#I'm running out of space to type oop

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1854 - could it be love?

chapter summary: You meet Logan, a young man who is briefly stopping by in New York City. Despite both of your better judgments, you quickly realize that perhaps there's nothing wrong with falling in love.

word count: 22.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: ahh!! welcome to this new series! i'm very excited to start this journey with all of y'all! just a note, when i say 'character death(s)' in the warnings it means that reader is going to die at the end of every chapter. that's the entire premise of this series, which was inspired by the 11th doctor and clara (iykyk). but first, we have a lot of time to cover before we even reach the first x-men movie so strap in!

i also didn't mean for this to be as long as it is, oops

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, slow burn, illness, character deaths

series masterlist → chapter 2

You didn’t necessarily love your job, but it was better than other options available for you. You grumbled to yourself as you walked down the sidewalk of New York City, horses neighing and wheels rattling on the brick street.

The bonnet on your head protected you from the sun beating down, keeping you from further heat in your dress. You had many things to do while you were out, get the children some new clothes and toys, buy some groceries, and buy some extra cloth for when you eventually had to sew their clothing.

As you passed by a small shop, you paused, peering in through the window. A few wooden toys sat on the shelf inside, simple and sturdy. Perfect for the boys. You pushed the door open, a little bell jingling as you entered, and you made your way toward the display.

"Can I help you, miss?" The shopkeeper’s voice startled you, but you smiled politely.

"Just looking for some toys," you replied, eyes scanning the shelves.

As you picked up a carved wooden horse, the door opened again behind you, letting in a bit of fresh air and a man’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t pay it much mind until you felt a presence nearby, a little too close for comfort. You turned slightly, catching sight of a tall man with dark hair and an unshaven face, dressed in a rough shirt and worn pants, a bit out of place among the polished streets of the city.

He glanced your way, his sharp eyes catching yours for a brief moment before he looked back to the shelves.

Something about him felt different—dangerous, but not in the way that made you want to run. More like it pulled you in, made you curious.

You turned back to the toys, but your mind kept wandering back to the stranger standing nearby. You couldn’t help but glance his way again.

"Those are good for little ones," the man said, his voice rough but casual. He nodded at the toy horse in your hand. "They hold up well. Tougher than they look."

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden comment. "You have experience with them?"

His lips twitched, almost a smile. "A bit. Used to make ‘em myself."

You looked him over more closely now, intrigued. "You don’t seem like the toy-making type."

His eyes flicked to yours, something amused in the way he looked at you. "Not anymore," he said, then turned his attention back to the shelves.

There was a silence between you for a moment, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it felt like he didn’t mind you being there, like he was used to people drifting in and out of his space.

You finally spoke again. "I suppose these are sturdy enough for two boys, then."

"Yeah. They’ll survive a beating."

You laughed, the sound surprising you. He gave you another look, a bit more interested this time. There was something about him that made you feel seen in a way that was different from how most men looked at you.

You gathered a few more toys, careful not to spend too much, but you couldn’t resist getting something extra for the little girl you looked after. She was sweet, and it wasn’t her fault she was stuck in such a strict household.

The stranger watched you with those sharp eyes, like he could see more than what was right in front of him. You wondered what his story was, but you weren’t about to ask.

As you headed to the counter, he followed, though he didn’t buy anything. The shopkeeper took your coins, and you gathered your parcels, still feeling the man’s presence behind you.

"Thanks for the advice," you said over your shoulder, more as a courtesy than anything else.

He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."

With that, you left the shop, stepping back into the sunlight, the weight of your errands still on your shoulders. But as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe that wasn’t the last time you’d see him.

---

Edwin and Phillip seemed to enjoy the toy you got them, already fighting over who gets to play with it first. They were the eldest, Edwin was 9, Phillip was 7, and Ada was 6. You handed her the toy you got for her, one she got to keep all to herself.

Ada's face lit up when you handed her the small, carved doll. She held it in her hands gently, like it was the most precious thing in the world.

"For me?" she asked, her voice soft with disbelief.

You smiled and nodded. "Just for you, Ada."

Her eyes sparkled, and she hugged the doll to her chest. "Thank you!"

Edwin and Phillip were already in the middle of their tug-of-war with the wooden horse, the two boys shouting over whose turn it was.

"I had it first!" Edwin argued, pulling the toy toward him.

"You always get it first!" Phillip shot back, his voice growing louder.

You sighed and stepped in, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Why don't you take turns? If you can't share, I'll have to take it away, and no one gets to play with it."

They both groaned but reluctantly agreed, setting the horse on the floor. Edwin was a bit of a handful, but he could be sweet when he wanted to be. Phillip, the quieter one, usually followed his brother’s lead. At least Ada wasn’t much trouble.

After helping Ada settle in with her new toy, you turned to check on the boys, making sure they hadn’t already forgotten your words. But as you did, your thoughts drifted back to the man in the shop. There was something about him—something that lingered in your mind even now. He didn’t fit in with the usual crowd you saw around here, but he didn’t seem bothered by that.

It was odd, though, that someone like him would be in a toy shop of all places. You tried to shake the thought away, but it kept creeping back, a sense that your brief encounter meant more than it appeared.

Later, after the children had settled down, you found yourself with a rare quiet moment. You sat by the window, staring out at the street below, watching the people passing by. The day was winding down, the sky fading into hues of orange and pink, and yet, the man’s sharp eyes lingered in your mind.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for thinking too much about a stranger. It was just a passing moment—nothing more. You had far more important things to focus on, like taking care of the children and making sure everything ran smoothly for the household. That man, whoever he was, wasn’t part of your world.

But still, something in the back of your mind whispered that you’d see him again. And the thought of it didn’t exactly bother you.

---

The next few days were a blur of your usual routine. The children kept you busy, and you barely had a moment to yourself. But even as you went through the motions of your daily life, you couldn't help but feel that sense of something—or someone—waiting.

It was on a brisk afternoon, a few days after your encounter at the shop, when you found yourself running errands again. The streets were busier than usual, with carriages clattering over the cobblestones and people bustling past in a hurry. You had a long list of things to pick up, and the thought of weaving through the crowded market already had you dreading the trip.

As you made your way through the streets, you spotted a familiar figure standing at the corner near a fruit stand. The man from the shop. He hadn’t seen you yet, but something about the way he stood, slightly apart from the rest of the crowd, watching the passersby with a quiet intensity, made you pause.

You debated for a moment. Should you approach him? Or would it seem too forward?

Before you could decide, his gaze lifted, and he spotted you. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, watching you.

You took a deep breath and made your way over, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Fancy seeing you here again," you said, trying to sound casual as you approached.

"Didn’t expect to run into you either," he replied, his voice still rough, but there was a hint of something in his tone. Amusement? Interest? You couldn’t quite place it.

"I was just running errands," you said, gesturing to the market behind you. "You know how it is."

He nodded, his eyes flicking over you for a moment before landing back on the crowd. "Yeah, I get it."

There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it almost felt... familiar. Like talking to him wasn’t so strange after all.

"Are you from around here?" you asked, breaking the silence.

He shook his head. "Not really. Just passing through."

"Do you always pass through toy shops when you're in town?"

His lips quirked into that almost-smile again. "Only when I feel like it."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "Mysterious, aren’t you?"

He shrugged, not giving much away. "Maybe."

You were about to ask him something else when a shout came from behind you. You turned to see one of the street vendors, an older man, calling out angrily at a young boy who had clearly tried to swipe an apple from his cart.

Before you could even react, the man next to you stepped forward. His movements were quick and fluid, like he was used to handling situations like this. He reached the boy before the vendor could get too close, gripping the kid by the collar.

"Hey," the man said, his voice low but firm. "That’s not how you do things."

The boy froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting to be caught so quickly.

"Put it back," the man ordered.

The boy, trembling slightly, dropped the apple back onto the cart. "I’m sorry!" he blurted out before scurrying off into the crowd.

You watched as the man exchanged a few words with the vendor, calming him down before he turned back to you, his expression unreadable.

"You didn’t have to do that," you said, surprised by how quickly he had handled the situation.

He shrugged again. "The kid’ll learn his lesson. Better this way than the other options."

You looked at him, a little more curious now. He wasn’t just some rough-around-the-edges stranger. There was something deeper to him, something that made you want to know more.

“I don’t think I caught your name the other day,” you settled on, meeting his eyes as the energy of the crowd buzzed around you both.

He gave a small nod, like he was considering whether to answer or not. "Logan," he said simply.

"Logan," you repeated, trying the name on your tongue. It suited him, rough around the edges but solid. "I’m Y/N."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave another slight nod, acknowledging it. The silence between you wasn’t heavy, but it felt like something unspoken passed through the space. Something that told you he wasn’t just another passerby in your life.

"Thanks for helping that kid back there," you said, breaking the quiet. "Not everyone would step in like that."

Logan shrugged like it was nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd again. "Not a big deal."

You tilted your head slightly, studying him. "You do that a lot? Play the hero?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, barely there, but it was enough. "No. Just don't like seeing people get hurt when I can do something about it."

There was a gruffness to his words, but it didn’t feel forced. It felt real. And it was clear that he wasn’t the type to go around explaining himself to anyone. You liked that.

"Well, either way, it was good of you." You glanced down at the parcels in your arms, suddenly remembering the rest of your errands. "I should probably get going, before I’m late getting back."

Logan gave you a small nod, his eyes flicking down to your parcels. "You take care."

You hesitated, a part of you not wanting to walk away just yet. But what could you say? You didn’t know this man, not really, and yet you felt drawn to him in a way that was hard to explain. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, like he had been through more than he let on. Or maybe it was the quiet strength in him that made you feel oddly safe.

"Maybe I’ll see you around?" you offered, not wanting to make the goodbye feel so final.

Logan’s eyes met yours again, and for a moment, there was something softer in his gaze. "Yeah. Maybe."

With that, you gave him a small smile and turned to leave, weaving your way through the bustling street. As you walked, you couldn’t help but glance back once, just to see if he was still there. He was, standing where you left him, watching you go.

---

The following days fell back into your usual routine—taking care of the children, running errands, keeping the household in order. Yet, no matter how busy you were, your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan. Something about him lingered in your mind, and it wasn’t just because he had helped out that kid. There was something deeper, something you couldn’t quite shake.

You found yourself wondering if he really was just passing through, or if there was more to his story than he was letting on. You didn’t know why it mattered so much, but it did.

One afternoon, as you were helping Ada tie the ribbon on her new dress, she looked up at you with her big, curious eyes.

"Y/N, are you thinking about something?" she asked innocently.

You blinked, surprised. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you’re smiling," she said, her voice soft and sweet.

You hadn’t even realized. "Oh," you said, chuckling softly. "I guess I was just lost in thought."

Ada giggled, her small hands playing with the ribbon you had just tied. "You think about a lot of things."

"That’s because I have to keep track of all you rascals," you teased, tickling her side gently.

She squealed in delight, wriggling away from you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. But as you settled back into the moment, that same thought returned, uninvited. Logan. Would you see him again?

---

It wasn’t long before the answer came.

You were out in the market again, picking up some fresh bread for dinner. The smell of the bakery wafted through the air, warm and comforting. You had just handed over your coins to the baker when you felt that familiar presence—something just outside the edge of your awareness, like a shadow that suddenly moved.

Turning slightly, your eyes caught sight of Logan standing near a fruit cart, his hands in his pockets, watching you. It wasn’t a surprise this time, but your heart still gave a little flutter at the sight of him. You made your way over, the crowd parting as you walked.

"Logan," you greeted, a smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

"Y/N," he replied, nodding in acknowledgment. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something almost... pleased in his eyes. Like he had expected you to come over.

"Still passing through?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He glanced around the busy street before answering. "Seems like I’ve been here longer than I planned."

"Any reason for that?" you asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.

Logan looked at you for a long moment, like he was debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "No reason."

You didn’t believe him for a second, but you let it go. Instead, you gestured to the bread in your basket. "If you’re still around tomorrow, you should come by the park. I take the children there sometimes in the afternoons. It’s quieter than here."

Logan’s eyes flicked to yours, considering. "Maybe I will."

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction from his answer. It was small, but it was something.

"Well," you said, shifting the basket on your arm. "I should get back before the boys tear the house down."

Logan smirked at that, and you felt a warmth spread through you at the sight of it. He wasn’t a man who smiled easily, but when he did, it felt like a reward.

"Take care," he said, his voice low and steady, and you couldn’t help but notice how those words made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t expected.

As you walked away, the warmth of his gaze stayed with you, lingering long after you’d turned the corner.

---

The next day, you found yourself at the park, just as you had promised. Edwin and Phillip were racing around, laughing as they chased each other, while Ada sat quietly by your side, her doll clutched in her hands.

You tried not to look around for Logan, but you couldn’t help it. Every time someone passed by, your heart gave a little jump, only to settle back down when you realized it wasn’t him.

Just as you were beginning to think he wouldn’t show, you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

"Mind if I join you?" Logan’s voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you smile.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. "Not at all."

Logan gave a nod, lowering himself onto the bench beside you. He stretched his long legs out, looking completely at ease. The sounds of the children’s laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you just sat in companionable silence.

“Boys giving you trouble?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“They always do,” you replied, watching as Edwin tackled Phillip to the ground. “But I think they’d explode if they didn’t.”

Logan’s lips twitched at that—almost a smile. “Kids’ll do that. Got too much energy.”

You tilted your head, studying him out of the corner of your eye. “You got siblings?”

Logan paused for a second, like the question had caught him off guard. “Yeah. A brother.”

You didn’t press, sensing there was more to the story but knowing better than to pry. Instead, you turned your attention back to the children.

“Do you have any?” Logan asked, nodding toward the boys.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I look after them for the family I work for. They keep me busy, though. Might as well be mine.”

He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment, resting his elbows on his knees.

“And her?” Logan nodded toward Ada, who sat a little apart from the boys, her doll tucked protectively in her arms.

“That’s Ada,” you said, smiling softly. “She’s the quiet one. A little sweet thing, really.”

“She’s got good taste,” Logan remarked, glancing at the doll in her hands.

You chuckled. “That was the least I could do for her. Life’s not exactly fun in that house.”

Logan’s gaze flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “It never is.”

You frowned, catching the weight behind his words, but before you could ask what he meant, Ada wandered over to you. She gave Logan a curious glance but stayed close by your side.

“Who’s he?” Ada whispered, gripping your sleeve.

You smiled. “This is Logan. He’s a friend.”

Logan gave her a small nod, and Ada, ever cautious, just stared at him with wide eyes. After a beat, she leaned in close to you and whispered, “He looks like a bear.”

You tried—really tried—not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway. Logan gave a low chuckle of his own, shaking his head slightly.

“Smart kid,” he murmured.

Ada, encouraged by your laughter, gave a shy smile. Then she wandered back toward the boys, apparently satisfied with Logan’s presence.

“She’s got you figured out,” you teased, grinning.

Logan’s expression softened just a bit, and he gave a small shrug. “Kids see things plain.”

