, his presence commanding. "Show us? How?" His tone was measured, but you could hear the underlying curiosity—perhaps even a touch of suspicion.

"Through my memories," you replied softly. "One of my many gifts." You could feel the energy pulsing in your fingertips as you spoke, the ancient magic within you stirring. "It’s the only way for you to truly understand." You gestured for him to take a seat beside Helaena, who looked between the two of you with wide, expectant eyes.

Aemond hesitated for only a moment before following your instruction, settling beside his sister. His sharp gaze never left you, as if he was weighing every move you made, every word you spoke.

You stood before them, inhaling deeply as you focused your mind, your fingers lightly brushing their temples. The magic flowed, ancient and powerful, as you called upon the memory you intended to share.

The scene that unfolded was vivid, like stepping into a dream. The air was filled with laughter and song, the night lit by the glow of bonfires and candles as your village celebrated one of its strange but joyous holidays.

You had been so naïve then, your heart unburdened, the grief of Hendrik's death momentarily forgotten. You could feel the warmth of the night, the joy in the air as you twirled around the fire, Finn’s laughter ringing out as he spun you in a carefree dance.

The memory shifted—your joy dimming as you realized how late it had grown. You had stayed out far past your curfew, long after your family had returned home.

Panic clawed at your chest as you hurried through the darkened streets, the vibrant festival fading behind you as you made your way toward your family’s hut. The village that had felt so alive only moments before now seemed eerily quiet, shadows stretching long across the ground.

You moved without caution, without thought, only the mounting dread driving you forward as you rushed into the hut. What you saw froze your blood in your veins—a massacre.

You guided Aemond and Helaena deeper into the memory, forcing them to see, to feel what you had felt. The dread, the growing realization that something was terribly wrong.

You could feel Aemond stiffen beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away, his curiosity holding him still. Helaena’s breath quickened, her hand instinctively reaching for your wrist as the memory unfolded.

Everywhere you looked, blood painted the walls and floors, the very scent of it thick and suffocating. The bodies of your siblings lay strewn about, lifeless, their blood seeping into the ground. A scream tore from your throat, raw and filled with the kind of anguish only centuries could numb.

Your eyes immediately found Niklaus, lying in a pool of his own blood. His eyes were closed, and a deep wound marred his chest. You dropped to your knees beside him, shaking his shoulders, your hands slipping against his blood-soaked skin. "Niklaus, wake up!" you sobbed, desperate, unwilling to accept what your eyes were telling you.

But Niklaus didn’t stir. None of them did. Elijah, Rebekah, Finn, Kol—they all lay broken and still.

More cries racked your body, your voice hoarse from screaming as you knelt among the fallen, each heartbeat filling you with an unbearable grief. Then, a sound from behind—a voice, cold and venomous, cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"You know not how long I've waited for this moment."

Your blood ran colder than before. Slowly, you turned, your heart pounding as your gaze fell upon the figure in the doorway. Your father, Mikael, stood bathed in the blood of his children, his face twisted in cruel satisfaction. His sword dripped with the very essence of your kin, your family.

Before you could even draw breath, his sword flashed, and a sharp, searing pain pierced your chest. You gasped, a choked sound escaping your lips as you stumbled back, the life draining from you.

Your knees buckled beneath you as you collapsed beside Niklaus, your body growing cold. The strength seeped from your limbs as darkness edged in from the corners of your vision.

Mikael’s cold gaze remained fixed on you, watching as your life slipped away. Your final breath left your lips in a shudder, your hand still reaching for Niklaus, but he remained still.

The memory surged forth, a vivid nightmare that felt all too close, even after all the years that had passed. It was a dark night, mere weeks since your transformation, and chaos reigned in the village.

The villagers, fueled by fear and anger, sought to rid themselves of you and your siblings after the bloodshed that had followed your awakening—a bloodlust you had barely begun to comprehend.

Finn and Kol had already made their escape. Finn’s voice had been urgent, his grip firm on your arm as he implored you to join him.

But you had begged him to stay, to help your family escape together. Yet his resolve had faltered, and he had slipped away into the night, leaving you behind in a whirlwind of dread and desperation.

Elijah and Rebekah were frantically packing the remnants of their lives, their expressions strained with urgency. You could feel the weight of fear suffocating the air around you, a heavy tension that made your heart race.

The deep-seated hatred your father held for you and Niklaus loomed over you like a storm cloud, threatening to break at any moment. It was a hatred that could ignite into violence without warning, and you knew it.

Your heart raced as you realized it was up to Niklaus to persuade your mother to flee with you. You paced, the flickering fire casting shadows that danced on the ground, mirroring the turmoil within you.

Then, at last, Niklaus entered your line of sight. He stepped through the trees, and the world around you came to a halt. There was something unsettling about him; his usual bravado was replaced by an unsettling vulnerability. His hands trembled slightly, fingers clenched at his sides as though they held the weight of the world.

"Niklaus," you asked, worry knotting in your stomach as you approached him, gently cupping his hands in yours. "What’s happened? Where’s Mother?"

His terrified blue eyes met yours, glistening with unshed tears. He shook his head, and dread filled the air between you. "She’s dead."

Time seemed to freeze, the world around you fading into a blur. You blinked, disbelief clouding your mind. "What?"

"I—" He swallowed hard, anguish etched on his features. "Father—he—he killed her."

The words crashed over you like a wave, cold and suffocating. Tears welled in your eyes as the harsh reality settled into your bones. "No. No! This can’t be!"

You turned away, desperation flooding your veins as you intended to return home, to your mother. But before you could move, Niklaus’s arms encircled your waist, holding you tightly against his chest. "You cannot go back!"

"Let me go, Niklaus!" you yelled, anguish spilling forth in choked sobs. "Mama! Mama!"

The name echoed in the forest, each cry a plea, each scream an invocation. You expected her to appear, to sweep you up into her embrace and assure you that everything would be alright. But the silence that followed was deafening, a stark reminder of the void she left behind.

You broke down in Niklaus's arms, the weight of your grief crashing over you like a tide. He held you tight, rocking you gently as if you were still a child. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the ache in your heart and the overwhelming emptiness that threatened to swallow you whole.

"A glooming peace this morning brings; the sun, for sorrow, will not show his head," you recited softly, your voice echoing in the dim light of the crypt. The words from the latest play felt heavier in the air, reflecting the turmoil that had once engulfed England.

"Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things; some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Your gaze drifted down to Finn, lying in that same accursed casket, the familiar silver dagger lodged deep in his chest. Time had moved on, and yet here you were, five hundred years later, still shackled by the past.

Your family had relocated to Denmark, leaving the ruins of England behind, but the pain of loss clung to you like a shroud. Finn remained as he was, forever caught in that moment, forever untouched by the passing centuries.

Elijah had gifted you the latest work from an emerging playwright, a man named William Shakespeare, with the hope that it would bring you some joy.

You had thought it fitting to share the story with Finn while he lay in eternal slumber, believing that perhaps the beauty of words might bridge the chasm between the living and the dead.

As you reached the poignant conclusion, tears brimmed in your eyes, the heart-wrenching tale resonating within your very soul.

You closed the book gently, feeling the weight of both grief and longing. Your heart ached not just for the characters but for the brother you had lost to a fate more cruel than death.