You leaned back on the bench, letting yourself relax. It was strange, how easy it felt to be around him. You didn’t know much about him—hardly anything, really—but something about Logan made you feel like you didn’t need to fill the silence with useless conversation.

“Do you ever stop moving?” you asked suddenly, curious. “You said you were just passing through, but it seems like you’ve stayed a bit longer.”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the park, his expression thoughtful.

“Sometimes,” he said finally. “Not often, though.”

“That sounds lonely.”

His jaw twitched slightly, and he turned his head to look at you. “You get used to it.”

You held his gaze for a moment, sensing that there was more beneath the surface than he was letting on. But instead of prying, you just nodded, accepting his words for what they were.

“Well, if you ever feel like staying in one place for a bit, you know where to find me,” you said lightly.

Logan’s eyes flickered with something—something you couldn’t quite name—but he gave a small nod, like he was filing that thought away.

“Appreciate it,” he murmured.

Before you could say more, Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, out of breath and covered in dirt.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Edwin shouted. “Phillip said he could run faster than me, but I totally won!”

Phillip scowled, wiping mud off his cheek. “Only because you pushed me.”

“You pushed him?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at Edwin.

Edwin squirmed. “Not that hard.”

Logan snorted quietly, drawing both boys’ attention. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes.

“Who’s that?” Edwin whispered loudly, leaning closer to you.

“That’s Logan,” you said. “He’s a friend.”

Edwin tilted his head, squinting up at Logan. “You look tough.”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I get that a lot.”

“Can you fight?” Edwin asked eagerly, his eyes lighting up. “Like—like really fight?”

“Edwin!” you scolded, but Logan just gave a small chuckle.

“Yeah,” Logan said. “A bit.”

“Whoa!” Edwin’s jaw dropped, clearly impressed. Phillip, more cautious, stayed quiet but kept his eyes on Logan like he was trying to figure him out.

“Alright, enough of that,” you said, gently ushering the boys away. “Go play before I make you help with dinner.”

Edwin groaned but dragged Phillip along, the two of them running back toward the trees.

You glanced at Logan, shaking your head. “You’ve got yourself some new fans, it seems.”

Logan huffed softly. “Kids are alright.”

There was a pause, and then you asked quietly, “You really do keep moving, don’t you?”

Logan looked at you, his expression serious. “Yeah.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. There was something in his eyes that told you he’d seen more than most—more than you could probably imagine.

“Well,” you said softly, “if you ever get tired of running, you know where to find me.”

Logan held your gaze for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

---

You saw Logan more often than not. Truth be told, you enjoyed his presence. He was different than the other men you had met, not as harsh, didn’t look down on you, or see you as an object.

One day, while walking around the market with a small basket, filled with a few apples and some bread, you looked at a carriage, rolling along the brick road with a horse in front.

“I never learned how to ride a horse,” you said, glancing at the carriage as it rolled along the cobblestone street. The words came out before you even knew why you said them, maybe just filling the space between you and Logan.

Logan, walking beside you, gave you a sidelong glance. The faintest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “That right?”

You shrugged, shifting the basket in your hand. “Never had a reason to, I suppose. And it’s not exactly something you pick up living in the city.”

He made a low noise in his throat that could have been agreement. For a moment, the two of you walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the market buzzing around you—vendors calling out, the clip-clop of hooves, the soft rustle of autumn leaves underfoot.

“Wouldn’t take much to learn,” Logan said finally, his voice easy. “Reckon you’d be good at it.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “How would you know?”

Logan gave a lazy shrug. “Just a guess.”

There was something in his tone, though—something soft and amused that made your cheeks warm. You glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a stall selling ribbons, though your attention kept drifting back to Logan.

“You know how to ride, then?” you asked after a moment, keeping your tone casual.

He nodded. “Yeah. Picked it up when I was a kid.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “Where’d you grow up?”

“Here and there,” he answered vaguely, though not unkindly. You got the sense that there was a lot more to the story—things he wasn’t ready to share. And maybe things you weren’t quite ready to ask about. Not yet, anyway.

“Would you teach me?” you asked on impulse, surprising even yourself.

Logan glanced over, one brow raised, and for a moment, you thought he might laugh. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave a small nod, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Sure,” he said simply.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it.

“When?” you pressed, feeling strangely excited by the idea.

Logan thought for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the road ahead. “Next Sunday,” he decided. “There’s a place just outside the city. I know a guy who’s got a couple of good horses.”

You felt a flicker of doubt—after all, you had responsibilities, and it wasn’t as though you could just abandon the children for the day. But Logan must have noticed your hesitation because he gave you a reassuring look.

“Bring the kids,” he offered. “They can run wild while you learn.”

That made you laugh softly. “You really think I can keep up with them and learn to ride a horse?”

Logan’s lips twitched. “I’ll handle the boys if they get out of hand.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I’ve handled worse,” Logan said with a grin that made your stomach do an odd little flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but just then, a vendor called out, advertising fresh apples, and you were drawn toward the stall. Logan followed at a leisurely pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

You picked a couple of apples, inspecting them before adding them to your basket. As you handed a coin to the vendor, you glanced at Logan again.

“Next Sunday, then?” you asked, as if you still needed confirmation.

Logan gave a small nod. “Next Sunday.”

Something about the way he said it—calm and certain—made you believe it would actually happen. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something.

---

The boys were already running rampant in the large field, their shouts of laughter echoing across the open space. You could see Edwin trying to race Phillip again, their legs kicking up dirt as they charged back and forth. Ada, ever the quiet one, sat nearby on a stack of hay, her doll in her lap, watching them with a little smile on her face.

You stood near the horses, feeling a flutter of nervous energy in your stomach. Logan was beside you, calm as always, holding the reins of a chestnut mare with an ease that made it all look far simpler than you knew it was. He glanced over at you, his dark eyes catching yours, and you could see the trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, nodding toward the horse.

You swallowed, staring up at the mare. “Sure. How hard can it be?”

Logan gave a quiet laugh, clearly not convinced. “We’ll see.”

He held the reins steady, motioning for you to come closer. You did, taking a deep breath as you placed your hand on the saddle. The horse shifted slightly, and you jumped back a little, making Logan chuckle again.

“She’s not gonna bite,” he said, his voice low and amused.

“I know that,” you muttered, embarrassed but trying not to show it. “I just wasn’t ready.”

Logan gave a small shrug, stepping around to stand beside you. “C’mon. Foot in the stirrup. I’ll help you up.”

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. Grabbing hold of the saddle, you placed your foot in the stirrup just like he’d told you, and then you felt Logan’s hand on your waist, firm and steady. With one swift movement, he lifted you up onto the horse, and suddenly you were sitting much higher than you’d expected.

You gripped the reins tightly, your heart racing a little.

“There,” Logan said, standing back with his arms crossed. He looked up at you, giving a small nod of approval. “Not bad.”

You glanced down at him, a bit breathless. “I’m on the horse, but that doesn’t mean I can ride it.”

Logan smirked. “One step at a time, darlin’.”

He moved around to grab the reins, keeping his voice low and calm as he spoke to the mare, guiding her gently in a slow circle around the field. You held on, trying to keep yourself steady in the saddle. It wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be, but every time the horse took a step, you felt your stomach flip a little.

Logan kept walking beside you, close enough that you could hear him, though his voice was quiet. “You’re doin’ fine.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you muttered, glancing over at the boys to make sure they weren’t watching. Of course, they were, but they seemed more interested in their own games than in you wobbling around on a horse.

“You look fine,” Logan said, and there was something in his tone that made you glance at him sharply.

His eyes flickered up toward yours for just a moment, and you felt that familiar warmth in your cheeks again. You looked away quickly, trying to focus on staying upright.

“You’re just sayin’ that,” you said, trying to sound casual.

Logan chuckled. “No. If you looked ridiculous, I’d tell you.”

The confidence in his voice made you smile despite yourself. You loosened your grip on the reins just a little, letting yourself relax. The horse moved steadily beneath you, her pace slow and even, and after a few moments, you realized it wasn’t so bad after all.

“You ready to try it on your own?” Logan asked, his voice easy.

You blinked. “You think I’m ready?”

“Yeah.” He handed the reins over to you, stepping back a little. “Just keep her steady. She’s not gonna take off on you.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath and gripping the reins tightly as you urged the horse forward. She responded, moving into a gentle walk, and you felt a little thrill of pride. Logan walked beside you for a few more steps, watching, but then he stopped, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you guide the horse around the field on your own.

“You’re a natural,” he called out, a grin tugging at his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more confident now. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

As you circled back around toward him, you slowed the horse, bringing her to a stop in front of Logan. He looked up at you, his eyes warm and approving.

“Told ya,” he said. “Not so hard, is it?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not as hard as I thought.”

Logan reached up, taking the reins from your hands. “C’mon. Let’s get you down.”

This part felt a little trickier, but Logan was there, steadying you as you swung your leg over the saddle and slid down. His hands were firm on your waist again, and for just a moment, you were standing close enough to catch the scent of leather and something else—something distinctly Logan.

“Thanks,” you said softly, looking up at him.

Logan’s eyes held yours for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then he gave a small nod, stepping back.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice low.

Before you could say anything else, the boys came running over, breathless and wild from their playing. Edwin looked up at the horse, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Can I ride next?” he asked, practically bouncing on his toes.

You glanced at Logan, raising an eyebrow. “You said you’d handle them if they got out of hand, remember?”

Logan sighed, giving you a wry smile. “Yeah, I remember.”

He looked at Edwin, then nodded toward the horse. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As Logan helped Edwin onto the horse, you stepped back, watching with a small smile. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. You glanced at Ada, who was still sitting on the haystack, her doll in her arms, watching the scene with quiet interest.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let yourself enjoy moments like this.

As Logan guided Edwin around the field, you found yourself watching him more than the horse. There was something about the way he moved—strong, sure, like he belonged here, like he was more comfortable in this quiet, open space than anywhere else.

And as he turned, catching your eye for just a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d found something here worth staying for.

---

“You ever think about gettin’ outta the city?” Logan asked, his voice low. “Findin’ somewhere quieter?”

You glanced at him, a little surprised by the question. “I’ve thought about it. But… I’ve got responsibilities.”

Logan nodded slowly, his eyes distant as he stared out at the horizon. “Yeah. Responsibilities.”

The way he said it made you wonder if he was thinking about something—or someone—far away. You’d learned quickly that Logan wasn’t one to talk much about his past, and though you were curious, you didn’t push.

You turned a jar of honey over in your hand, Mr. Thomas had asked you to buy them another jar while you were out. “If I didn’t have responsibilities, I’d like to live out in a cabin, away from everything else. Sometimes things here are noisy. I’d just like to… I don’t know, exist without worryin’ about anything.”

Logan, standing beside you, his hands shoved in his pockets, gave a small grunt of agreement. "Sounds nice."

You glanced at him, curious. "You ever think about it? Leaving the city behind, finding a quiet spot somewhere?"

Logan paused for a moment, his gaze distant. "Yeah. Sometimes."

The simplicity of his answer hung in the air between you, and for a second, you wondered if he'd actually let himself think about settling down. It seemed unlikely, given how much he kept moving, but there was something in the way he said it, something almost wistful.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who stays in one place for too long," you teased, shifting the basket in your hand as you handed the vendor a coin for the honey.

Logan shrugged, a small smirk playing at his lips. "Guess not."

You both fell into a comfortable silence as you continued walking through the market. The streets bustled with people, but somehow, with Logan by your side, it all felt a little less overwhelming. You didn't have to fill the quiet with pointless chatter. He wasn’t like the others in the city—constantly rushing, looking for something to gain. He just… existed, like you wanted to.

As you passed by a small stall selling flowers, you slowed down, your eyes catching on a bouquet of wildflowers that reminded you of something you'd see out in the countryside. Logan noticed, his eyes following your gaze.

"You like those?" he asked, nodding toward the flowers.

You smiled softly. "Yeah. They remind me of… I don’t know, freedom, I guess."

Logan gave a small chuckle. "Freedom, huh?"

You shrugged, suddenly feeling a little silly. "I know it sounds strange. It’s just… being stuck in the city all the time, I don’t get to see much of the world outside these streets."

He didn’t laugh or brush it off like most people would have. Instead, Logan looked at you for a moment, his expression serious.

"Maybe one day," he said quietly, "you’ll get that cabin. Find some peace."

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart skip a beat, but before you could respond, a commotion erupted a few stalls down. Edwin and Phillip came barreling toward you, laughing and out of breath, their hands full of something they clearly weren’t supposed to have.

"Y/N!" Edwin shouted, holding up a small sack of apples. "Look what we got!"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "And how exactly did you 'get' those?"

Phillip, ever the quieter one, shifted nervously on his feet. "We didn’t steal them! Mr. Turner gave them to us after we helped him with his cart."

You glanced over to where Mr. Turner, a kind old man who often sold apples at the market, was smiling and waving in your direction.

"Alright," you said, sighing with relief. "But you’d better not be causing any trouble."

Logan chuckled under his breath, watching the boys with amusement. "They’re just having fun."

"Yeah, until someone gets hurt," you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile at their excitement.

Edwin, noticing Logan for the first time, grinned. "Hey, Logan! You ever been in a real fight?"

Logan smirked, glancing at you before turning back to the boys. "A couple."

Edwin’s eyes lit up. "Tell us about one!"

"Edwin," you warned, shaking your head. "Logan doesn’t have time to tell you all his stories."

But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He crouched down to the boys’ level, his expression serious as he spoke in that low, gravelly voice of his.

"Alright, but just one. There was this guy… big, tough-looking fella, thought he could take me down. We were out in the middle of nowhere, no one around for miles. He comes at me with this huge stick, thinking that’ll be enough."

Edwin and Phillip leaned in, wide-eyed, hanging on every word.

"So, what happened?" Edwin asked, barely able to contain himself.

Logan’s smirk deepened. "Let’s just say, he learned real quick not to mess with me."

The boys erupted into laughter, completely captivated by the idea of Logan taking down some big, burly guy.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face. "You’re gonna give them ideas, you know."

Logan stood, shrugging casually. "Kids need a little excitement."

"Not too much," you muttered, though you were grateful for the way he interacted with them. Most men in the city didn’t have the patience for children, especially not boys as wild as Edwin and Phillip.

As the boys ran off again, Logan glanced over at you, his expression softening just a bit.

"They look up to you," he said quietly.

You looked down, shrugging. "They’re good kids. Just need someone to look after them."

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching the boys as they disappeared into the crowd. Then, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, he turned back to you.

"You ever think about having your own?" he asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You hadn’t really thought about it—not seriously, anyway. Your life was too full of other people’s children, other people’s problems.

"I don’t know," you said slowly, glancing up at him. "Maybe someday. If I ever get that cabin, I might think about it."

Logan nodded, but didn’t say anything more. He just walked beside you, the two of you falling back into that easy, comfortable silence.