“That was quite sad, was it not?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you looked at Finn's serene face, still and undisturbed. "Even in the depths of darkness, love remains, yet it always seems to come at a terrible cost."

You ran your fingers gently over the spine of the book, as if the words could somehow transcend the veil of death and reach him. “I wish you were awake to truly enjoy this story with me,” you murmured, your voice barely breaking the silence of the mausoleum.

A sudden idea ignited in your mind, flickering like a candle in the dark. When you and your family had moved to a sprawling mansion in the lush countryside of Denmark, you had insisted on a grand mausoleum to be built for Finn.

It was a sanctuary for you and a place where Finn could rest peacefully, far removed from the grim dungeons of England that Niklaus had left him in.

Your gaze wandered to the entrance of the crypt, the heavy stone door that concealed the world outside. Then your eyes fell on the dagger lodged in Finn’s heart, its silver glinting in the dim light.

Perhaps? If only for a fleeting moment? The thought pulsed through you like a heartbeat, urging you onward.

As your hands glided over the hard wood of his coffin, they trailed down to Finn’s body, gently caressing his dark hair. You could almost feel the warmth of him again, a reminder of the brother you had lost.

Your heart raced, anticipation mingled with trepidation, as you finally wrapped your fingers around the silver dagger.

In that heartbeat, you paused, caught in the gravity of your decision. Then, with a deep breath, you began to pull it from his chest, the air heavy with unspoken consequences.

“What are you doing!”

The sharp voice sliced through the quiet, causing your hand to jerk away from the dagger and fly to your heart. You turned to find Niklaus standing in the doorway, a gift box clutched in his hands, yet his expression was thunderous, dark clouds gathering in his stormy blue eyes.

You shook your head rapidly, feeling your hands tremble with uncertainty. “Nothing, Nik, I promise.”

In the blink of an eye, Niklaus was in front of you, his speed making him appear like a shadow, silent and swift. The gift he had been holding now lay discarded on the cold stone floor.

His grip tightened around your arms, painfully firm, causing a pained whisper to escape your lips. His gaze bore into yours, filled with a tempest of betrayal and fury as he hissed, “Do not lie to me, sister.”

The weight of his anger made your heart race, and you winced as tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the sight of his hardened expression.

“I-I just thought Finn had been asleep long enough,” you stammered, your voice trembling, trying to explain while knowing there was no real justification that would soothe him.

His grip only tightened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. “So you betray me like this?” The raw accusation in his tone stung worse than his hold on you.

“No, Nik, never,” you whimpered, your voice fragile as you shook your head again. “Please, you're hurting me.”

But Niklaus seemed deaf to your plea, his rage drowning out your words. His grip tightened even more, and his voice rose with a venomous edge. “You forget he is daggered because of you! I did this for you!"

“I know, Nik,” you murmured softly, wincing as the pain in your arms deepened, both from his hold and the weight of his words.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Niklaus bellowed, his frustration clear as his voice echoed through the room, “Why can you not see that Finn would never do the same? He would never go to such lengths to keep you safe!”

Tears spilled freely from your eyes as you turned your gaze away from him, the overwhelming guilt pressing down on your chest. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking under the strain of his fury.

His words pierced through you like a dagger, each one sharp with betrayal and hurt. “I’ve protected you,” he continued, his voice cracking with emotion, “I’ve killed for you, sacrificed everything, and still, you go behind my back!”

Sobs overtook you, your entire body trembling as the weight of his anger and your guilt suffocated you. “Niklaus, please,” you begged, your voice barely a whisper, your heart aching with the knowledge of how deeply you had wounded him.

At that moment, his rage faltered, and his piercing gaze locked onto yours. The room seemed to still as his next words fell like a chilling curse, low and filled with a cruel finality. “I should put a dagger in your heart.”

A sob tore from your throat as you shook your head, pleading with silent desperation. Just as you thought his fury would turn violent, the tension snapped.

Niklaus was suddenly knocked aside, and you found yourself enveloped in warm, protective arms. Elijah. His presence was steadying, his voice calm but commanding as he faced his volatile brother. “Niklaus! You are scaring her.”

“She should be scared!" Niklaus roared, pointing an accusing finger toward you, his fury still burning brightly. You buried your face deeper into Elijah's chest, seeking refuge from the storm that was your brother’s wrath. “Does she not understand? If Finn were awake, we’d have been put down by Mikael long ago!”

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to Elijah, your voice breaking under the weight of your guilt. "I'm sorry, Nik. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t—”

Niklaus’ breathing was ragged, his rage simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to explode. But Elijah remained calm, his hold on you firm.

“Niklaus, leave,” Elijah said, his voice quiet yet authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

Niklaus inhaled sharply, his gaze flickering between you and Elijah, his anger barely contained. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous murmur. “You forget yourself, sister.”

His words cut deep, filled with cold warning. “Finn remains daggered for a reason. Do not mistake my love for you as permission to defy me.”

With that, he stormed out, his presence leaving a void as heavy as the tension still lingering in the air. The silence that followed was suffocating, and in its wake, your emotions broke free.

You collapsed into Elijah’s arms, your sobs shaking your body, the words tumbling from your lips in a fevered rush. “I didn’t mean to, Elijah. I swear, I didn��t mean to. Please, don't let him dagger me.”

Elijah held you close, his touch gentle as he caressed your head, whispering soothingly into your ear. “I won't, sweet sister,” he murmured, his voice a balm to your frightened heart. “I give you my word.”

The next morning, you woke with a dull ache in your chest, the familiar weight of sadness pressing down on you like an old wound that never healed.

The grand four-poster bed, with its silk curtains and velvet drapes, felt like a prison—beautiful, but suffocating. You turned over, pulling the heavy covers tighter around yourself, but the pain lingered, gnawing at your heart.

It always ached. That deep, unshakable sorrow had taken root long ago, twisting itself around your soul. You wondered, in those quiet, lonely moments, if you were going mad.

The only thing tethering you to sanity, to something real, was Elijah—his steady presence, his unwavering devotion. Without him, you feared you might fall apart completely.

As you shifted, your gaze caught something on the edge of the bed that made your breath catch in your throat. There, resting on the quilt, was the same gift box Niklaus had held the night before. Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, bringing it onto your lap as if it might break or vanish in your hands.

The lid opened with a soft creak, revealing a small, velvet jewelry case. Your heart stuttered as you lifted the lid, and tears welled in your eyes. Inside was a simple silver pendant, its surface gleaming faintly in the morning light. Encrusted in the center was an ornate "M" for Mikaelson.

Niklaus always did this. After the rage, after the terrifying outbursts, after he screamed at you and made you feel small—he would leave an apology gift, never speaking a word of the pain he caused.

It was his way. He never asked for forgiveness. He just assumed you would give it, time and time again.

And you did.

Every single time.

Your fingers trembled as you lifted the pendant from the case, letting the cool metal slide through your hands. With a resigned sigh, you fastened it around your neck, the chain resting against your skin like a silent promise. It was beautiful, yes, but it was also a reminder of the cycle you could never escape.

As the pendant settled against your chest, you wiped away the tears that threatened to spill over, whispering to yourself, “He did not mean it.” You had said it so many times before, hoping that if you repeated it enough, you might actually believe it.

But deep down, you knew the truth.

Niklaus loved you. In his own broken, twisted way, he loved you and your siblings more than anything. But his love was a storm—wild, uncontrollable, and dangerous. And every time you forgave him, you found yourself standing in the eye of that storm, waiting for it to rage again.

Slowly, you pulled yourself back to the present, forcing Helaena and Aemond from the depths of your memories as you stepped away. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and your trembling hands wiped the dampness from your cheeks. You had lived lifetimes hiding this pain, but tonight it had clawed its way out.

Helaena’s face was pale, her own tears mirroring yours. She trembled, wide-eyed, as if the weight of your confession threatened to break her. And Aemond... Aemond’s single eye bore into you with a mix of disbelief and something deeper, something far more devastating.

He stared at you as if you were a ghost, a shadow of the person he thought he knew. For the first time, it seemed, he truly saw you—broken and damaged in ways that not even centuries could mend.

You forced a tight, bitter smile, the words catching in your throat as you truly introduced yourself, "I am the youngest child of the original witch, Esther Mikaelson. My siblings and I are the first of our kind—vampires born from blood and magic. We are the strongest creatures in this world, and yet..." Your voice wavered, betraying the sorrow that clung to every word, "we are damaged beyond repair."

You looked between them, your eyes hollow, carrying the weight of endless centuries of pain. "We live without hope, but we will never die. We are the definition of 'cursed'."

The room fell silent, a heavy, oppressive stillness that mirrored the truth of your existence. You swallowed hard, repeating the words that had once been a promise but had long since turned to chains, the mantra that bound you and your siblings to each other.

"Always and forever."

Reader's Wardrobe

(she's wearing the middle dress in this chapter)

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

@urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @moonymoo1 @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @ln8118 @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite

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[shadowsviper]

Hello! Here to say hi! Your post appeared on my scroll and I noticed you have just one, so I figured you might be new around here! Welcome to Tumblr! I hope you find your crowd soon enough! 💖

In the meantime, do you mind telling me something about Jason Todd? I've never been too deep into DC, but I recognize his name. I'd love to hear your headcannons/thoughts about him! 💖

Hi! Thanks for welcoming me :) I've actually been lurking on tumblr for a while before I finally got the confidence to start writing.

Here's a short basic rundown of Jason: Jason Todd is the second person to take the mantle of Robin after Dick Grayson. Batman caught him stealing the wheels off the Batmobile in a dark alleyway one night and took him in. He was more rebellious and he didn't like Batman's moral code. Fans actually voted to kill him off in the series. Jason would be beaten by the Joker with a crowbar and left to die with his mother inside a warehouse with a time bomb. He would later be resurrected by Talia Al Ghul in the Lazarus Pit and took the mantle of Red Hood. He would use guns and violence when it came to crime fighting. When he found out that Batman didn't avenge him in any way, he felt betrayed and let his anger out on Gotham's criminals. He believed that they deserved a worse punishment.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jason Todd Headcannons

He loves to bake, especially cookies. He'll bake other pastries every now and then, but his go to is cookies. It's something he'll never admit to his family, other than Alfred. He'll drop off some to his brothers sometimes with an insulting note; he would say they're poisoned just to mess with Tim

Whenever he has free time, he's in the library. Sometimes he'll be at the public library if he doesn't want to see his family. Other times he'll be in the Manor looking at whatever new books Alfred and Damian bought

It's actually canon that Jason likes to read books like Pride and Prejudice, and The Art of War, among many others

He loves to bother his brothers whenever he can

He loves to swing by GCPD when Dick is working just to mess with him. He might even go as far as faking an emergency just for the emergency to be him wanting to say a quick fuck you

Dick has banned him from coming within a 20-foot radius of GCPD. He also threatened to arrest him if he got close

It doesn't stop Jason. He has yet to be arrested because they technically can't arrest a dead man

He'll mess with Tim at any time. His things will slowly go missing; his mugs, coffee, important papers, you name it.

One time when Tim left his place unattended, Jason moved everything an inch to the left. It drove Tim crazy. More crazy than he already was considering he hadn't slept for the past two days. He'll get Jason back one day

What he does with Damian is a 50/50. Sometimes he'll spar with him for fun. Just a quick training exercise or he's actually trying to kill the demon spawn, who knows. Other times they're both reading silently in the corner of the library.

They won't talk about it after

Definitely broke into Wayne Enterprises way too many times

He had no reason to go in. He just wanted to bother Bruce or Tim. Or both

Definitely both

Has been escorted out multiple times with Bruce watching with his head in his hands

That man is stressed lmao

Definitely picks up Damian from school with white girl music blasting at full volume. The bass is cranked up to the point where you can feel it inside the school

Damian hates it so much because his classmates find Jason pretty cool and they keep trying to talk to him about Jason

Later banned from picking Damian up from school

[obsidian-pages777]

Pick a Card: A Love letter for an Introvert.[Pick a mythical aesthetic]

Pile 1-Fairy core, Pile 2-Water Nymph core, Pile 3- Witch core. Left->Right

Introduction

These are love letters to each one of you that picks a pile and if you happen to be an introverted soul walking on this earthly realm of existence give this reading a glance. I hope this works as a perfect- pick me up- for anytime of your day, whether you are stuck with massive amounts of boredom, back home from a tough work day or school day or even if you happen to be trying to find that quiet corner that you feel the most comfortable in, in this loud bustling world. Hope this gives you a sense of reassurance and peace.

The Music to help you today is in the link below:

Aurora- Your Blood

================================================================================================

Pile 1

Dearest Gentle Soul,

I write to you today with a heart full of admiration, for I have watched you navigate the winding paths of life with such grace and quiet determination. You have some qualities that you may not always see in yourself, but that shine brightly to those who take the time to look closely.

You have accomplished so much, my fren. The battles you’ve fought, though often silent and unseen by others, have shaped you into the remarkable person you are today. The world may not always recognize the quiet victories, but I see them in every step you take. Each obstacle you’ve overcome has been a testament to your resilience, a reminder of the power that lies within you.

Be proud, for you have come so far. You have faced challenges that others may never understand, and you’ve emerged stronger, wiser, and more compassionate and determined. Your journey is one of quiet triumphs, and though the road ahead may still hold its share of trials, remember that you are more than capable of continuing to rise above them.

With every achievement, no matter how small, you are crafting a life that is uniquely yours—a life built on the foundations of strength, courage, and self-belief. So take a moment, to bask in the glory of all you have done. Let pride fill your heart, for you have earned it a thousand times over.

With all my love,

Your Fairy Companion [wink wink]

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Pile 2

Beloved Introverted Heart,

Today, I find myself compelled to remind you of the extraordinary beauty that lies within you. Your soul tells a tale of someone with a soul as deep and vast as the ocean, filled with nuances and subtleties that are rare and precious.

Your uniqueness is a gift, a treasure that sets you apart in a world that often celebrates the loudest voices. It is your quiet nature, your introspection, that allows you to see the world in ways that others might miss. You notice the details, the small moments of magic that others overlook. You bring thoughtfulness, understanding, and a calm presence that is a balm to those around you.

There is a power in your stillness, a wisdom in your reflection. You are not meant to conform to the expectations of others, for you are a rare gem, one that sparkles brightest in its own light. Appreciate these qualities, for they are what make you so incredibly special.