It wasn’t until later, as you lay in bed that night, that you found yourself thinking about his question again. The idea of a quiet life, away from the noise and chaos of the city, didn’t seem so impossible anymore—not when you imagined Logan there with you.

---

One night, after you had put the boys to sleep and were in Ada’s room to read a story to her, she asked you a question. “Why aren’t you like mama and papa?”

You raised your head from the book you were reading to her, “what do you mean?”

Her lips formed a small pout, “mama has papa, but you don’t have anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by Ada’s question. Her innocent curiosity made your heart ache, but you kept your voice steady.

“Well, sweetie,” you started, trying to find the right words, “sometimes, people are just on their own for a little while. It doesn’t mean they won’t find someone. Maybe they just haven’t yet.”

Ada considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. “But you’re so nice. Why doesn’t anyone love you?”

The simplicity of the question stung more than it should have. You chuckled softly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not that simple, Ada. But thank you for saying that.”

She didn’t seem satisfied with your answer, her tiny face still scrunched up in confusion. “Don’t you get lonely?”

You hesitated, glancing out the window at the darkening sky. The truth was, sometimes you did. Even though you were surrounded by people—taking care of the children, managing the house—you couldn’t deny that feeling creeping in every now and then.

“I have you, don’t I?” you finally said, smiling down at her. “And Edwin and Phillip. You three keep me pretty busy.”

Ada giggled softly at that, settling into her blankets. “I guess. But I think you should find someone, like mama did.”

You gave her a light kiss on the forehead, smoothing down her hair. “Maybe one day, kiddo.”

Ada yawned, her eyes drooping as sleep crept up on her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Ada,” you whispered, watching her drift off. You stayed there for a moment longer, thinking about her words, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The house was silent as you made your way down the hall, but your mind was anything but. Her innocent question stirred something inside of you, a longing that you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It wasn’t like you to dwell on what you didn’t have, but maybe… maybe Ada was right. Maybe there was something missing.

But it wasn’t something you could focus on right now. You had responsibilities. This family depended on you, and that was enough for now. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

As you reached your room and closed the door behind you, you caught sight of the bouquet of wildflowers Logan had quietly bought earlier in the day. You hadn’t noticed him purchase them at the market, but when you returned to the house, they were there on the doorstep, a small note attached that simply read, Thought you’d like these.

You smiled to yourself, gently picking up the flowers and placing them in a vase by the window. You hadn’t thought much about having someone of your own, but as you looked at the flowers, you couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like.

And, for the first time in a long while, the idea didn’t seem so far away.

---

The next few days passed quietly, with Logan visiting you at the market more frequently, though neither of you mentioned the wildflowers. There was an unspoken understanding between you—neither of you rushed things, but the connection was undeniably growing.

One afternoon, as you sat outside with Ada on your lap, reading her a story, Logan appeared at the gate. The children spotted him first, of course, and Edwin ran over, grinning ear to ear.

“Logan! You’re back!” he shouted, tugging at Logan’s coat. “Did you bring us any stories?”

Logan gave a soft grunt, glancing over at you with a smirk. “I might have one or two left.”

You shook your head, amused. “They’ll never leave you alone if you keep telling them stories, you know.”

Logan crouched down, ruffling Edwin’s hair. “I don’t mind,” he said, his gaze softening as he glanced at Ada in your lap. “How’re you doin’, kid?”

Ada looked up from the book and smiled shyly, giving him a small wave. “Hi, Logan.��

He smiled, the sight of the children always easing something in him, though he didn’t let it show too much.

As the kids ran off to play, Logan took a seat beside you on the bench. The two of you sat in silence for a while, watching the children chase each other across the yard.

“They’re good kids,” Logan said finally, breaking the quiet.

“They are,” you agreed. “They’ve got a lot of love to give, and not always enough people around to give it to.”

Logan turned his head slightly, his eyes studying you. “That include you?”

You looked down, fidgeting with your skirt. “Maybe. I spend so much time looking after everyone else, sometimes I forget there’s more to life than just… this.”

Logan didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly. Then, his voice low, he asked, “You ever think about finding something more?”

You turned to him, surprised by the question. “I don’t know if I’ve let myself think that far ahead,” you admitted, your heart beating a little faster under his gaze.

Logan looked away, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was holding something back. “Maybe you should.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a pull—a possibility of something beyond the life you’d built here. Something you hadn’t allowed yourself to dream about until now.

But before either of you could say more, the children’s laughter echoed through the yard, and the moment passed. Still, the feeling stayed with you long after Logan left that evening.

---

The sky had taken on that soft orange hue of evening, the kind that made the whole world feel suspended between day and night. You and Logan walked side by side along the Hudson River, the sound of water gently lapping against the shore mixing with the distant hum of the city. It had become your routine over the past few weeks, these evening walks—quiet, almost intimate, even though neither of you said much.

Today, though, something felt different. Logan had been quieter than usual, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the fading sunlight. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, as if there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

Logan nodded, though his expression didn’t quite match the motion. “Yeah, just… thinkin’.”

“About?”

He stopped walking, turning to face the river. You followed his gaze, watching the way the sun’s reflection danced on the surface of the water. After a long moment, he spoke.

“I’ve never really… had this before,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Y’know, just… bein’ with someone like this. Feels kinda strange.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer to him, close enough that your arm brushed against his. “Strange in a good way?”

Logan let out a short, almost nervous chuckle. “Yeah. In a good way.”

The two of you stood there, side by side, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You could feel the warmth of his presence, his arm just barely touching yours, and it sent a small thrill through you. You hadn’t been sure at first if what you felt for Logan was mutual—he was quiet, reserved, hard to read—but moments like this, when the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, made it clear. There was something unspoken between you, something neither of you had dared to put into words.

After a while, you turned to face him, studying the way his brow was furrowed, like he was deep in thought.

“Logan,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a kind of intensity that made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with something unsaid.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached out and took his hand, your fingers slipping into his. Logan stiffened at the touch, his eyes flicking down to where your hands were joined, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he stepped closer, his fingers curling around yours, holding on a little tighter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression cracking just enough to let something more vulnerable show through. He hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words, but then decided words weren’t necessary.

Instead, he took a small step forward, his free hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face. His touch was warm, rough, but there was a surprising tenderness in the way his thumb brushed lightly against your cheek. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in, his eyes flicking between yours as if asking for permission.

When you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But the second your lips met his, something inside you seemed to melt, and you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. Logan responded in kind, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you closer, the space between you disappearing entirely.

For a moment, it was just the two of you—the sound of the river fading away, the world narrowing down to the warmth of Logan’s lips against yours, the feel of his hand cradling your face like you were something precious.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing a little heavier, your foreheads resting against each other as you stood there, wrapped in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave you a small, almost sheepish smile. “Didn’t think I’d be kissin’ you tonight.”

You laughed softly, still a little breathless. “Neither did I.”

He pulled you closer, resting his chin on top of your head as he held you against him. The two of you stood there in the fading light, wrapped up in each other, the world beyond the river momentarily forgotten.

---

Logan thought back to your conversation about living in a cabin more than he cared to admit. The thought of it seemed nice, peaceful, and dare he say it perfect.

After a few weeks of being together, Logan had made a decision and scrounged up any money he could before buying a modest ring from a jeweler. He wasn’t going to propose yet but carrying the ring in his pocket felt right.

He had been coming over to the Thomases’ sprawling estate more often, whether it was walking with you from the market to the large house or even just stopping by of his own will. At first, it had been an occasional thing—a quiet visit here, a quick walk there—but lately, Logan found himself looking for excuses just to be around. You didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the way your eyes lit up when you saw him made him feel something unfamiliar, something good.

One late afternoon, Logan leaned against the garden gate, watching as you knelt by a row of flowers, tending to them with your usual care. He couldn’t help but admire the sight—your sleeves rolled up, hair slightly tousled from the breeze, a small smile on your lips as you worked. It made something in his chest tighten. He fingered the ring in his pocket, feeling its weight. He had no plan to use it anytime soon, but carrying it felt right, like a promise to himself.

You glanced up, catching his eye, and smiled, wiping your hands on your apron as you stood. "Back again, Logan?"

"Guess so," he replied, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thought you might need a hand."

"Well, I could always use one," you teased, stepping closer to him. "But you don’t strike me as the gardening type."

Logan chuckled, reaching out to take your hand, pulling you a little closer. "Not much of a gardener, no. But I can stand here and look good while you do all the work."

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t let go of his hand. The easy banter between you had become natural, and the affection between you had grown, unspoken but undeniable. After a moment, you tugged him toward a bench under a nearby tree.

“Sit with me for a minute,” you said softly. “I’ve been out here all day.”

He followed, sitting beside you as the evening breeze rustled the leaves above. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, watching the shadows lengthen as the sun began to set. Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the warm light catching the curve of your face.

“You ever think this is enough?” he asked suddenly, his voice quiet but clear.

You looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Logan hesitated, his fingers still laced with yours. “Just… this. Bein’ together. Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.”

You smiled softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I think it is enough,” you said after a moment. “I like this, Logan. I like us.”

His heart beat a little faster at your words, and without thinking, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. It wasn’t a big gesture, but it felt natural, like something he’d been wanting to do for a while. You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes, your lips curving into a gentle smile.

“You keep that up, and I’m never gonna let you go,” you teased, though there was something softer, almost serious, in your tone.

Logan smirked, pulling you closer until your legs brushed against his. “Don’t see a reason to.”

Your fingers traced absent patterns on the back of his hand, your touch light and thoughtful. “You know, I used to wonder if I’d ever feel this way about someone,” you admitted softly, your eyes focused on your hands. “If I’d ever meet someone who made me feel… like this.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, watching you, feeling the warmth of your words settle deep inside him. He’d never thought he’d find someone who made him feel like this either—like he didn’t have to keep moving, like maybe he’d found something worth staying for. He wanted to tell you that, to say what he was feeling, but the words stuck in his throat. So instead, he squeezed your hand, hoping you’d understand what he couldn’t say yet.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. The connection between you, the pull, was undeniable. Logan leaned in, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was slow, tender, like both of you were taking your time, savoring the moment. When you pulled back, your forehead rested against his, and for a second, the world outside the garden didn’t exist.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whispered, your breath warm against his lips.

Logan’s hand tightened on yours. “Maybe we will,” he murmured back, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You smiled, your eyes soft as you leaned in and kissed him again, slow and sweet. When you pulled back this time, you didn’t say anything, just settled into his side, your head resting against his chest as the two of you watched the sky shift into shades of pink and orange.

The world outside may have been complicated, full of responsibilities and noise, but here, with Logan beside you, it felt simple. Peaceful. Like this was all that mattered.

---

One late afternoon, you were sitting on the porch with Ada and the boys, telling them stories while they played at your feet. Logan leaned against the fence, watching you from a distance, his heart swelling at the sight of you surrounded by the children, laughing and carefree.

“You look like you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ serious,” your voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. You stood up, walking over to him, a teasing smile on your face.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinkin’ about how you handle those kids like it’s nothin’.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Trust me, it’s something. They’re a handful.”

Logan smiled, reaching out to take your hand. “You’re good at it. I like watchin’ you with them.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly at his compliment, and you glanced down, trying to hide the small smile playing at your lips. “Well, you’re not so bad with them yourself. Edwin won’t stop talking about that story you told him.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Kid’s got a wild imagination.”

You leaned in closer, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “Maybe he gets that from you.”

He smirked, slipping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “Think so?”

“I know so,” you whispered, your breath brushing against his neck.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of you, standing in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Logan’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

When he pulled back, your eyes were half-closed, your expression soft and content. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we doing?”

He looked at you, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your cheek. “Doin’ what feels right.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. “Yeah. It does feel right.”

The sound of the children’s laughter broke the quiet moment between you, and you both turned to see Ada running toward you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they could. “Y/N! Y/N!” she shouted, her face flushed with excitement. “Come play with us!”

You laughed, pulling away from Logan just enough to crouch down and catch Ada in your arms. “Alright, alright! I’m coming.”

As you stood, you glanced back at Logan, your eyes lingering on him for a moment longer. He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a smile, and you turned back to the children, running off with them into the yard.

Logan watched you for a while longer, his hand slipping into his pocket where the small ring rested. It wasn’t time yet, but someday, maybe he’d ask. Someday, when the moment was right.

For now, this was enough.

And for the first time in his life, that was all Logan wanted.

---

“Mrs. Thomas is sick. She wanted me to pick up some things for her before the doctor comes to check her out,” you explained, adding a sprig of thyme to your basket and handing the vendor a coin.

Logan stood beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching you with a casual ease that had become second nature to him. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked, though his tone wasn’t heavy—just curious.

You shrugged, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Probably just a cold. She’s been coughing a bit, but Mr. Thomas thinks she’ll be fine.”

Logan’s jaw ticked slightly, his eyes following the movement of your hand as it tucked the hair behind your ear. “You sure you should be around her if she’s sick?”

You smiled at his concern, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “It’s part of the job, Logan. Besides, I’ve been with her every day. If I was going to get sick, it would’ve happened by now.”

He frowned, not entirely convinced, but let it drop. You were stubborn like that—always brushing things off when they concerned you.

As you moved from stall to stall, picking out fresh herbs, bread, and tea, Logan trailed beside you, a silent presence at your side. It was comfortable—natural, even. You could feel him close, his arm brushing yours now and then, and though neither of you said much, it was the kind of quiet that felt good.

When you handed the grocer a coin for a small loaf of bread, Logan’s voice broke the easy silence. “You want me to walk you back?”

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Trying to sneak more time with me?”

Logan grinned, his hands still tucked in his coat pockets. “Maybe.”

Your laugh was soft and warm, and Logan swore it was one of his favorite sounds.

“You don’t have to, but I won’t say no if you want to,” you teased, shifting the basket on your hip. “The Thomases live all the way across town, though.”

Logan rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Don’t mind.”

With that settled, the two of you set off toward the Thomases’ estate, falling into step beside each other. The streets bustled with the usual afternoon crowds—vendors hawking their goods, carts rattling down cobbled roads, children darting through the streets. Yet somehow, it felt like the two of you existed in your own little world, insulated from the noise of the city.

“You been working much?” you asked after a moment, glancing sideways at him.

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Couple of odd jobs here and there.”

“Same ones?”

“Mostly.” He paused, as if debating whether to say more. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Not much call for a guy like me who’s no good with flowers.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy. “Well, I’m sure someone will take pity on you eventually.”

He bumped his shoulder against yours gently. “You already did.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile stayed on your face. “Lucky you.”

The walk was long, but neither of you minded. You pointed out things along the way—shops you liked, shortcuts you’d found, little bits of the city you’d come to know well in your time working for the Thomases. Logan listened, his attention fixed on you, and though he didn’t say much, you could tell he was soaking up every word.

When the two of you reached the tall iron gates of the Thomases' estate, you hesitated, lingering just a bit longer with Logan at the edge of the garden.

“Thanks for walking me,” you said softly, your fingers brushing over his for the briefest second.