Do not seek to change or mold yourself into something you are not. Instead, embrace the beauty of your introverted nature. It is in your quiet strength that you find your true power, in your gentle spirit that you touch the lives of others in profound ways. It is okay to retreat from this loud world from time to time. The world needs your unique light, and it shines most brilliantly when you allow yourself to simply be.

With appreciation,

Your Friend from Seas Apart

================================================================================================

Pile 3

Dearest Kindred Spirit,

I see the path you walk, and I am here to tell you that you are doing incredibly well. The cards reveal a journey that is not always easy, but one that you continue to face with unwavering dedication. You work hard, often without the recognition you deserve, yet you keep moving forward with quiet determination.

I want you to know that your efforts are not in vain. Every step you take, every task you complete, brings you closer to the life you are striving to create. It is in these small, consistent efforts that great achievements are born. You may not always see the progress, but it is there, building with each passing day.

Take heart, darling, for you are on the right path. Your hard work is a testament to your strength of character, your commitment to your goals. Even on the days when it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, know that you have the power to carry it. You are stronger than you realize, more capable than you give yourself credit for.

Do not lose faith in yourself, for the journey ahead is bright with possibility. Keep pushing forward, even when the road seems long. Your dreams are within reach, and your hard work is the key that will unlock them. Remember, you are not alone on this path—your angels walk with you, cheering you on every step of the way.

With unwavering encouragement,

Your Witchy Companion.

[eunsuri]

The Lighthouse

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan

Summary: Lavellan explores The Lighthouse and reunites with her heart.

Word Count: 6,608

Warnings: ANGST. Lots of emotions. Lots of love. VEILGUARD SPOILERS.

A/N: Hi everyone! Happy 2 weeks until Veilguard! This has taken me way longer to write than I'd hoped, but I MADE IT! This was inspired by a beautiful piece of art by @pani-artz, I couldn't resist! I've kept Lavellan's description vague for those who would like to keep their own Lavellan in mind while reading! Also posted on AO3!

“We’re here.”

A cold breeze swept through the crossroads, cooling Lavellan’s skin as she stepped up the stairs, Harding, and Leliana flanking her from behind. The three stood before the Eluvian, the shimmering surface glowing faintly. The ancient mirror reflected the crumbled pieces of the ruins floating within the crossroads, flickering with ancient magic and ready to draw them into another world.

Anticipation stirred in Lavellan’s stomach, her senses heightened and glaring at her warped reflection. The faint glow of the mirror’s surface cast a strange light across the stone floor through the overgrown foliage around its frame, and the chill in the air seemed to seep into her bones. 

Harding and Leliana exchanged glances behind her, but she hardly noticed, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest like a wild creature trying to escape its cage. Harding had seen this Lighthouse before, She knew what lay behind the Eluvian, all the memories hidden in Solas’ base of operations.

Lavellan knew Solas wouldn’t be waiting for her on the other side. Instead, what awaited was everything he had left behind—his memories, his isolation, the echoes of a life spent in the shadows. The thought of stepping into his world, of facing the remnants of his past and the pieces he had chosen to keep hidden, sent a wave of dread through her. She wasn’t sure she was ready for what she might see—for how deeply his loneliness would be etched into every corner of this place

He had stopped appearing in her dreams, no matter how hard she searched the endless distance where he once stood, always watching over her from afar. Even when she reached out, he’d slip away like a shadow, yet his presence had brought her comfort. Night after night, she would speak to him—tell him how much she missed him, how she longed to change his heart. The wolf never answered, but the sorrow in his eyes cut deeper each time, and her desperation to find him only grew over the years.

Now, her dreams were empty, filled with nothing but the ache of waiting for a love that never came. Sleepless nights blurred together as she wondered if he had forgotten her, or if something terrible had happened to him. When Harding had brought news that Solas was alive but trapped in the Fade, it brought a measure of relief, yet doubt still gnawed at her. Would she find any sign that he remembered her in this place, or had she been lost to him as well?

Harding broke the silence, her voice gentle but laced with tension. “It’s… a lot to take in, but I thought you might want to see it.” She paused, then added, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Lavellan’s breath caught in her throat, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over her. Ready? She didn’t think she ever could be. How could anyone prepare to see the deepest, most private parts of someone they loved, but had lost so long ago? 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She needed to do this, no matter how much it hurt. She needed to understand him in a way she hadn’t before, to see his world, his pain, and his purpose. Where he had been all this time, if he remembered her. Even if he wasn’t there to explain it himself.

Lavellan took a shaky, deep breath and stepped toward the mirror, the surface rippling as she neared. With a final glance back at Harding and Leliana, she stepped through and the two followed.

Emerging on the other side, her breath caught in her chest. The three stepped into a realm bathed in a warm, golden glow, as if suspended in the sky. Floating islands hovered in the distance, each dotted with autumn-hued trees as if kissed by sunlight, gently swaying in an unseen breeze. Ancient elven ruins, crumbled yet graceful, drifted among them, suspended in the air like forgotten dreams.

Before them stood a weathered statue of Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf, positioned in the heart of the courtyard. It was a figure of a protector—his posture calm, watching over the space with an almost serene presence. Cracks ran through the stone, softened by patches of moss that had claimed him over time, as though nature itself had embraced him. The statue seemed ancient, yet resilient, a symbol of an age long past, guarding the Lighthouse like a silent sentinel.

Beyond the statue, the Lighthouse rose, stretching impossibly high into the sky, its top crowned by a bright magical light encased in a spinning golden roof. The beacon pulsed with an ethereal glow, guiding not only the lost but also wandering spirits seeking refuge. The golden accents that decorated the Lighthouse shimmered in the sunlight, long streams of green fabric dancing in the wind.

Lavellan marvelled at the beauty and serenity of the place as she continued towards the entrance of the Lighthouse, carefully stepping down the broken staircase. The large door opened as the three approached, allowing them to enter the towering building.

Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the faded murals stretching along the pathway, their muted colours leading into the centre of the Lighthouse. Each one told a story—Solas’ time in Arlathan, his stories of rebellion, and the ancient history of the elves, including the tale of the Evanuris' downfall.The images on the walls, the stories painted into the stone, all reflected the weight of millennia. 

Murals she had seen variations of before caught her eye, depicting Fen’Harel freeing slaves and removing their Vallaslin, as he had once done for her. Another told the story of the Evanuris’ rise to power and their tyrannical ways, with Fen’Harel’s outstretched arms attempting to show them they were not truly gods.

The Dalish legends she had grown up with had taught her to fear the Dread Wolf, to tread lightly lest the trickster god hear her footsteps. But now, knowing him as she did—not as the villain in their stories, but as the man who had fought to free his people, the man she loved—her heart was torn. The fear remained, lingering like an old scar, but it was now tangled with love, understanding, and sorrow for what he had become.

Lavellan wandered through the Lighthouse, her steps slow as she absorbed the surroundings. Relics of a world long lost lay scattered around, each one steeped in both history and longing. The air felt thick with memories—some sorrowful, others sacred—echoes of a time far beyond reach.

She found herself in a large room that appeared to be underwater, giant framed glass windows as a barrier between the water, with many schools of fish swimming through the depths. A lone green leather sofa was situated in the middle of the room, stuffed bookshelves lined the walls, and an array of candles scattered across the floor creating a cosy warmth that drew her in. 