“Anytime,” he murmured, catching your hand before you could pull it away. He gave it a squeeze, his eyes lingering on yours. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m fine, Logan. Just worried about Mrs. Thomas, I guess.”

He studied you for a beat longer, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of your hand. “You’ll let me know if you need anything, yeah?”

You gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah. I will.”

Neither of you moved at first, as if caught in a moment you weren’t quite ready to let go of. Logan’s gaze flickered to your lips, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you—right there at the gate, with the late afternoon sun warming your skin and the scent of lavender drifting from the garden.

But instead, he leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to your temple, his lips lingering just long enough to leave you breathless.

“See you soon,” he murmured against your skin.

You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest. “See you soon,” you whispered back.

Logan stepped away, his hands reluctantly slipping from yours, and you watched as he made his way back down the path. He didn’t look back, but somehow, you knew that he felt the same pull you did—the one that always seemed to draw you closer, no matter how far apart you were.

With a soft sigh, you turned and pushed open the gate, your basket swinging gently at your side as you made your way toward the house. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the neatly trimmed lawn.

You didn’t know it yet, but the weight of that moment—of Logan’s hand in yours, of the way his kiss had felt against your skin—would stay with you. It would become one of those memories you’d carry in the quiet hours, long after everything had changed.

But for now, it was just another afternoon. And that was enough.

You slipped inside the Thomases’ estate, greeted by the familiar smell of baked bread and lavender from the garden. The children’s laughter echoed faintly from upstairs, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the unease you felt about Mrs. Thomas.

As you moved through the grand hallway, the weight of Logan’s lingering kiss on your temple stayed with you, soft and comforting. His presence, though absent now, always seemed to cling to the air around you like the warmth of a hearth after a long day.

“Y/N!” Edwin’s voice called from the top of the stairs. You looked up to find him peering down at you, his unruly curls falling into his eyes. “Can we go to the park after tea? Phillip says he can run faster than me, but I bet I’ll beat him this time.”

You smiled up at him, though your thoughts were still on Mrs. Thomas. “We’ll see about that, Edwin. But let’s check in on your mother first, alright?”

He nodded, though his face fell a little, understanding the importance of that moment.

Making your way to Mrs. Thomas’s room, you found the air heavier, a staleness clinging to it that made you pause at the door. You knocked softly before entering, the creak of the door barely disturbing the quiet. Mrs. Thomas lay in bed, propped up by pillows, her face pale and drawn. Her once vibrant eyes were duller now, and the small cough you had heard earlier seemed more persistent, rattling in her chest.

“Mrs. Thomas,” you said gently, approaching her bedside with the basket of fresh supplies. “I’ve brought some thyme and tea. The doctor will be here later this week.”

Mrs. Thomas offered a faint smile, though it barely touched her lips. “Thank you, dear. You’re always so thoughtful,” she said, her voice raspy. She shifted slightly, wincing at the effort it took. “I’m sure it’s just a little cold.”

You forced a smile, though something inside you tugged with worry. “Of course. Just a little cold.”

After a few more moments, you excused yourself, promising to return later. The house felt stifling, the sense of something being wrong making your chest tighten. Logan had been right to be concerned. But you brushed it aside, focusing on the children.

A few hours later, after Edwin had indeed beaten Phillip in a race through the park, and Ada had insisted on collecting wildflowers for her mother, the three children were settled with tea. You were cleaning up the kitchen when a familiar knock came at the back door.

Opening it, you found Logan leaning against the frame, that easy smile already softening the tension in your shoulders.

“Thought you might like some company,” he said, stepping inside and pulling you into a gentle embrace. The warmth of his arms around you instantly melted away the weight of the afternoon, and for a moment, you simply leaned into him, breathing him in.

“Good timing,” you murmured into his chest. “The kids are winding down for the night. Edwin’s convinced he’s going to be the fastest man in the world.”

Logan chuckled, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to challenge him one day.”

You smiled, pulling back slightly to look up at him. “He’d love that.”

There was a beat of quiet as Logan’s hand came up to brush a stray hair from your face, his thumb lingering just under your jaw. His gaze softened, searching yours for something. It was moments like this—small, tender—that reminded you just how much you’d come to care for him in these past few weeks.

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

You hesitated, then nodded. “Just… worried about Mrs. Thomas. I don’t know, Logan, she seems worse than she’s letting on.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. “She’s tough, right? She’ll pull through.”

You nodded again, though the doubt lingered. “I hope so.”

Logan leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the weight of his presence anchoring you. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I will,” you whispered, your hands resting on his chest.

He pulled back just enough to catch your lips in a slow, gentle kiss. It was familiar, the way his mouth moved against yours—steady, comforting, with that undercurrent of longing that always seemed to simmer just beneath the surface between you two. When you finally parted, his thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze still locked on yours.

“I hate leaving you here,” he murmured, the frustration clear in his voice. “Especially with her sick.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine, Logan. Go home, get some rest.”

He gave a small grunt, clearly not thrilled with the idea of leaving, but he knew better than to argue when you got like this—determined and stubborn.

With a sigh, he leaned in once more, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before stepping back. “Alright. But I’m checking in tomorrow, whether you like it or not.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew at his protectiveness.

Logan gave you one last smile before turning to head back out into the night, his coat swaying as he disappeared into the shadows. You watched him go, the familiar tug in your chest pulling at you again, but this time it wasn’t just affection. It was worry—a gnawing sense of unease that had been creeping in since that afternoon in the market.

You stood there at the back door for a moment longer, staring into the empty street, wondering if Logan could feel it too—the quiet, unspoken fear that something was about to change.

---

The next few days passed quietly, the routine of the Thomases’ household carrying on as usual—though the coughs from Mrs. Thomas’s room seemed to grow more frequent, more strained. You tried not to think too much of it, telling yourself it was only a cold, that the doctor would sort it out when he came to visit. But there was a part of you, small but insistent, that couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at your thoughts.

The children kept you busy, of course. Edwin was endlessly energetic, challenging Phillip to races and daring Ada to climb the low trees in the garden, much to your chagrin. Ada, sweet and delicate, clung to your side like a shadow, her small hand often finding yours as she babbled on about her imaginary tea parties and grand adventures. In their presence, it was easy to forget the worry in the back of your mind—at least for a little while.

But then, in the quiet moments—like when you helped Mrs. Thomas to her bed after one of her coughing fits, or when the house seemed far too still after the children had fallen asleep—your thoughts would drift back to Logan. To the way he had kissed your forehead that day at the back door, how his hand had lingered in yours just a second longer than usual, as if he’d sensed it too. That something was wrong.

You found yourself waiting for him. Every evening, as the sun dipped low over the city and the shadows lengthened in the streets, you listened for that familiar knock at the back door. And every evening, without fail, he would come—never too late, never too early, always arriving when you needed him most.

Tonight was no different.

You were sitting at the small table in the kitchen, a pot of tea cooling beside you, when the soft knock came. A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, your heart lifting in that familiar way as you crossed the room and opened the door.

Logan stood there, his dark hair slightly tousled from the evening breeze, his expression soft but watchful. He gave you that crooked smile that always seemed to make everything feel lighter, as if the world wasn’t such a heavy place when he was around.

“Thought I might find you here,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

You shrugged, the smile still playing on your lips. “Where else would I be?”

He chuckled, moving to lean against the counter, his eyes flicking briefly to the teapot on the table. “You drinking alone?”

“For now,” you teased, pouring him a cup. “But I suppose I can share.”

Logan took the cup from you, his fingers brushing yours in that familiar way, sending a small, warm spark through your skin. He didn’t move to sit, though. Instead, he stayed close, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual, as if trying to read something in your face.

“What?” you asked softly, the weight of his stare making your heart flutter.

“Just checking in,” he said, his voice lower, more serious than before. “You look tired.”

You gave a small, weary laugh, shaking your head. “I’m fine, Logan. Just a lot on my mind.”

“Mrs. Thomas?” he guessed, sipping his tea.

You nodded, glancing at the floor. “She’s getting worse. I’m trying not to worry, but… I don’t know, something doesn’t feel right.”

Logan’s brow furrowed, and he set his cup down, moving to stand beside you. His hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of your sleeve. “If you need me to do anything—get more medicine, fetch the doctor sooner—you just say the word.”

You met his gaze, your chest tightening at the concern etched into his face. He always made you feel safe, even when you didn’t want to admit how scared you were. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, squeezing it gently.

“I know,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, the sounds of the city muted by the walls of the house. You could hear the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth, the distant hum of life outside, but here, in this small space, it felt like it was just the two of you. Just the two of you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder.

Logan shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully, his other hand coming to rest at your waist. He tugged you closer, his expression softening as he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead in that tender way that always made your heart skip. But this time, he didn’t stop there. He tilted your chin up gently, his gaze flicking briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“C’mere,” he whispered, and you didn’t need any more coaxing.

Your arms slid up around his neck, pulling him in as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was soft at first, tender, but there was a quiet intensity behind it, a sense of urgency you hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the weight of the unspoken worry hanging between you, or maybe it was just that every time you kissed him, it felt like it could be the last. Either way, you melted into him, savoring the warmth of his mouth against yours, the way his hands tightened around your waist as if he didn’t want to let you go.

When you finally pulled back, your breath mingling with his, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he let out a long, slow sigh.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You hadn’t meant to say it, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The thought of being alone with your worries, of facing the uncertainty of Mrs. Thomas’s illness by yourself, suddenly felt unbearable.

Logan’s eyes opened, his gaze soft but searching as he studied your face. “You sure?”

You nodded, your hands still resting at the nape of his neck. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

He didn’t hesitate after that. With a soft, reassuring smile, he nodded and pressed another kiss to your temple. “Alright. I’m here.”

---

The doctor had come by some days later bringing by news, Mrs. Thomas had tuberculosis. He gave her at least another month to live.

Mr. Thomas had instructed you to not let the kids near her as often, to make sure they don’t get sick. He didn’t seem to care much about Logan spending the night with you, or letting the kids be around him.

Logan had been spending more nights with you, by your request. It wasn’t something you talked about, just a quiet understanding between the two of you. The nights felt warmer with him beside you, the weight of the world a little lighter when you could lean against him. He never made a big deal out of it either. It was just...natural.

Tonight was no different. You sat by the fire in the small parlor, the children long since asleep upstairs. The flicker of the flames cast shadows across the room, and you caught yourself glancing toward the door, waiting for that familiar knock.

When it came, it was soft, almost hesitant. But you smiled, already rising to your feet to let him in. Logan stepped inside, brushing off the chill of the night as he shook the snow from his coat.

“Snow’s picking up out there,” he muttered, shrugging off the heavy coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d get here before it got too bad.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself as you watched him. “I’m glad you did.”

He crossed the room, and without another word, his arms wrapped around you. You melted into his chest, resting your head against him as the fire crackled in the hearth. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand running down your back.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

You sighed, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s… everything with Mrs. Thomas, the kids… I’m trying to keep it together.”

Logan frowned, his hands tightening slightly on your waist. “You don’t have to do it all yourself. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you said softly. “But I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t,” he repeated, his eyes searching yours. “I’m here.”

That simple statement hit you harder than you expected. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. He responded instantly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as if he needed it as much as you did. It was slow and tender, and you found yourself pulling him closer, trying to forget the weight of everything else, if only for a moment.

When you finally pulled back, Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

“You should sleep,” he whispered. “You’re exhausted.”

“Will you stay?” you asked, your voice small.

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

---

The nights blurred together. Logan was there more often than not, sometimes waiting for you when you finished putting the children to bed, other times arriving late after a day spent working. You hadn’t asked where he went during the day, and he hadn’t volunteered the information. It didn’t matter. When he was with you, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

The children, especially Ada, had continued asking why she couldn’t see her mother as often. It had broke your heart to tell her and the boys that their mom was sick, not going any further than that.

“They’ll understand one day,” Logan had said, trying to comfort you as you sat by the fire one evening. His arm was around your shoulders, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm.

You nodded, but the heaviness in your chest wouldn’t lift.

“I just want to help,” you murmured. “But I can’t.”

Logan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice low. “You’re doing more than you think, Y/N. Just being here for the kids, for her... it matters.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. There was something in the way he looked at you, something deeper than the usual concern. It was a look that made your heart skip, that made you realize just how much he had become a part of your life in such a short time.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before brushing his lips against yours in a slow, gentle kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing that connection, needing him.

When you finally pulled back, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Logan’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his touch soothing.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, as if the words alone could make everything right.

And for a moment, they did.

---

You could tell that after a month and a half, Mrs. Thomas didn’t have much time left. Maybe a week at the most. She was so young, barely 30 years old, and already having to face the inevitable. Her coughing had become more violent, her body thinner with each passing day, and the sparkle in her eyes was gone. She was fading right before your eyes.

It had been a long day. The kids were more restless than usual, likely sensing the shift in the household. You’d spent most of the afternoon calming Edwin and Ada while trying to keep Phillip out of trouble. Ada, in particular, had been clingy, holding onto your skirt as you moved about the house, asking you why her mother wasn’t coming out of her room anymore.

You gave her the same answer as always. “Your mama’s just resting, sweetheart.”

But even she seemed to sense something was off.

By the time the sun had started to set, you felt the exhaustion in your bones. You barely touched your dinner, pushing food around your plate before giving up entirely. It wasn’t just the physical tiredness, though. It was something deeper. A strange ache in your chest, one you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the weight of everything—Mrs. Thomas’s worsening condition, the children, Logan...

You hadn’t seen him tonight, and that small part of you that had grown used to his presence felt the void acutely. He had a way of grounding you, of making everything seem less overwhelming, if only for a little while. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were beginning to rely on him more and more.

As you climbed the stairs to check on the children, your steps felt heavier than usual. Fatigue, you told yourself. Just fatigue.

When you entered Mrs. Thomas’s room to help her settle for the night, she gave you a weak smile. “Thank you, Y/N... for everything.”

You smiled back, brushing her hair away from her face as you helped her lie down. “Don’t mention it. You just rest.”

Her breathing was shallow, the sound rattling in her chest. You tried not to let it show on your face, but inside, that gnawing worry had grown into a full-fledged fear. You knew the end was coming soon. You just hoped the children wouldn’t have to watch her fade.

---

Later that night, after the house had fallen quiet and the children were asleep, you sat by the small fire in the kitchen. You stared at the flickering flames, trying to let the warmth chase away the chill in your bones, but it wasn’t working.

You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft knock at the back door. Logan’s timing had always been impeccable, showing up when you needed him most, even if you hadn’t called for him. You rose from your seat and opened the door, letting him in with a small, tired smile.

“Cold out there,” he muttered, brushing the snow from his shoulders before stepping inside. He took one look at your face, and his brows furrowed. “You look exhausted, Y/N.”

You waved him off, shutting the door behind him. “It’s been a long day. Mrs. Thomas is...”

He didn’t need you to finish. He’d been coming by enough to know how bad things had gotten.

Logan crossed the small space between you and placed a hand on your arm. “You should be resting too. When’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?”

You let out a tired laugh, shaking your head. “What is that again?”

“Y/N,” he said, his tone a mix of teasing and concern. “You can’t keep running yourself ragged. You’re no good to the kids if you get sick.”

His words hit a little too close to home. That lingering ache in your chest hadn’t gone away, and now, with him standing so close, it seemed to press harder, making it difficult to breathe. You ignored it, trying to focus on his warm hand still resting on your arm, grounding you.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, leaning against him just slightly. “I just... I need you here. That’s all.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as his warmth enveloped you. It felt like everything else faded away when you were in his arms—like the weight of the world wasn’t quite so heavy.

“I’m here,” he murmured into your hair, his voice low. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed like that for a moment, just holding onto him, letting his presence soothe the anxiety that had been gnawing at you all day. His hands ran up and down your back in slow, soothing motions, and you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders sagging as the tension melted away.

But that ache in your chest didn’t fade. If anything, it seemed to settle deeper, a dull, persistent throb that you couldn’t quite shake.

“I don’t know how much longer she has,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Maybe a week. And the kids... I don’t know how to explain it to them.”

Logan sighed, his breath warm against your hair. “You’ll find the right words when the time comes. You always do.”

You weren’t sure about that, but you didn’t argue. Instead, you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting against his chest. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could see the same worry you felt reflected in his gaze. But there was something else too—something softer, something that made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could say anything, Logan leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent—just gentle, like he was trying to tell you without words that he was there, that you didn’t have to carry everything alone.

You kissed him back, your fingers curling into his shirt as you pulled him closer. For a few seconds, it was just the two of you, the world outside forgotten. But when you finally pulled back, the ache in your chest flared again, sharper this time, making you wince slightly.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, concern flashing across his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing it off. “Just... tired, I guess.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he kissed your forehead softly, his hands still holding you close. “You need to sleep. I’ll stay with you, okay?”

You nodded, letting him lead you to your small bedroom. As you lay down, Logan settled beside you, his arm draped around your waist as he pulled you close. You nestled against him, the warmth of his body soothing, but even as you drifted off to sleep, that strange ache lingered, a quiet reminder that something wasn’t right.

---

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to cling to you like a heavy blanket. You told yourself it was just the stress, the worry about Mrs. Thomas and the kids. But the truth was, deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Mr. Thomas had been around the house more often, spending almost every moment with his wife before she passed. It would only be a matter of days now. Her condition had deteriorated to the point where she was barely conscious most of the time, her labored breathing a constant reminder of the inevitable.

You moved quietly through the house, keeping the children occupied as best you could. Edwin and Phillip were rambunctious as always, but Ada had grown more subdued. She didn’t ask about her mother as often, as if sensing the unspoken truth everyone was trying to shield her from. You noticed how she clung to your side even more than usual, her small hands gripping your skirts, her wide eyes watching you with a kind of quiet understanding that broke your heart.

It was late afternoon, and the house was eerily quiet. The children were playing in the parlor, their laughter muffled behind the closed doors. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when a wave of exhaustion hit you. Your legs felt heavy, your chest tight. You hadn’t been sleeping well, the stress of Mrs. Thomas’s condition weighing on you, but this was different. Your appetite had been lacking for days, though you’d convinced yourself it was just nerves.

You leaned against the counter, taking a slow, deep breath to steady yourself. It would pass. You just needed rest.

Logan wasn’t due to visit tonight. He had mentioned something about work keeping him late, and you didn’t want to ask him to come by, though the ache in your chest—the one you tried to ignore—longed for his presence.

Shaking off the lingering fatigue, you made your way upstairs to check on Mrs. Thomas. As you reached the top of the stairs, you heard her soft, raspy breathing. You hesitated outside the door, your hand resting on the doorknob for a moment, before slowly opening it and stepping inside.

Mr. Thomas sat at his wife’s bedside, holding her hand gently. He glanced up at you, his face pale and drawn, the exhaustion of weeks of worry evident in his eyes. You gave him a small, comforting smile, though you weren’t sure how much comfort you could offer.

"Thank you, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep and emotion. "For everything."

You nodded, moving to the other side of the bed to check on Mrs. Thomas. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She didn’t stir when you adjusted the blankets around her. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of sickness, and you fought the urge to cough, your throat suddenly dry.

“She’s peaceful,” you murmured softly, glancing at Mr. Thomas.

He nodded but didn’t say anything. His gaze was fixed on his wife, his hand never leaving hers.

You stayed for a moment longer, but the fatigue creeping up your spine forced you to excuse yourself. As you descended the stairs, your legs felt weaker than before, and a dull ache had settled in your chest. You rubbed absently at your throat, trying to shake off the discomfort. It was nothing, you told yourself. Just tired.

The evening stretched on, the children finally quieting down for bed. You tucked them in, lingering for a moment by Ada’s bedside. She reached for your hand, her tiny fingers curling around yours.

“Will Mama be better soon?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “She’s resting, sweetheart,” you said softly. “Just keep being brave, alright?”

Ada nodded, her eyes already heavy with sleep, though the worry didn’t leave her small face.

Once they were all asleep, you returned downstairs, your body feeling heavier with each step. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long shadows across the room. You sat by the fireplace, staring into the dying flames, and let the silence of the house settle over you.

And then there was a soft knock at the back door.

Your heart lifted despite the exhaustion weighing you down. You rose slowly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Logan standing there, snowflakes dusting his hair and coat. He gave you a crooked smile, his eyes scanning your face with concern.

“You look tired,” he said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Really tired.”

“I’m fine,” you murmured, though the weariness in your voice betrayed you. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I finished earlier than I thought,” he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. “Thought I’d check on you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You melted into him, resting your head against his chest as the warmth of his body seeped into yours. For a moment, the ache in your chest seemed to ease, the fatigue lifting just a little.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he studied your face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I’m here.”

His lips met yours in a slow, tender kiss, and you felt the tension in your body begin to unravel. The warmth of his mouth, the familiar strength of his hands holding you close—it was all you needed in that moment. When the kiss ended, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

“You need to rest,” he murmured. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I will,” you promised, though you didn’t want to leave his arms just yet. You leaned into him, letting his presence chase away the exhaustion for a little longer.

---

The funeral was only 6 days later, 4 days after Mrs. Thomas’ passing. She was buried at the Prospect Cemetery at a small affair with rich people you had only heard of in passing.

The funeral was a somber affair. Mrs. Thomas was laid to rest under a sky that threatened snow, and you stood a little ways back, holding Ada’s hand tightly. She had been unusually quiet since her mother’s passing, and even Edwin and Phillip had sensed the weight of the occasion, their usual energy tempered by the somber mood.

You glanced around at the crowd gathered—a sea of dark, expensive fabrics, murmured condolences, and familiar faces. Most of the people you recognized only by name or through brief encounters at the Thomas house. They didn’t seem to belong to the world you inhabited, their whispered conversations and distant gazes a reminder of the divide between their lives and yours.

Mr. Thomas stood near the front, his face a mask of stoicism as he accepted words of sympathy. His children had not left your side, and you knew why. They found more comfort in you than in the strangers who seemed to only appear during tragedies. You didn’t blame them.

As the ceremony came to a close, Ada tugged at your hand. "Can we go home now?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the sound of rustling leaves and shifting boots in the cold.

You nodded, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes.”

You caught Mr. Thomas’s eye as he stepped away from the others. He gave you a weary nod, and you knew it was time to leave. You guided the children back to the carriage, helping them inside before following. The ride home was silent, save for the occasional sniffle from Ada and the creaking of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets.

---

Back at the house, the quiet felt heavier than before. You could feel the weight of grief settling over everything, and it seemed to seep into your bones, making the fatigue that had been gnawing at you for days feel unbearable. Once the children were settled, you retreated to the kitchen, needing a moment to yourself.

But the moment you sat down, the ache in your chest flared up again, sharper this time. You tried to breathe through it, but the tightness only seemed to get worse. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you pressed a hand to your throat, willing it to pass. It felt like something more than just exhaustion now. Something was wrong, but you didn’t have time to worry about it.

The back door creaked open, and you startled, your hand flying to your chest as Logan stepped in. His eyes immediately found yours, narrowing in concern.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low but urgent as he crossed the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile as you tried to stand. “I’m just tired. Long day.”

But Logan wasn’t buying it. His hand caught yours, and he gently pulled you to him, his other hand resting on your waist. “You’ve been tired for days,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “And you look worse now than you did a week ago.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, leaning into his warmth without thinking. “Just... everything with Mrs. Thomas. I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just held you there, his thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. “You’re not fine,” he said softly. “You need to rest. You’re running yourself into the ground, and I don’t want—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. “I just... I just want to stay like this for a while. Can we do that?”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We can stay like this as long as you need,” he whispered.

The warmth of his embrace, the steady rise and fall of his chest, calmed the rapid beating of your heart. It didn’t make the ache in your chest go away, but it dulled the edges for a little while. You stayed like that, your bodies swaying slightly, as if rocking back and forth would somehow soothe the turmoil inside you both.

After a long stretch of silence, Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft but serious. “You’ve gotta start taking care of yourself,” he murmured. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I will,” you promised, though you weren’t sure how much of it was for him and how much was for yourself. You could see the worry etched in his features, and it made your heart ache in a different way. “I just... I don’t want to leave the kids right now. They need me.”

Logan sighed, shaking his head slightly. “They need you alive and healthy, not running yourself ragged.”

You knew he was right, but the thought of stepping away—of not being there for them when they needed you most—made your stomach turn.

“I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I’m all they have right now.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently, his lips lingering against yours in a way that felt both comforting and urgent, as if he was trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’m here. Always.”

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. It was moments like this, in the quiet after the storm, that made everything feel bearable, even when the exhaustion seemed impossible to shake. You didn’t want to think about what came next—the inevitable questions from the children, the grief that would continue to hang over the house like a dark cloud.

For now, you just wanted to be here, with Logan, in this fleeting moment of peace.

---

Over the next few days, that small cough persisted, annoying but easy to brush off at first. You told yourself it was just the cold weather, or maybe the exhaustion still clinging to you. But it stuck around, and soon it wasn’t just a cough. Your chest felt heavier, and there were moments where you had to stop to catch your breath.

You didn’t say anything to Logan the first few nights he visited, not wanting to worry him. It wasn’t like you were coughing up blood or anything, and you figured it would pass, just like the fatigue had started to. But when he saw you rubbing your chest again, his eyes narrowed with concern.

“You’ve been coughing a lot,” Logan said one evening, his arm draped casually over your shoulder as you leaned into him by the fire. The warmth of the flames helped ease the tightness in your chest, but even then, it felt harder to breathe than it had before.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, tucking your legs under you and snuggling closer to him, hoping to avoid the conversation. “It’s just the cold. Everyone’s getting sick this time of year.”

Logan tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, don’t pull that. I know you, and you’re coughing more than you should be. This isn’t just a cold.”

You sighed, not wanting to argue, but the exhaustion weighed on you, and fighting him off seemed too tiring. “Okay, maybe it’s not just a cold,” you admitted, glancing at him. “But it’s nothing serious. I’m just run down.”

Logan’s fingers gently traced up your arm, his touch familiar and grounding. He looked at you with that steady gaze of his, the one that made you feel safe. “You need to rest. Real rest, not just five minutes of sleep here and there between looking after the kids.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile, reaching up to touch his face. “I know. But they need me right now, especially Ada. She’s not taking this well, and I can’t just leave her.”

Logan leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re no good to them if you collapse from exhaustion.”

The way he said it—so serious, so protective—it made your chest ache in a different way. You knew he was right, but the thought of taking a step back when the kids were still hurting felt impossible.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, but your voice wavered just enough that Logan picked up on it.

He kissed you softly, slow and gentle, like he was trying to pour all of his concern into that one kiss. When he pulled back, his hand lingered on the side of your face. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself, Y/N,” he said softly. “I’m here.”

You looked at him, feeling the weight of his words, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

But the next morning, as you moved through the house and got the kids ready for the day, the cough came back with a vengeance. It left you winded, gripping the counter to steady yourself as your breath caught in your throat. Ada was tugging at your skirt, asking for something, but the ringing in your ears made it hard to focus.

“Y/N?” her small voice called, but everything sounded distant.

You forced yourself to smile, pushing through the wave of dizziness. “I’m okay, sweetheart,” you said, though it was more for you than her. The ache in your chest was sharper now, and for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed your mind.

That evening, when Logan came by, you didn’t have the energy to hide how bad you felt. The second he walked through the door, he saw it in your face.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice urgent as he rushed to your side. “What the hell happened? You look worse.”

You tried to brush it off, but the cough came again, harsher this time, and Logan’s eyes darkened with worry. His hands were on you, steadying you as you leaned into him, the warmth of his body grounding you again.

“You’re not fine,” he said, his tone more serious now. “I should’ve done something sooner.”

“Logan, don’t—”

“I’m taking you to a doctor,” he interrupted, his jaw set. “No arguing.”

You wanted to protest, but the truth was, you didn’t have the strength to fight him. You were too tired, too worn down, and part of you was scared. So you nodded, letting him pull you into his arms as if holding you close would make everything better.

“I’m here,” Logan whispered against your hair, his voice soft and filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I’ll take care of you, okay? You’re not going through this alone.”

---

The next morning, Logan arrived earlier than usual. He wasn’t taking any chances, especially after the night before. You’d barely slept, your coughing keeping you awake for most of it, and when you did manage to drift off, it was only in short, restless intervals.

Logan helped you into the carriage he’d hired, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary, his brow furrowed with worry. He hadn’t said much since arriving, just a quiet “Mornin’” before ushering you outside. His concern was written all over his face, even though he tried to hide it behind a mask of calm.

You leaned back against the seat, closing your eyes as the carriage bumped along the cobbled streets. Each breath felt heavier, the tightness in your chest worsening by the day. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew this was more than just a cold. The cough had settled deep, rattling in your lungs, and even though you tried to convince yourself it was nothing serious, the thought that it could be something more was gnawing at you.

Logan sat beside you, his knee pressed against yours as he kept a protective hand on your leg. Every so often, you’d feel his gaze on you, watching, as if checking to make sure you were still holding on. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

When the carriage finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw the modest sign hanging above the doctor's office. Logan didn’t waste any time helping you down, his arm tight around your waist as you made your way inside.

The waiting room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. Logan barely let go of you the entire time, his arm never leaving your waist, and when the doctor finally called you in, Logan made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

Inside the small exam room, the doctor—a middle-aged man with silver hair and a kind face—greeted you both with a nod. His expression shifted when he looked at you, though, his eyes softening in a way that made your stomach churn with nerves.

“How long have you had the cough, miss?” the doctor asked as you sat down, Logan standing right behind you.

“A few days,” you said, your voice raspy and weak. “Maybe a little longer.”

The doctor frowned slightly, moving closer to examine you. “And the fatigue? Any weight loss?”