It was then that a soft flicker of candlelight against brilliant colours drew her gaze to a mural, its glow pulling at her like a distant memory. A set of candles was arranged on either side of the mural, almost as though it were a shrine. As she made her way towards the artwork, her heart sank deep into her stomach, a heavy weight settling in her chest.

The painting depicted a woman—one hand raised high, a radiant burst of green light pouring from her palm, the other clutching a sword close to her chest. Below the hilt, the familiar mark of the Inquisition gleamed. It was her.

The weight of this realisation struck her in an instant, chest tightening with disbelief, an ache settling deep as sorrow wrapped itself around her heart. Her likeness, immortalised in these ancient halls, was a reminder of what she once stood for, of the time they shared and the distance between them now. 

Her fingers traced along the lines of the mural, imagining the strokes Solas had made, his hand dragging the brush across the stone with care. Every detail, every line, told her this was more than a mere addition to his collection of stories. This was crafted with love. He had painted her not just to remember her, but to hold onto her presence, as though each stroke was a vow to never let her fade from his memory.

Tears pooled along her eyelashes. She didn’t know whether to feel honoured, heartbroken, or both. Every detail of the mural seemed to call out to her, each brushstroke a whisper of what had been, what was lost. Slowly, Lavellan’s gaze fell to a small wooden box resting beneath the mural, its presence unassuming, as though it had always been waiting for her.

Hands trembling, she reached for the box, dragging her fingertips along the warmed wood, and gently lifted the lid. Inside, nestled among the old wood, lay Solas' jawbone necklace. The one he had always worn. Lavellan paused, inspecting the familiar necklace before  reaching to lift it from the box. The sensation of the cold bone and thick rope looped around it was almost foreign, yet the weight of its meaning was still heavy.

As the jawbone rested in her palm, memories surged through her mind—fragments of what they once had. She recalled how she’d often tug him closer by the necklace, his lips moving against hers, fervent and desperate, as though her touch were the very air he breathed. She remembered idly tracing the rigid texture of the necklace as she lay against his chest, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breath as he shared quiet stories of the Fade. Each moment felt as tangible as the cool bone now in her grasp.

She could no longer hold it with the same warmth she once had, but the connection to him, to their shared past, lingered still. The weight of the jawbone in her hand felt like a lifeline to the man she had been hunting for all these years. Desperate to keep that feeling close, she gently lifted the necklace over her head, letting the familiar curve of bone rest against her chest. It settled there, and for a brief moment, she felt as though she had him with her again.

Lavellan clutched the bone in her hand while blinking away the lingering tears which threatened to fall at any moment. As she moved forward, every step felt heavier, unable to shake the palpable sense of solitude that hung in the air. This place, with all its beauty, was not just a refuge for spirits. It was a place of mourning—a sanctuary for Solas’ lost hopes, where his memories whispered through every crack in the stone, and his loneliness lingered like a shadow.

Further in, a large dining table sat in the centre of the room. The long wooden surface stretched out before her, grand and ancient, yet only a single place setting lay at its head—a lone plate, a single cup, and neatly arranged cutlery beside them. An ache squeezed in her chest at the sight. This table, large enough for a gathering, bore only the quiet signs of one man’s solitary meals. Solas had sat here alone, day after day, surrounded by memories and ghosts of his old ambitions. 

She couldn’t bear the thought of him there, sitting quietly, the vast emptiness echoing through the room as he contemplated the burden of his mission. He had been so steadfast, so determined, yet the loneliness had seeped into every corner of his existence. How many nights had he sat here in silence, the weight of his choices pressing down on him, thinking that this was the only choice he had.

The simple setting was a stark reminder of everything he had left behind for his mission—companionship, love, the simple joys of shared moments. The pain choked at Lavellan's throat and the tears she had fought streamed down her skin as she took in the sight. She rested a hand on the back of the chair, picturing him there, staring into the distance across the table, as he grappled with the weight of millennia. He had shut everyone out, even those who would have fought beside him, and in doing so, had consigned himself to this eternal isolation.

Lavellan stood still by the table, the weight of her thoughts pushing down on her shoulders like a storm cloud on the verge of breaking. Her sadness gave way to a simmering anger that twisted deep in her chest. How could he have left her—left them—like this?  If only Solas had confided in her—trusted her with his truths. If only he had let her share the burden that had twisted his path into something unrecognisable. Things could have been different; they could have faced this together. She could have stood by his side, helped him bear the weight of his cause, find a better way, and maybe, just maybe, spared them both the pain of this isolation.

The thoughts of what could have been pierced through her, sharp and unyielding. How different would their lives have been if he hadn’t pushed her away, if he hadn’t shrouded himself in secrecy and left her to chase shadows for years? Heavy and unrelenting regret settled into her bones. They could have shared this—this fight, this journey. She had loved him enough to stay, to fight for him, but he had locked her out, too consumed by his purpose, too afraid to burden her with the truth. 

Her fingers curled into her palms, hands clenched at her sides, frustration clawing its way up her body as she thought of the pain he had caused—his actions had left Varric wounded, with the false gods free to wreak their havoc upon the world. He had condemned himself to isolation, convinced he was sparing her the pain when, in truth, he had only deepened the wound.

Maybe he had been too proud, too wrapped in his conviction that he had to bear this weight alone. He hadn’t let her love him the way she could have. If only. If only things had been different. If only he had trusted her.

Lavellan’s thoughts were then interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. She wiped at her eyes hastily, straightening her posture as Leliana appeared at the doorway.

“They’ve returned,” Leliana spoke softly. “Rook and the others are back.”

Lavellan turned, her heart still heavy from the weight of her reflections. Without a word, she nodded, following Leliana out of the room and towards the group that had gathered in the main hall.

There was more to it now—she’d learned that Rook had formed a connection with Solas. A tether, almost, caused by the disrupted ritual. She had to know if there was a way, some hidden thread she could pull to reach him herself, to bridge the distance between them once more. 

A spark of determination tingled through her skin. If Rook had found a way to connect, perhaps she could too.

Later that same evening, with the sharp sting of her discoveries still fresh in her chest, Lavellan found herself standing in the Fade. 

Rook had spoken of how they had become connected to Solas through the ritual gone wrong, their fates intertwined, and Lavellan had seized upon that fragile link. It was all she needed—a thread, however thin, to follow him.

With Varric’s warning in her ears and Solas’ necklace warm against her skin, she stepped forward, stumbling through the dark and desolate landscape of the Fade. The twisted remnants of broken elven statues loomed around her, their cracked surfaces glinting dully in the ethereal light, like forgotten memories trapped in stone. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burnt magic, a bitter tang that clung to her tongue, tainted by a ritual gone horribly wrong. 

As she moved, the ground crumbled beneath her feet, each step sending a shiver through her body as she navigated the uneven terrain. She could feel Solas’ presence—distant, yet unmistakable—like a flickering flame in the depths of her mind, pulling her forward despite the air of despair that settled around her like a shroud. Echoes of lost voices whispered through the stillness, their lamentations brushing against her ears, urging her to keep searching in this forsaken place.

She had worked so hard to find him over the past ten years, constantly reaching for him in her dreams only for him to slip away like a fading memory. Her relief at hearing he was alive warred with the anger gnawing at her heart. He had stopped appearing in her dreams, and for so long she had feared the worst—afraid he had been consumed by his mission, or worse, by his pride. Yet here he was, trapped in the Fade, perhaps lost in his own way.