You nodded. “Yes... I’ve been really tired, and I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Logan’s hand rested on your shoulder, a silent reassurance that he was there. The doctor continued his examination, listening to your chest with a stethoscope, his brow furrowing as he moved from side to side.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor stepped back, letting out a slow breath. He met your eyes, and you knew immediately that it wasn’t good.

“I don’t want to alarm you,” he began, his voice gentle. “But given your symptoms and the sound of your lungs, I believe you may have contracted tuberculosis.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight. You felt Logan tense behind you, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly.

Tuberculosis.

The sickness that had taken Mrs. Thomas. The same one that had been lingering in the house for weeks.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You’d heard the stories—the way it ravaged families, the way it spread so easily. You’d seen it firsthand with Mrs. Thomas, watching her waste away before your eyes.

“How... how bad is it?” Logan’s voice was rough, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

The doctor glanced at him, his expression serious. “It’s hard to say right now. Tuberculosis can vary greatly in severity. We’ll need to monitor her closely. Rest, proper care, and keeping her away from others as much as possible will be essential.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat felt tight. “What... what do we do now?”

The doctor sighed. “We’ll start with treatment to help ease the symptoms—medicinal herbs, rest, and a strict diet. It’s crucial that you avoid any further exertion. You’ll need to isolate yourself to prevent it from spreading.”

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. The thought of being confined, of having to stay away from the children—it made your chest tighten even more. How were you supposed to care for them when you couldn’t even take care of yourself?

Logan crouched down in front of you, his eyes searching yours as he held your hands in his. “We’ll figure this out, okay?” he said softly. “You’ll rest, and I’ll help with the kids. You’re not doing this alone.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want Logan to see how scared you really were.

“I don’t want to leave them,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They need me.”

“I know,” Logan murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your hand. “But they need you healthy, Y/N. And I need you healthy.”

You looked at him, your heart aching at the sight of his worry. He was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep it together, but you could see the fear in his eyes—the same fear you felt deep in your bones.

“We’ll get through this,” he said firmly. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Not without a fight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands as tightly as you could. Logan stayed close, his presence a steady, comforting force as the weight of the diagnosis settled over you both.

---

Weeks passed, and the house became quieter. The children were kept at a distance, the once lively home now feeling more like a tomb as you spent your days in bed, trying to gather what little strength you had left. Logan had taken over your duties, ensuring the children were cared for while also staying close to you.

Your body grew weaker with each passing day, the illness creeping deeper into your lungs. The once mild cough had turned into something far more painful, leaving you breathless and exhausted after every fit. You knew, deep down, that the end was approaching. You could feel it in the way your energy dwindled, the way even opening your eyes took effort.

Logan, on the other hand, refused to give up. He never spoke of what was coming, never let on that he saw the same inevitable truth. Instead, he clung to hope, pushing you to eat, to drink, to rest. His presence was a constant, grounding you even in your weakest moments.

Sometimes you even talked about the future, the one you knew you would never have, and the one Logan hoped you would, with him.

Your coughing fit had died down for now, leaving you in bed with your head resting against Logan’s shoulder. His arm was wrapped protectively around you, and the warmth of his body gave you a sense of comfort, even when the pain in your chest didn’t. You took in a shaky breath and spoke softly.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” you murmured, your voice still weak. “Maybe two.”

Logan shifted slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. “Yeah? What kind?”

You shrugged, smiling a little. “Doesn’t really matter. I just like the idea of having something waiting for me at home, you know? Something happy to see me, no matter what kind of day I’ve had.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “You’d be a good dog mom.”

You looked up at him, a playful glint in your tired eyes. “You think?”

“Definitely. You’ve already got all the practice with the kids.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing the back of your hand. “Except maybe the dog would be less trouble.”

You laughed, but it turned into a cough, and you quickly brought a hand to your mouth. Logan tensed beside you, waiting until the coughing subsided before speaking again.

“You’re gonna get better, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice firm, but the edge of worry was clear. “We’ll get you that dog. Or two.”

You didn’t respond right away. You wanted to believe him—really, you did—but each day you felt weaker, and it was getting harder to ignore the reality of your situation. But you also didn’t want to drag him down with your fears, so you leaned into him instead, letting the moment linger.

You put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him, “how many kids would you want?”

Logan looked at you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Kids, huh?” His voice was warm, teasing, but there was something tender in the way he looked at you, like he was imagining it for real.

“Yeah,” you said, resting your chin on his shoulder, eyes searching his face. “I know it’s kind of silly to think about right now, but... I like the idea. You?”

He took a breath, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your arm. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Never really thought much about it until you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Until me?”

Logan chuckled softly. “Yeah. Before you, I wasn’t really thinkin’ about things like... a future, you know? I didn’t even know if I’d stay in the city long. But now... now I think about things I never used to.” He paused, glancing down at your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. “Like kids, and... us.”

Your heart fluttered at that, the weight of his words settling in. He’d never said anything like that before—nothing about the future beyond today or tomorrow. It wasn’t like either of you knew what was coming, especially now, but hearing him say that he thought about you in that way made everything feel more real. More possible.

You grinned, nudging him playfully. “So, how many then? Two? Three?”

Logan laughed quietly. “Two sounds good. Just enough to keep us on our toes, but not so many we lose our minds.”

You giggled, a sound that quickly turned into a cough, and Logan’s smile faded a little, worry creeping back into his eyes. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just held you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he could shield you from everything bad in the world.

Once the cough subsided, you leaned your head back against his chest. “I think you’d be a good dad, Logan.”

His hand stilled against your arm. “You think?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “You’re good with the kids now, even if you don’t realize it. They like you, trust you. You’d protect them... care for them.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts. “I’d try,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

The warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence—it was enough to make you forget, for just a little while, how weak you felt. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of him, of this moment, even though you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like?” you asked quietly. “If we didn’t have to worry about... this.” You gestured vaguely, meaning the illness, the uncertainty, all of it.

“All the time,” Logan murmured. “But we’ve still got time, Y/N. I’m not giving up on you.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “You really think we’ll make it through this?”

Logan’s gaze was unwavering. “I know we will.”

His confidence, his belief in you, in this, made your heart ache in the best way. You wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto that hope, even though the fear lingered in the back of your mind.

“You don’t have to be so tough all the time,” Logan said gently, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “It’s okay to lean on me.”

You looked at him, your chest tight for a different reason now. “I know.”

And you did. Logan was always there, steady and unshakable, even when you felt like you were falling apart. You didn’t have to do this alone, even if part of you still felt like you should.

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. “I’m with you, Y/N,” he whispered. “No matter what.”

You closed your eyes again, savoring the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms around you. For now, that was enough.

But even as you rested against him, part of you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that your time was running out.

---

Logan hated the fact that everything you said was in past tense. How you would’ve liked to learn how to bake bread in that cabin you wanted.

How you would’ve liked to learn how to crochet.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a quiet intensity. You had been talking again, your voice soft and tired, about all the things you wished you had more time to do. It was starting to drive him crazy—the way you spoke in past tense, like you were already halfway gone.

“Would’ve liked to learn how to crochet,” he repeated softly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. I always thought it’d be nice to make something with my hands. You know, like a blanket or something... for the cabin.”

Logan’s chest tightened. He hated this—hated that you were talking about all these little dreams like they were out of reach. He leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re gonna be fine, Y/N,” he said, trying to sound more certain than he felt. “You’ll still have time for all that.”

You met his gaze, your eyes soft but filled with something else—something that made his heart ache. “Logan...”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You don’t get to talk like that. We’re gonna get you through this.”

You let out a soft sigh, your hand coming up to touch his cheek. “You don’t always have to be strong, you know. It’s okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Logan said quickly, though the way he gripped your hand a little tighter gave him away. He wasn’t ready to admit it—to you, to himself—that the thought of losing you scared him more than anything he’d ever faced.

You smiled faintly, shifting on the bed so you could lean into him. “I know you, Logan. You don’t have to pretend for me.”

Logan felt his throat tighten as you pressed closer to him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, trying to hold on to the moment for as long as he could. Your body felt so fragile against his, like you could break if he held you too tight. But he needed to feel you, to remind himself that you were still here.

“Don’t,” Logan said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t talk like that.” He looked away for a second, trying to regain control of the storm raging inside him. He didn’t want to hear the finality in your voice, didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that you might slip away from him.

You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you touched his cheek. “Logan, you know as well as I do...”

“No,” he repeated, cutting you off again, his voice gruff but shaky. His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against his face. “I’m not losing you. I don’t care what the doctor says. We’ll fight this. We’ll get through it.”

There was a long silence between you, the air heavy with the unspoken truth. You didn’t have the heart to argue with him, but you knew. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your body was failing you little by little every day. But Logan’s refusal to accept that reality made you love him even more, even if it hurt.

You gave him a sad smile, your eyes locking with his. “I love you, Logan.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The weight of those words—words you’d both danced around but never truly said—hit him like a punch to the gut. He leaned in close, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice breaking just a little.

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. It wasn’t fair, any of this. You’d only just begun to imagine a life with him, and now that future was slipping through your fingers.

Logan held you tighter, his arms wrapped around you as if he could protect you from everything, even death. He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, before pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t passionate or desperate—just soft, filled with all the love he hadn’t yet had the chance to show you.

“I’m here,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your skin. “Always.”

And for a moment, despite the pain, despite everything, you believed him. Because even if the future was uncertain, even if you didn’t have much time left, you had this. You had him. And for now, that was enough.

---

Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.

You had already accepted your fate, but Logan couldn’t—no matter how many times you tried to explain. He kept his focus on you, his stubborn hope unwavering, even though you both knew time was running out.

“You’re gonna be fine, Y/N. You’ll see,” he said softly, sitting beside you on the bed. He brushed a hand through your hair, his touch gentle, but the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss.

You looked up at him, your chest tight—not from the sickness, but from the overwhelming love you felt for him in that moment. “Logan... we need to talk about this.”

He shook his head immediately, his jaw clenched. “No, we don’t. We don’t have to talk about anything like that. You’re gonna get better, and we’ll figure everything out.” His voice cracked just a little at the end, betraying the fear he was trying to hide.

You reached for his hand, your fingers trembling as they closed around his. “I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want to spend what little time we have left lying to ourselves.”

Logan looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. “But I can’t... I can’t think about losing you.”

“You don’t have to think about it,” you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. “But we need to be honest with each other. I’m not getting better, Logan. We both know that.”

His whole body tensed beside you, and he turned his head away as if looking anywhere but at you would somehow make your words less real. “I can’t... I can’t lose you, Y/N.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and leaned closer, pressing your lips softly to his jaw. “I love you, Logan. That’s all that matters to me right now.”

His breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just sat there, holding you as if he could protect you from the inevitable, his arms tightening around you.

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I love you too. More than anything. That’s why I’m not giving up.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your heart breaking for him. “I know you’re trying to protect me... but I don’t want you to carry this alone. I need you to be here with me, in this moment, not fighting something we can’t change.”

Logan’s eyes met yours, and for a second, the wall he’d built around himself seemed to crack. “I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to just... be.”

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “You can let go.”

His eyes softened, and before you could say anything else, Logan leaned in and kissed you—soft, but with an intensity that made your heart ache. It was a kiss that said everything he couldn’t put into words: the fear, the love, the desperation to hold onto whatever time you had left.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes, your hand still resting on his cheek. “We don’t have to say goodbye yet. Just stay with me. That’s all I want.”

Logan didn’t respond with words. Instead, he held you tighter, his arms wrapping around you as if he could keep you with him through sheer willpower alone. You could feel the tremble in his hands, the way his breath hitched every now and then like he was fighting back tears.

For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading into nothingness. There was no cough, no sickness, no uncertainty—just the warmth of Logan’s body against yours and the steady beat of his heart beneath your hand.

Eventually, you spoke, your voice barely audible. “I wish we had more time.”

Logan’s grip tightened slightly. “Me too.”

You felt a lump in your throat, but you forced a small smile. “You know... if things were different, I think we’d have had a pretty good life together.”

Logan’s voice was thick with emotion as he replied, “We still will. Somehow... someday.”

You leaned your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Maybe in another life.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body stiffened, like he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again—even in another life.

“You don’t have to be alone, Logan,” you whispered, your voice soft but filled with all the love you had left. “Promise me you won’t shut yourself off.”

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and raw. “I can’t promise that.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that was the best you were going to get from him. “Just... don’t forget me.”

Logan leaned down and pressed another kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long time. “I could never forget you.”

The room was quiet after that, the only sound the soft rustling of the blankets as Logan adjusted you in his arms, pulling you closer.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion creeping in again, but this time it didn’t feel so overwhelming. With Logan’s warmth surrounding you, with his quiet strength holding you up, you felt at peace.

---

You had passed away in your sleep that night, in Logan’s arms. He had stayed up, something in his subconscious telling him to keep his eye on you.

And he did, he felt you take your last breath; one that didn’t seem as painful as when you were awake.

Logan held you close, his arms tightening around you instinctively as he realized what had just happened. His mind refused to process it, refused to accept that this was it. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with breaths that felt foreign in his own body. You weren’t moving anymore, not even the faintest stir.

For a long time, he didn’t let go. He couldn’t. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his face buried in your hair, willing his warmth into your body as if that could somehow bring you back.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice broken. He lifted his head slightly, his thumb brushing your cold cheek. "Please... wake up."

There was no answer.

Logan swallowed hard, his throat burning, his chest tightening. His hand trembled as it caressed your face, fingers gently tucking your hair behind your ear like he’d done a hundred times before. But this time, there was no playful smile in return. No teasing comment about how messy your hair always was.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

He let out a shaky breath, his other hand clutching the bedsheet, the weight of what had happened finally starting to crush him. He knew this moment was coming—he’d known it for weeks, maybe even months—but now that it was here, it didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how it had come to this, how someone as full of life as you could just... stop.

“Y/N... don’t do this... please,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible as if saying it any louder would make it more true. His hand lingered on your cheek, hoping for even the smallest sign that you’d take another breath.

But nothing came.

He stayed like that for a long time, just holding you, feeling the weight of your stillness.

Logan had never felt so powerless in his life. For all the things he could do, for all the strength in his bones, none of it could save you. His healing couldn’t save you. The realization cut him deeper than any wound ever had.

At some point, he felt his chest tremble, felt the tears start to burn at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t cried in years, maybe ever—not like this—but he couldn’t stop it now. Not when he’d lost you.

“I... I love you,” he choked out, the words falling from his lips like a confession, like an apology for not saying it enough while you were still here to hear it. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice breaking again. “I love you so much...”

The room was silent, except for the sound of Logan’s ragged breathing and the ticking of the old clock in the corner, each second passing with an agonizing slowness. He wished he could turn it back, go back to when you were still here—laughing, talking, smiling. Anything but this.

But he couldn’t.

And the weight of that realization shattered him.

For the first time in his life, Logan had no fight left in him. Not for this. Not without you.

i'm not gonna lie, i definitely started crying while writing those last few scenes, even though i knew how it was gonna end

just a little note for everyone (i'll probably add this at the end of every chapter just cause it helped me when writing) in this chapter, logan is 22 years old and reader is around the same age.

tags: @seasonofthenerd @golden-ebony @planetxella @tighrenicotine @wittyjasontodd @cherrypieyourface @tumharisakhi @person-005 @zaggprincess2

[mishellii]

petnames headcanons .ᐟ.ᐟ

modernworld!attack on titan x fem!reader

including: eren, armin, levi, hange, erwin, jean, mikasa, connie & sasha

warnings: NSFW! minors do not interact; not proofread,,, as always, pretty self indulgent oops

likes & reblogs appreciated<3

masterlist

𐙚EREN.

★i have this fb image about him in my head that i just can't get rid of

★...... babygirl

★but hear me out

★most of the times when he has NO idea what you're on about or he's trying to tease u

★uses it mostly while texting tho!

★"that's literally insane bbg"

★he's so UGHH

★always greets u with babe

★he'd definitely use ur name as well but he loves loves petnames

★sugar, pretty girl, u name it

★thinks they're so cute

★when ur asking something of him or like giving him shit he'd hit u with a

★"sure, ma"

★and idk about u but that's kinda hot

NSFW.

★so so basic but he loves calling you baby during sex, even though he calls u that all the time

★i think he'd use such teasing words and soft n sweet petnames just fit so well with that

★"oh, now you're listening, baby?"

★"c'mon, pretty, you were all mouthy earlier, tell me."

★says ur name only when he cums :)

★and the usual good girl when ur finished

★c'mon we been knew

──────────୨ৎ───────────

𐙚ARMIN.

★love

★LOVE

★just love man he's so so loving in his words he wouldn't ever call you anything degrading

★"sure, angel, i'll get right to it."

★but most likely when texting??

★perhaps he's too shy to call u anything but your name in public but he's trying i promise

★also the type to call u something only the both of you would know the reason behind; something no one else would know why he'd call u that

NSFW.

★oh my sweet boy

★i am a sub armin believer, but more on the switchy side so he could definitely dom if he feels confident enough in the relationship

★"please, angel, let me cum"

★with that subtle manipulative tone barely noticeable because of his oh so gentle words

★"i know, darling, just a bit more, please?"

★also loveeees moaning your name and hearing YOU say his name cuz he feels more connected this way

★,,,sighs dreamily

𐙚LEVI.

★this little bloke

★refuses to call u anything but ur name in public like,,,, if there's other people, he's using your name there's no way around it

★except for the infamous brat of course (i'm bumping that)

★,,i'm not telling you again, brat."

★in the comfort of ur living space, where it's just the two of you, he might throw in something cute if he's in a particularly soft mood

★"Already did the dishes, love, go lay down."

★pretty confident when he's texting tho, but simply cuz the words sound too foreign coming out of his mouth

★"Sure, Sweetheart. See you at home."

NSFW.

★dom levi defender for life u can haunt me down idc i stand by this

★once he feels comfortable and secure enough in ur relationship, certain you won't run off, he'd definitely lose the no-feelings-attitude and become more playful and daring

★"hands above your head, doll, i'm not telling you again."

★he can be pretty mean and unfair ,,,

★just.... u need to give him what he wants before he gives u what you want u feel me

★"beg"

★-"please."

★"like a good girl."

★not opposed to throwing in the brat again if ur pissing him off

★i'd gladly piss him off

★gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn

𐙚HANGE.

★AAAAA A A A AAAAAAA

★"darling, i'm almost done."

★i would go to war for hange pls someone hold my hand

★now i think they're not entirely intrigued by pet names but some do slip out when they're feeling soft or they're in a silly mood

★once hange stalked the internet for too long and found "the cuppycake song" and started calling u stuff like my snoogums boogums or hunny bunch to get on ur nerves

★when noticing you're down or not in the best mood they use comforting ones tho

★"you okay, dear?"

★texts usually with the basic babe cuz they think it's short and still comes across as endearing, right?

NSFW.

★ugh

★"legs spread, sweet thing."

★ hange's a switch me thinks but with a preference for dominating??? idk why i'm even talking about this but y'all need to get the idea

★"did i tell you to move, pretty girl?"

★ugh pt.2

★when feeling subby they'd mostly use ur name tho ??

★or a teasing "yes, ma'am" to get u even more worked up (if u weren't already)

𐙚ERWIN.

★mr.smith my god

★he's so sweetheart coded fuck off

★and always puts "my" infront of pet names to insure people know u belong together

★doesn't matter if ur married or not

★"i'm just finishing up work, my love."

★if he talks with someone else about you it'd be either "my lady" or "my wife"

★he's oh so respectful when he talks about u i'm going insane

★texting would be the same tbh

NSFW.

★ahem

★"there you go, sweet girl. that's it."

★HE'S JUST SO-

★like he loves ur name too don't get me wrong but once he knows how much u love hearing him say those things it'll be hard to get him to stop

★"let me hear you, angel."

★makes u feel so much with his words and soft voice i hate it here

★erwin smith the man u are

𐙚JEAN.

★"hey, good lookin', how's it going?"

★doesn't reaaalllyyy call u much aside from babe in public, cuz he's a bit more private about showing his love

★not afraid to step up and make it known you're with him tho

★"yeah, my girl's not interested, thank you."

★during texting too like

★almost same as armin in personal pet names like,,,, idk

★u got an embarrassing haircut ONCE he's not letting it go

★"sure, bowl cut, i'll be there soon."

★i mean it's endearing come oooonn

NSFW.

★"you're so good to me, beautiful."

★i'm almost convinced he's all about praising words and names in bed (can u tell i don't like degradation oops)

★making u feel so good about urself cuz that's exactly what he wants

★also something along the lines of

★"go on, pretty thing, i got you."

★such a charmer

★i want 14 of him rn

𐙚MIKASA.

★step back ladies, i got this 🫷🏼😌🫸🏼

★in all seriousness, mommikasa's pretty light on the petnames imo

★she's a softy at heart tho, so she'll definitely call u sumn along the lines of love or sweets

★mostly in the comfort of ur 4 walls tho !!

★such huge emphasis on my GIRLFRIEND when introducing you to someone or talking about u

★wants the people to KNOW you're hers.

★she don't play about u

NSFW.

★lord have mercy

★pretty pretty girl is a force to be reckoned with

★"yeah, gorgeous, you like that?" in her soft voice with that devilish undertone

★settling for the basic baby most of the time tho, cuz it rolls off her tongue so easily when she's with u

★if you're being good, she'll let you know with sumn like "that's my girl." or "you're my pretty girl, yes?"

★again

★BIG👏🏻EMPHASIS👏🏻on the "my" part

𐙚CONNIE.

★this douche is all in always everywhere

★literally only calls u shit because he loves messing with u

★it's his form of affection i promise

★"ey, smelly, come here."

★genuinely, he's so weird

★"pookie, i didn't mean it."

★when ur pissed at something he said

★but he CAN be sweet obviously but only ever with calling you baby

★he's one of the girls when he's texting you like

★"omg bestie tell me"

★or

★"dpwm girl"

★he's so dry but uses memes to even it out

★i adore him actually

NSFW.

★"i told you, beautiful, no touching."

★he's actually really sweet during sex i promise he's not always a dick

★he DOES love u and he's not afraid to show/tell u with touching u in the right places AND with his words

★"keep going, ma."

★also baby baby baby so much baby UGH

★constance springer in my bed this instant

𐙚SASHA.

★mrs.potato girl def calls u anything and i mean anything related to the thing she loves most

★food.

★sugar, pumpkin or cupcake

★she loves food and she loves you so how could she not :(

★i fear sasha forgets ur name sometimes cuz it's so natural for her to call u sweet nicknames instead

★it's pretty much her love language

★as well for pda but that's a topic for another day cuz i will not STOP once i start

★"hey, girlie" when greeting u in a high pitched voice like,,, she's so easy to love bro

★also definitely gorgeous. ure her gorgeous girl.

NSFW.

★pillow princess sasha confirmed👑

★no i mean she can definitely take the lead, there's not really a fixed power dynamic when ur with her, but i feel she most times prefers being taken care of (as she SHOULD)

★main thing she'll call u during the nasty is baby

★depends on what ure into but she's definitely into addressing u as "ma'am"

★also princess :(

★uses ur name more during sex tho!!

★feels it's more intimate and personal that way

★i want to EAT her

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed this veRY self indulgent lil thing aaaand i'll see u beans next time! uuuhbye bye xx

[cloudrumble23]

Puppet girl wanted her to get to know the other ghosts in the pizzeria. To help her "adjust." To prevent corruption from taking over her soul.

Well fine. Cassidy could do that, even feeling the rage boiling under her skin as she considered the thought of anything other than plotting her revenge on their killer. Did the puppet even care? Probably not.

Still, Cassidy could handle it. She could make friends with that quiet kid who never left the suit. Puppet girl hadn't even had a chance to have a conversation with him yet since she was too busy babysitting everybody else to prevent them from corrupting.

The golden suit was crammed far back in the corner anyway. Nobody really seemed to acknowledge it, and Cassidy knew that the puppet girl only knew about it because she'd put Cassidy's soul there. Unintentional companionship, Cassidy thought to herself, squatting down in front of the suit to examine the eyes.

Sometimes there was a faint pinprick of light when she did this. Other times, there wasn't hardly anything to spot. Today was a bad day. She squinted intently, trying to make out the spot of light that she knew was there constantly, but there was no sign.

Resigning herself to actually talking to this kid was maybe not a good idea. He was hard enough to communicate with on a good day, and today was definitely not one of those. Still, Cassidy dove straight into the suit, knowing she'd have to go deep to find the quiet kid who shared the suit with her.

"Are you down here?" Cassidy called, looking around the eerily red space. "Hello?"

She heard a faint sob in response and hurried over to it, seeing him curled up in a ball on the weirdly colored grass.

"Okay," Cassidy sighed, pulling him upright. "What's the deal?"

The boy had his face buried in his hands still, something that continually frustrated Cassidy. They'd encountered each other briefly before, and he never tended to speak. She knew there was the lingering mark of death on his face, a flag of red spilling down an otherwise monochrome appearance.

In life, Cassidy might've even said he was cute, but she didn't have time for such things anymore.

Her fingers looped around his wrists as she adjusted herself to sit in front of him. "Look, I'm not typically the pushy type, but you're the person I know best out of anybody here, and I'm supposed to be making friends so that I don't get corrupted or whatever. Which means you gotta deal with me."

He didn't respond, even as she managed to peel his hands away from his face, revealing thick, oily tears that spilled all the way down his face and coated his hands. Corruption, Cassidy thought suddenly, a chill running through her.

"Okay..." Cassidy exhaled slowly as he peered at her through his eyelashes, briefly distracted from his emotional turmoil.

She swiped at the substance, hoping it was easy to remove, but she ended up smearing it across his face more. "Umm, oops?"

He only blinked at her, seemingly unbothered by the mess.

"Look, I gotta be honest here. This is way out of my range of knowing what I'm doing. And uh... puppet girl says corruption is bad." Cassidy gestured at their hands, coated in corrupted something or other. "And this stuff looks like corruption."

"Oh," the boy answered softly. He glanced at his hands and then at hers. "I'm sorry."

"What? No, you don't need to apologize. We just need to-" Cassidy took a deep breath, something she wished was still helpful. "Okay, why were you crying?"

The boy's mouth thinned, trembling slightly.

"Never mind," Cassidy said quickly. "Could you tell me your name?"

"I... I guess..." he replied, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm... Evan..."

"Okay, Evan." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "I'm Cassidy. I possess Golden Freddy."

"That's not his name," Evan said immediately, his mouth turning down in a frown. Something flickered in his eyes, a memory of some kind. "His name is Fredbear."

"Uh huh." Cassidy didn't know what to make of that. She really did need to talk to the others, didn't she? Clearly, there were many things she didn't know. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I just kinda gave him a nickname, I guess."

"It's alright." Evan clasped his hands together in his lap. "That's a lot of blood."

"Oh, yeah..." Cassidy looked down at her torso, still unimpressed with the fact that the bloodstains had carried through with her death. "It's a symptom of death, I guess."

"Do I... Do I have one of those?" Evan asked, his mouth creasing in worry. "Is it on my face?" His voice seemed to get higher with every realization.

"I-" Cassidy didn't know how to respond as he crumbled into tears again. "Yes? I mean, we all have those. It's okay, don't cry."

Her reassurance didn't seem to get through to him.

"Hey," Cassidy pulled him into an awkward hug, making him tumble half into her lap. "It's not a big deal. Even puppet girl has some bloody marks on her face too. And her neck."

Evan hiccuped. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's something we all deal with. I mean, it still sucks because that's so invasive to just know how other people died, but-"

"At least we're all in it together?" Evan asked, the tears spilling from his eyes no longer dark and inky.

"Yeah." Cassidy tried to smile at him. "We've still all got some stuff we can keep private though, like what we were like when we were alive, but as far as dying and our killer go, we got stuff in common."

"Our killer?" Evan seemed horrified. "He killed other people? Besides me?"

"Yeah? He killed all of us," Cassidy's mouth twitched. "Did you not assume that?"

"I thought it was an accident. He said he was sorry and that it was an accident," Evan started muttering to himself, hyperventilating.

"Okay, I think you need to calm down a little bit-"

"Calm down? We're dead because of him!" Evan's eyes flashed, and the hysteria in his voice increasing as he spoke. "He lied to me!"

The black inky substance was leaking from his eyes again.

"Evan, we all had that feeling of hopelessness that you're feeling right now, and I know it hurts, but please. You'll be corrupted if you don't calm down!" Cassidy felt pressure rising behind her own eyes as she spoke. The threat seemed much more likely now that she was witnessing it happen.

Evan shuddered in her arms as she tried yet again to wipe away the tears. "I'm so bad at this," she said to herself as she continued to make it worse.

"Join the club," Evan whispered, gripping his elbows with what would've been bruising force in life. "I can't ever seem to get anything right, either."

"It looks like I made a finger painting on your face," Cassidy admitted, wrinkling her nose.

Evan huffed out a small laugh. "Probably an improvement to how I looked before."

"Nah, I think you're cute, but I made it worse." Cassidy scoffed.

Evan froze. "You... what?"

"I made it worse?" Cassidy answered with a questioning tone. "Like, I made you cry a bunch, and then I smeared it all over."

"Oh, right. Yeah, that makes sense." Evan shook himself out of something.

"Did you always used to cry this much?" Cassidy asked, suddenly curious. She'd never heard him talk so much, and he was going to probably never do this again.

"Always," Evan said regretfully. "My family hated it. Mikey and Lizzie said I was the crybaby of the family, and they were right. It was so stupid. Mikey told me to 'man up' all the time and be a better older brother to Lizzie, but I just..."

"Your brother sounds like a jerk," Cassidy said.

"He's worse than a jerk, since he killed all of us," Evan huffed, peering up at Cassidy's face.

"Wait, what?" Cassidy frowned, suddenly confused. "Jeez, how long ago did you die?"