The thought of him being trapped, cut off from everything, pulled at her heart. Just as she had found him again, he was suffering. But that grief mixed with a simmering anger. He had hurt Varric, who had only been trying to stop him from making a terrible mistake.

Her steps quickened, the greyed path through the Fade twisting and bending as though it were alive. She remembered Varric’s words—how he had tried to stop Solas, how Solas, in his struggle tugging at the lyrium dagger, had let it go too far. The thought stung, reopening the old wounds that had never fully healed. He had hurt someone they both cared about. Had it been an accident, or had his obsession with his plan blinded him to everything else?

It was then she saw him. Solas stood at the edge of the platform, his presence powerful and untouchable like a distant star. His eyes caught hers with a knowing look, as though he had been expecting her all along. 

His strong stance wavered ever so slightly, a near imperceptible shift. Somehow, he was even more beautiful than she remembered. He was draped in dark leather armour that hugged his frame, his broad shoulders embellished with gold which decorated his chest as well. His face remained sharp and regal, though it now carried a colder edge. The weight of his millennia-old burden clung to him, as heavy as the Fade around them.

The sight of him sent a rush of warmth through her, but it was quickly swallowed by the bitter pang of nostalgia and regret, memories crashing over her like an ice cold wave. Lavellan’s voice faltered, the carefully rehearsed words slipping from her grasp, lost under the crushing gravity of his presence. For countless nights, she had imagined this moment—each conversation, every plea, practised over and over. But now, as he stood before her, all those thoughts scattered like dust, leaving her speechless.

“Solas.”

Her voice trembled with the only thing she could utter, a raw mix of anger and longing breaking free. Lavellan felt the years between them collapse. The sorrow, the love, the pain, and the anger—it all surged forward, overwhelming her in an instant.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Solas’ expression remained guarded, though the tension in his jaw and the weariness in his eyes betrayed him. His lips parted, as though he might speak, but the words died unspoken on his tongue. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken history.

Lavellan’s heart raced as she struggled to steady her breath, emotions crashing over her: love, anger, and grief all vying for control. She wanted to scream at him for the pain he'd caused—to her friends, to her. She wanted to demand answers, to weep for his loneliness, for how lost he had become. But she also longed to run into his arms, to hold him so tightly he could never leave again, to feel the warmth of his lips, to taste the love they once shared.

Across the distance, Solas silently soaked in the sight before him. Amidst the boundless darkness of his prison, his heart stood before him once more. A dull ache crawled from his chest into his throat as he noticed how time had touched her. Soft lines had etched themselves across her skin—subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone but him. She looked exhausted, as though the years had been heavy, yet her beauty had not faded. Her eyes still held the same fire, the same brightness that had captivated him. 

His gaze fell to her arm, the gleam of metal catching his eye—her prosthetic. The sight of it twisted his heart into a deep, bitter knot of guilt. She had lost her arm because of choices he had made. Though removing it would save her from an untimely end, her connection to the Anchor would have consumed her had the arm remained. However, that knowledge offered little comfort. 

It was because of him. she had been marked in the first place, that she had been forced to bear that burden, to lose part of herself for a cause that had never truly been hers to fight. He carefully swallowed the pain in his throat in an attempt to mask the surge of sorrow that threatened to break through.

For a heartbeat, the distance between them seemed insurmountable and never ending. Yet the connection they had forged so long ago, deep and unshakable, remained—like a tether drawing them together even now. 

Solas shifted subtly, searching the depths of his mind for words that could bridge the chasm of time and pain between them. No words could repair the damage that had been done, not a single syllable could undo the devastation he had caused.

“Vhenan…” he whispered at last, his voice rough, heavy with all the things left unsaid. It was the only word he could manage, the only truth left to him, spoken as though it held within it all his love and regret. The word hung in the air like a fragile promise.

The harsh and unforgiving hand of grief gripped Lavellan’s heart at the sound of his endearment. It had been so long since she had heard the word leave his lips, and yet it was the same—soft, full of meaning. She placed one foot in front of the other, taking a tentative step forward, her fingers brushing against the jawbone necklace, grounding her in the reality of the moment. The memory of their love flooded her, the fluttering which overwhelmed her belly when he would call her his heart, mingling with the anger that still smouldered in her chest.

“What have you done, Solas?” Her voice cracked through her cutting words, the accusation spilling through her lips before she could bite her tongue. “You stopped coming to me. You were…tearing the Veil apart, and then Varric—” She swallowed hard, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “You didn’t stop. You hurt him, and now… the false gods are free and ready to destroy this world.”

Her words were sharp, biting, but beneath the anger was the raw, unspoken truth: she loved him. She always had. And seeing her proud, cunning love like this—trapped in the cage of his own creation—cut deeper than any wound she had ever known.

Solas’ eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his head bowing beneath the shameful weight of her words. When his eyes found her again, there was a subtle flicker in his gaze—something raw and aching, a depth of emotion she couldn’t quite define. Regret, perhaps, or something far more tangled and broken. 

“It was not supposed to happen this way,” he murmured, voice thin and weary, as if even the admission pained him, the words almost too heavy to continue. “I had a plan. The ritual, I was moving them to another prison. But Varric interfered, he disrupted a dangerous ritual. I did not intend for him to get hurt.”

The flame in Lavellan’s eyes blazed with fury, her voice trembling as the words tumbled out without a second thought. "Varric was our friend, Solas. You’ve gone too far. He wasn’t aware of your intentions. He tried to stop you, tried to make you see reason, and you—" She faltered, the pain caught in her throat reducing her voice to a weak whisper. 

Though Varric still lived, his fate was uncertain, the magic from the lyrium-infused dagger weaving through his veins unpredictably. Her dear friend had only wanted to help—and yet, he had paid the painful price for it. 

The hardened resolve in Solas’ eyes wavered, his brow furrowing with the slightest shake of his head. “I’m sorry,” he uttered, the words quiet, but laden with everything left unspoken. 

“That’s all you have to offer? After everything that’s happened? After all this time?” Lavellan’s words sliced through the air, her voice was low yet biting. Her fingers curled in, hands tense at her sides as her frustration simmered just beneath the surface. 

She was torn between the depth of her love and the hot flame of her anger. She had missed him so achingly—every day without him was a quiet torment—but now, seeing him like this, the one she’d loved so fiercely, all she could feel was the cold sting of his absence, the ache of betrayal. He had left her, and worse, he had hurt Varric in his reckless pursuit. 

And now, after everything he had done, he stood there with regret etched into his sharp features, yet offering nothing more than a simple apology. She could see the remorse in his eyes, he meant it, but it wasn’t enough—not after everything. She longed to reach out to him, to close the distance between them, but the wound was too fresh, too raw. How could she bridge the gap when all he had to offer were those meagre words?

“Nothing can change what I have already done,” Solas sighed, the sound long and weary, as though carrying the burden of centuries. 

“I know,” she replied, her voice trembling with the heaviness of her admission. “You can’t undo what’s been done… but you can still do better. You can still choose differently.”

Solas studied her, his expression unreadable for a moment, though the gravity of her words seemed to hang between them. "Better choices do not erase what has already been set in motion," he spoke quietly, his tone almost resigned, as though he carried the inevitability of his fate like a burden.

“So what, you'll just let the world fall apart because it's already in motion? You think destroying this world will somehow lead to salvation?” Lavellan began, her voice cold and cutting. Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching as she took a hard step forward. “The elven people you’re trying to save? There’ll be nothing left for them if you don’t help us stop this madness now.” 

Her words hit him like a sudden gust, rattling the walls he had built around himself. For a moment, his defences collapsed under the truth of her words. But then, almost instinctively, he pulled them back up, his expression hardening as his gaze held hers.

”'Did you come only to scold me, Vhenan? Or is there more you wish to say?”

Lavellan’s breath quickened at his response, the fire in her eyes dimming for just a moment as his question hung in the air. The silence between the two stretched, filled with all the things that had never been said, all the pain, all the longing in their time apart. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, struggling to speak past the heaviness of her own heart. 

"There is plenty I wish to say. But in truth, I came because—" She managed to murmur, the words catching in her throat. Her feet moved before her mind could stop them, stepping slowly towards Solas. "Because I was worried about you. Because I wanted to see you." Her voice was raw, as if speaking the truth aloud burned at her tongue. "Because…even after everything I—"

Solas’ head tilted ever so slightly, his expression softening as his furrowed brows relaxed, and for a fleeting second, something in him seemed to break. The unspoken bond between them, ever-present and undeniable, pulled at him once more. He reached out, almost as if drawn by the force of her words, but stopped himself just short.

He wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him and never let her go again. To let every thought spill from his lips and confess his love for her as if it were the first time. The warmth of her presence was only growing closer as she stepped further in his direction, her beautifully intoxicating scent stirring memories of their past together. He craved her fiercely—the softness of her lips, the feel of her smooth skin beneath his fingertips, her lovely voice whispering words of love that echoed in his heart.

But the shrinking space between them felt like a chasm born not only of time, but of all the hurt and chaos he had left in his wake. He didn’t deserve her. Not after his failure. Not after what he had done.  He couldn't bear to drag her into the darkness of his journey, a path that he believed would only lead to death. She deserved so much more than the ruins of his mistakes. 

He imagined the weight of his choices suffocating her, dimming the light that had always drawn him in. Yet as she drew nearer, he could feel the pull of her more acutely, as though the Fade itself conspired to draw them together. The ache of her absence, the torment of his own regret—none of it could dampen the magnetic force that still lingered between them.

"You should hate me," he spoke quietly, his voice barely more than a breath. "After everything I’ve done. All of the pain I have caused."

Lavellan had closed the never-ending distance between them, the air around them thick with an intensity that took her breath away. Her already racing heart quickened, emboldened by a sudden rush, a defiance against the pain that had lingered for far too long. With a trembling hand, she reached for him, her fingertips brushing against his cheek. The connection was electric, sending shivers through her, reigniting a fire that warmed her very core.

In that moment, all his carefully constructed walls began to crumble, melting away beneath her touch. She could see the tension in his shoulders ease, the weight of his regrets momentarily lifting. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, a fragile intimacy that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

It had been years since they last stood face-to-face, their encounters reduced to her lone whispers in her dreams. Each night, she yearned for the warmth of his presence, the comfort of his touch, imagining the feel of his skin against hers, the sound of his voice calling her name. The ache of separation had clawed at her heart, and she knew he had felt it too—a longing that transcended the boundaries of their worlds. 

"I tried," she confessed, her voice heavy with emotion, barely above a whisper. "I tried to hate you, but I can’t, Vhenan. I could never."

Solas’ resolve crumbled even further, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes undeniable. “I never wanted you to see what I’ve become. I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he pushed further in a weak attempt to suppress the overpowering love that threatened to consume him. 

“I know you cannot change what you have done,” She began through her breath, gently placing her prosthetic hand against his armoured chest and meeting his eyes directly, as though reaching into the depths of his heart. “But I see you, Solas. I see the burden you carry, I’ve seen what you hide in your Lighthouse. It hasn’t changed the way I feel about you.”

Her touch unravelled him completely, cutting through the barriers he had so meticulously built to keep her at a distance and protect her. For all the power that pulsed within him, he was utterly powerless before her. His breath was hitched in his throat, his senses overwhelmed and intoxicated by her nearness. All words escaped him, and instead, he clutched her prosthetic hand to his chest, his knuckles brushing the delicate skin of her cheek, drinking in the moment as if it were the last.

The space between the two vanished, the long-forgotten warmth of each other’s touch easing the ache of a lifetime apart. Starved of the love they had once shared, the air around them grew heavy with anticipation. The energy between them hummed, drawing them closer with each breath, until their eyes flitted shut, surrendering to the inevitable pull of their connection.

“Vhenan…” Solas found his voice once more, before the thread which held him together finally snapped and his lips found hers.

The kiss, at first tentative, quickly deepened as the years of distance, longing, and unspoken words melted between them. It wasn’t gentle; it was desperate, filled with the ache of years apart, with the pain of betrayal and the hope of forgiveness. Lavellan’s hands instinctively reached for him, fingers curling against the cool, textured surface of his armour as if he might slip away again, as if this moment might vanish like a fleeting dream. His hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer still, like a drowning man grasping for air.

Solas trembled against her, the control he had so precisely maintained for years finally unravelling in her embrace. Every heartbeat, every breath shared in their kiss spoke of the time they had lost and the memories they had clung to in the dark. 

He clutched at her waist, tugging her impossibly close, as though she might disappear if he allowed any distance open between them. The taste of her lips—familiar and sweet—sent a rush of emotion surging through his mouth and into his heart, blooming with love. It was a taste he had dreamed of, mixed with grief, regret, and the bittersweet recognition of all the time they could never reclaim.

For Lavellan, kissing him felt like breaking the surface after endless years submerged in sorrow. She had imagined this reunion, longed for it in her loneliest moments, but nothing could have prepared her for the rawness of it now, the intensity of feeling his warmth, his breath, after so long. Her lips moved fervently against his, as if she could anchor them both in the present, as if this kiss could hold them together while the world threatened to crumble around them.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into eternity as their spirits reached for one another, desperate to bridge the chasm of all that had been lost. The air around them shimmered with the intensity of their emotions, the soft crackle of magic lingering like static electricity. Tears mingled between their lips, and Lavellan found herself unsure if they were born from her own heartache or Solas’ sorrow. 

When at last they reluctantly parted, it was only enough to breathe, their foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the narrow space between them. The warmth of Solas’ skin contrasted with the coolness of the Fade around them. His fingers brushed her cheek, wiping away a tear, his eyes searching hers with a mix of reverence and sorrow, as if committing her face to memory all over again.

“I have missed you,” Solas admitted through a trembling breath, his voice fraying at the edges, each syllable thick with longing and vulnerability. “Every moment, I have missed you.”

Lavellan’s heart stilled at his confession, the pain she’d carried for so long softening, giving way to a quiet joy she had scarcely dared to feel. It was real—his yearning, his regret. He had missed her, and in hearing those words, a wave of warmth rushed through her, filling the hollow space his absence had left behind, like sunlight breaking through a dark, heavy cloud.

“As have I,” she whispered, her voice a breath, an ache. “I love you, Solas.”

The distance between them vanished once more as she closed the space with her lips. An electric tangle of desperation and love crackled in the air, as if they could pour every stolen moment of the past ten years into this one kiss. She breathed the words against his lips— Ar lath ma. I love you, I love you, over and over, with each fleeting pause for air. One hand gripped his broad shoulder as though holding onto the thread of the life they might still have together, while the other skimmed gingerly across his sharp jaw, the cool metal of her fingertips shooting a shiver down his spine.

As their lips moved together, she tasted the faint remnants of the Fade on him—like the bittersweet tang of twilight and the warmth of embers long extinguished. The air was thick with unspoken promises, Solas’ scent enveloping her, an earthy blend of ancient forests, fragrant herbs, and a whisper of magic that felt both familiar and achingly distant. Her heart raced, a wild drum echoing in her ears, as she felt the world around them fade into insignificance. In that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of them, entwined in a dance of love and longing, the taste of their shared past lingering sweetly on their tongues.

Solas drew a tight breath, his lips forming the words in return, “Ar lath ma, I love you,” each confession fragile and tender, as if speaking it aloud made the moment more real. His hands cupped her face with reverence, fingers tracing the contours of her skin as if rediscovering her all over again, as though he needed to believe this wasn’t some fading dream. She was truly here with him, loving him still, despite all that had come between them. And with each kiss, each murmured promise of love, he felt the final crumbling of the walls he had built to protect himself from this—this undeniable truth that she saw him, truly, as he was: Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. And still, she chose him—Solas.

Warm, fresh tears streamed down his cheeks—tears of relief, not of sorrow, and for the first time in an age, he felt lighter, the burden of millennia softening in her embrace. 

Lavellan’s fingers traced the familiar lines of his face, feeling the tension in his jaw slowly release. She caught her breath, pressing her forehead gently to his once more, letting the moment wrap around them like a fragile cocoon, holding them together.

They no longer needed words. There was no need for promises, no talk of what came next.

For now, they were simply here—together.

Solas’ hands held her tightly against him, as if memorising every curve of her, grounding himself in her presence, in the warmth of her body pressed to his. He drank in every bit of her, enraptured by the way her eyes sparkled with the tears she had shed. There was no one more beautiful, in body and spirit.

The world beyond them faded into the abyss—no ancient gods, no torn Veil, no crumbling ruins. Just the rhythmic sound of their breaths mingling between them, the quiet beat of their hearts within their chests, steady and sure. For so long, he had dreamed of this, and yet the reality of it was more than he could have ever imagined.

Lavellan clutched him closer, as if to say all the things she couldn’t form with her lips, as if to tell him that here, in this moment, she chose him—not Fen’Harel, not the Dread Wolf. Just Solas.

And as they stayed there, lost in each other, neither knew how long the moment would last—only that, for now, it was enough.

[peachdues]

THE DIVINING ROD — PROLOGUE

Obanai’s Tell Me to Stop

A/N: the prologue to Obanai’s installment of Tell Me to Stop, first teased here.

CW: canon setting AU • Reader is the Vine Pillar • blood • angst • scars • mentions of past torture • panic • this fic will be HELLA NSFW so MDNI

From the first day he drew his sword, Obanai Iguro knew life within the Demon Slayer Corps meant accepting two, twin truths.

The first was this: a career as a swordsman of the Corps means one’s life expectancy is cut drastically short. Few make it to adulthood; even fewer to retirement.

The second truth is that your time within the Corps is marked by one or two events: either you live to see another day, or you do not. There is no in between; it is either life or death, and more often than not, the Slayers themselves do not have the luxury of choosing between the two. That choice is finite and there is no gray. Members of the Demon Slayer Corps do not go missing; either they are torn apart and devoured by the very monsters they fight, or they live to see the next sunrise, only to await nightfall once more and thrust their lives back into the fickle, shifty hands of fate.

No slayer is spared that perilous dance, no matter their rank. Mizunotos and Hashira alike all know that their tether to the world they’re trying to save is little more than a fraying thread which grows more tenuous by the day, with every battle won at the expense of the lives lost.

The crows; it is the crows, the harbingers of both victory and death, who keep them apprised of their numbers. Slayers do not go missing; they are either dead or they are not. If there is nothing left of a Slayer to bury, their crow will say as much, and they will still get a headstone in the Master’s ever-growing graveyard. The crows always return, even when their assigned masters do not. It is the expectation; a given.

There is no protocol in the event neither Slayer nor crow returns, and it is that absence which blows a gaping, jagged hole right through Obanai’s understanding of his nature not just as a Hashira, but his very existence as a swordsman.

Because the Vine Pillar has vanished and there is no trace of either her or her bird to be found. There is no frantic, bleating announcement that she’s fallen at the hands of some formidable foe, no mournful sobs of the Kakushi as they solemnly carry a box bearing whatever of her remained to be buried with her brothers and sisters in death.

There was only silence; thick, oppressive, loud silence that is punctuated by the conspicuous gap in the lineup of Pillars gathered for an emergency meeting at Headquarters.

The air between the Sound and Insect Pillars is still; a tear in the fabric of reality, pulled back to reveal that something is wrong, something is out of place.

Something is missing.

Obanai cannot stop staring at it; that space between Kocho and Uzui, the utter absence of matter that should form that familiar face, that signature haori, everything that makes up her and her warmth and her comfort.

Everything he cherishes.

“Then she is dead,” Uzui declares once the Master’s children finish explaining their summoning.

“We don’t know for certain,” a soft voice, feminine and evocative of that which is distinctly pink, rises above their heads at the opposite end of their line. “Missions often take weeks, and she may simply be unable to answer —,”

“No one has seen or heard from her in weeks, nor has there been any sight of her crow.” The Sound Pillar challenges, though not unkindly. He is familiar with the friendship between the Vine and Love Pillars, and he does his best to deliver the blow as painlessly as he can. “Even Y/L/N would not ignore an emergency summons from headquarters, no matter how deep in her mission she might have been.”

Obanai is still staring at the void between his comrades where she should be, but Uzui’s words make his fists clench, the skin of his knuckles white. Beside him, the Wind Pillar shifts, sensing his growing agitation.

His panic.

Though he is inclined to voice his agreement with the pinkette at the end of their formation, Serpent Pillar does not speak. He cannot; not while he is busy retracing the last weeks in his mind, mentally calculating how much time would have passed between that night and the mission she did not return from, and whether there was a chance it was different from the one that haunted his every waking moment.

“Where was she assigned?” Rengoku’s voice was strong and commanding as ever, though if he listened hard enough, Obanai could discern the faintest tremble as the Flame Pillar, too, worried after his absent friend.

“A fishing village in the east.” One of the Master’s twins answers, and it feels like an accusation only he can hear, as Obanai feels the very ground beneath his feet break apart and open wide.

How he wishes the oblivion below the earth would swallow him up.

“She’s dead.” Uzui repeats, his head bowing solemnly.

“She’s not,” both the Love and Flame Pillars insist in unison.

Wide, anxious green eyes peer over the heads of their comrades at him, and Obanai can feel how they burn into his head, beseeching him to say something, anything, but he does not; cannot.

The Master’s pristine garden falls away, as does the rising bickering of the other pillars as they debate the merits of a search and rescue operation; whether they have the numbers or time to spare it any consideration. Whatever they decide, it is without the Serpent Pillar’s vote, because he cannot hear them over the roaring in his ears; the new truth he is forced to bear.

That truism is this: the Vine Pillar is missing.

And it is entirely his fault.