"Like... four years ago?" Evan answered, sitting up.

"But..." Cassidy was even more confused. "You seem too young to have died so recently. Like, your brother is a full-grown adult."

"No he isn't." Evan's face wrinkled up. "He was only fourteen when I died, so he wouldn't be older than eighteen right now."

"That makes no sense." Cassidy replied, shaking her head. "I died two years ago, and he killed me while wearing that stupid yellow bunny suit."

"Rabbit suit?" Evan echoed. "No, that wouldn't be Mikey. Mikey hated Spring Bonnie. Father kept trying to convince him to have more interest in the animatronics, but Mikey only cared about Foxy."

"Then..." Cassidy's throat tightened. "We weren't killed by the same person. We couldn't have been, not if you were killed by your brother."

"You were killed by my father," Evan told her, his face twisted in a different kind of sorrow.

He's trying to tell me without making me cry, Cassidy realized. How could anyone end his life like that? Evan was too sweet for his own good, and clearly some people hadn't appreciated him the way they should have.

"How do you know that?"

"He never let anyone else wear that suit, Cassidy. Not unless something changed after I died."

"Oh..." Cassidy didn't know how to feel about that. "So, your brother killed you, huh?"

"It was an accident." Evan stood up. "I don't..."

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Cassidy said quickly. "I was just curious."

Cassidy stood up and glanced around a bit. "Do you ever wonder why everything down here is red?"

"Sometimes," Evan shrugged. "I don't see anything in any other color anyway."

"You... don't?"

"No."

"Have you ever left the suit?" Cassidy asked. "I only ever see you down here."

"I didn't know I could leave." Evan blinked at her.

"Come with me." Cassidy said suddenly. "You have actually been living under a rock, for real. Come see where we are."

"Oh. Okay..." Evan reluctantly followed Cassidy as she made her way out of the suit and back into the real world.

"So, this is Parts and Service." Cassidy gestured at the grungy room filled with broken animatronics.

"Who is this?" Evan asked softly, having walked away from Fredbear to trace a line down Foxy's snout.

"That's Foxy," Cassidy answered, coming to stand by his side. "Fritz doesn't tend to hang out around the suit much, not during the day anyway."

"Wow," Evan said, his voice wavering. "They actually made them all into animatronics?"

"Yeah, there's Freddy, and Foxy, and Bonnie, and Chica. They're a bit rusted out, and now they're just used for parts, but..." Cassidy shrugged. "I mean, the kids go around and have fun during the day, pretending to still be alive."

"You say that like you don't," Evan turned to her, clear tears running down his face. Does he ever stop crying? Cassidy wondered.

"I don't tend to join in. I'm a bit too aggressive for the things they like to do."

"What do you like to do, then?" Evan asked, his hand still resting gently on Foxy's head.

"I don't know. I just don't feel like playing anymore. I don't feel like pretending to be alive when I know we were all murdered, you know?"

"I guess..." Evan blinked. "What if you could help kids who were still alive?"

"Help how?"

"I don't know. Cheer them up when they're down or something, I guess. Like you did with me."

"I wouldn't say I cheered you up," Cassidy scoffed. "You're still crying."

"These are good tears," Evan replied.

"Well, I don't think that would work, in any case. Nobody can see or hear us."

"They can't?" Evan sounded disappointed. "Well, that's..."

"They can see the suits moving, at least," Cassidy offered. "It's just that you can't really communicate, and I've only ever used the suits to scare the security guards."

Evan stroked the fake fur on Foxy's head, not seeming to really be listening anymore. His shoulders drooped and the tears were darkening again.

"Hey, what's up?" Cassidy asked, finding herself reaching for Evan's face yet again to clear up the corrupted tears.

"It's nothing."

"Clearly that's not true," Cassidy pointed out, holding her inky hand in front of Evan's face. "Tell me what's going on."

"I want to see my family again. I guess I was just hoping that I could tell my brother that I forgive him and miss him and-" Evan cut himself off with another sob. "It's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Cassidy replied stubbornly. "I bet we can find a way."

"What if he doesn't even come here, Cassidy? What if he-"

"Foxy's his favorite, you said, right? Well, if that's true, we need to find a way to get him back in commission so your brother comes back. And then we can try to find a way to get communication between you two again."

"Why are you helping me?" Evan asked. He looked so silly with his face all squished like this, but Cassidy couldn't help it.

"Because I'd like to do something good for once," Cassidy whispered. "And I think it'd be nice to see you smile."

"Oh," Evan answered as Cassidy stretched his cheeks up to force his mouth into a makeshift smile. "Hey, stop it!"

Cassidy laughed. "Make me."

Evan swatted at her hand, a short huff of laughter escaping his mouth. "I can't!"

"Then you're stuck! Oh no, how terrible it is to smile again!" Cassidy grinned in his face, finally relenting in time to see him naturally smiling.

He giggled. "You're ridiculous, Cassidy."

And you're adorable, Cassidy thought fondly, surprised by the sudden protective urge that washed over her. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I dunno. Depends on if you're ticklish or not," Evan replied, the silver of his eyes gleaming menacingly as he dug his fingers into his sides.

Cassidy gasped, surprised that the same jolt of nerves she'd always felt when she was alive was still possible as a ghost. "Hey!" She laughed, even as she crumpled forward, tucked into Evan's shirt as she continued to struggle.

"You want to know the best part about this?" Evan asked, grinning down at her. "I don't even have to stop."

He was right, Cassidy realized. She was laughing so hard she couldn't draw breath, but since they were dead, it didn't make a difference. It's crazy how much joy there still is, even after dying, she thought, still struggling to squirm free.

Maybe the puppet girl had been right after all. Cassidy just needed to make some friends.

Or a friend, she thought looking up at the laughing boy who shared the suit with her.

There was still joy after death.

Especially with Evan around.

Thank you to @pixlokita for this adorable piece of fanart for this, by the way!

[anyamaris]

The Long Wait

Summary-When you were finally ready to move on, someone from your past comes back to remind you that you're not quite over him yet.

Word Count-3400+

Genre-Smut/Angst 100% NSFW 18+ Minors DNI!!!

Trope- Exes to lovers?

Pairing-Ex!Seonghwa x f!reader

Warnings- NSFW 18+ Minors DNI, vulgarity, mentions of alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (don't do it) I think that's all?

As always, I get carried away, so oops? Enjoy, please reblog if you like and feel free to leave comments and feedback. They are much appreciated! Thank you for reading my work 💕

NSFW below cut.

It'd been a year.

A whole entire year since you'd seen him.

A whole year since you'd heard his voice last.

His scent had faded. His presence in your immediate life had slowly dwindled, as his things were thrown out, packed up, given to his friends to return to him.

Your heart, on the other hand, was still recovering. Still recovering, but it was still and silent until today. It'd taken months before it had stopped throbbing, the space his absence left finally scarring over. And sometimes, on better days, you could almost ignore the hollow pain of the void left behind.

A whole entire year.

Denial, agony and bitterness flood your mind, your stomach, your eyes as you meet his, staring back from across the crowded room. Those dark eyes that used to be filled with such burning passion for you, now reflecting the displeasure in yours.

The man was a master at the 'look'. He could stare at you for hours, with that soft, sensual look, exuding warmth and admiration. On the other hand, the look in his eyes today was the one you'd never wanted directed at you.

You'd seen him use it plenty on others, when he was irritated or annoyed. But never on you. And your heart stung seeing it directed your way. Those deep brown eyes were severe, fierce and feral, his mouth pulled down into a frown. You struggle to force your gaze from his.

Your affair had ended as passionately and abruptly as it started. The two of you never having put a name to what you were, it was difficult to know where things truly began and ended. The only thing you knew was the barren pit he'd left where your heart had been.

You'd finally started to contemplate meeting others again, putting yourself out there. The exact reason you'd let yourself be convinced by your friends to come out tonight, to this party. To meet some men, to move on and overcome.

At least, you were until you'd met the heated gaze of Park Seonghwa. The man who'd come into your life like whirlwind, who'd shattered your ability to seek out other companionship over the last year. Here he was, one look threatening to tear down all the work you'd put in to yourself.

"Y/n, hey, what's up? What are you-" your friend was saying and then you feel your chin being pulled, your eyes finally leaving the demon across the room. "Oh hellllllll no girl, no no no, don't even look at that man! That sonofabitch didn't tell me he'd be here." your friend spit out, looking around for Wooyoung. He'd invited all of you but he'd failed to mention the guest from out of town.

Watching your friend run at Woo and start smacking him playfully, you sigh and take a sip of your drink. I'll just pretend he's not here. Easy enough, you shrug and force a smile onto your face.

Eventually you find yourself chatting with a few people, getting introduced to some friends of Wooyoung and San, who were hosting the party. You couldn't help but laugh and smile at the antics of the two hosts with their friends. Felix and Changbin, you think, trying to remember names. Felix was adorable, with a bright smile. He made you want to be friends with him. Changbin on the other hand, was definitely your type. Your friend elbowed you when you'd been introduced and had been trying to get you two to talk more to each other for awhile now.

"Y/n! Oh no, I'm out of my drink, and yours is getting low. Can you go make me a new one?" she said and elbowed you for the nth time, causing you to roll your eyes. "Changbin, you know where everything is right, can you help her out?" she asks, fluttering her eyelashes in an exaggerated way. He just smiles and says, "Of course, let's go get some drinks, Y/n."

Glaring back at her ridiculous ploy, you just shake your head as you both head into the kitchen. It's a bit quieter in here and it's empty. "Oof, finally I can talk without yelling." You say and Changbin smiles, going about getting the drinks.

"No kidding, even without the music, so many people here are loud and chaotic. Do you not like loud stuff like this?" He asks and you wave your hand, jumping up to sit on the counter.

"I like my quiet times, but this is fine. It's a lot of fun. Plus I love meeting new people." You say and he grins. "Same, glad I got to meet you tonight." he winks and you feel a bit of a blush. He comes over and hands you your drink then leans against the counter near you.

Wow his arms were...you find yourself biting your lip, then you shake your head. "Uh so.... How long have you known Wooyoung?" You ask, trying to distract yourself from his nearness. He smelled really good too. The man definitely worked out, you think and try again to keep your eyes from wandering.

"Oh, we've known each other for awhile now. I'm more interested in you though..." He says, starting to lean in, but before he can do or say anything else, someone is clearing their throat from the doorway.

"Wooyoung is looking for you, Changbin." You hear and Changbin immediately steps back from you, looking towards the new person. You'd know that voice anywhere and you sigh. You'd managed to forget about him for a brief moment and then here he is. "Cool, thanks Hwa. Talk to you later, Y/n?" he says and gives you a little pinch on your chin before walking out of the kitchen.

Before you can hop down off of the counter, Seonghwa is closing the distance and he's boxing you in, arms on either side of you. Finally looking up at him, you blink at him, suddenly nervous. "Yeah?" you ask him, watching his dark eyes drop to your lip, which you are currently biting. "What were you two talking about in here, alone? Hmm?" He asks, his voice low and you can't help but breathe in to keep from passing out at how close he is. Christ, you'd forgotten his scent but it was so familiar.

"None of your business." You say, pushing him back and hopping down. Irritated at the disadvantage of height this put you at, you huff and turn to leave the room. Then you feel his hand on your arm, pulling you back. "I'm making it my business, Y/n." He says, his voice still low, his eyes penetrating your soul. What the actual fuck, you think.

"The fuck you are." You spit out at him, glaring up at him, returning the intensity of his gaze. His tongue darts out and you can't help but shudder a bit, remembering other things he's done with that tongue. Sneering, you try to push him but he just backs you up against the wall, putting his arm beside your head.

"What...what are you doing?" You ask, your bravado slipping a bit at his sudden nearness. "I should be asking you that, Y/n. You can't even say hi to me?" He asks, and you can feel his breath as he leans towards you more. "Wh-why would I say hi to you?" Your meek attempts at pushing against him just going unnoticed by the bigger man. "HI. Are you happy?" you finally yell at him, frustration making you bold.

"No. I'm not." He says, leaning in to whisper it into your ear.

No, no no no. You weren't going to let him do this to you again. This was how it all started to begin with. This uncontrollable attraction between the two of you. It'd been insane, the way you couldn't control yourselves around each other. It'd driven you mad.

And then it'd destroyed you when he'd just left. Remembering the end, instead of the beginning was a much better tactic. Recall the pain, you think and then you're pushing back against him, making him finally back up. "Good, I don't want you to be happy." You say and then spin on your heel, making your way out of the kitchen finally.

Your friend eyes you as you make your way back over to her, her eyes darkening in worry as she watches Hwa come out of the kitchen behind you. He stops at her glare and decides to go talk to some other people.

"Y/n, are you ok?" She asks, smoothing down your hair. "Yeah...yeah I'm fine." You say, shaking your head and downing your drink. "What the hell did he say to you? Did he tell you why he just disappeared all of a sudden finally?" Shaking your head, you put up your hand. "Nope and I don't care anymore. I just want to drink and have fun." You say and she cheers, "That's the spirit!" dragging you off to find the others.

A bit later you find yourself opening the back door, needing to get some fresh air. Everyone was having a good time, listening to music, talking, drinking. Every time you attempted to talk to anyone, you'd notice Seonghwa out of the corner of your eye and it just made you tense up. You'd had a little bit more to drink than you'd intended so getting some fresh air was the best idea you had at the moment.

Walking along the pavestone path, you make your way into the little garden. It was a pretty backyard, lots of trees just beyond the garden and you find yourself staring off into the night. It was quiet out here, the sounds from inside far away. It was a bit chilly, but the cool air helped clear your head.

Why now? You keep thinking, Why was he here now? Where did he even go? The questions you'd been trying to tell yourself you didn't want to know kept circling in your mind. Sighing, you kick at the ground with your toe.

"Aren't you cold?" You hear, and frown as the man in your head materializes in front of you. Seriously? You think and sigh. "Are you stalking me or something, Seonghwa?" you say and he laughs softly.

"Something like that." he says back and you can't think for a moment. Every time you try to act like you don't care, he just....does his stupid Hwa shit. "Well, don't." you say back after a moment and he sighs, walking closer to you. "Why not?" he asks, and you find yourself reacting to him yet again as he closes the distance.

"Because I don't want you to! God, you found it so easy to leave before, why can't you stay gone?" you yell before you can think and you wrap your arms around yourself, turning your back to him. "You want me to stay gone?" He asks softly from behind you and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Yes...no.....fuck.....just...." you shake your head and then you feel his arms go around you from behind.

"I don't want to." He says softly into your ear and for a moment, you lean back into him. The leather of his jacket cool against your skin, the puffs of breath warm on your neck. Then your eyes snap open and you're shaking him off.

"Well I don't give a fuck what you want, Park Seonghwa. You. Are. Not. Doing. This. To. Me. Again." you say as you spin on him, closing the distance but this time pointing a finger in his face. His eyes flash and you don't back down. You hate that you have to look up at him but goddamnit, you were going to say what you needed to and be done with it.

"You fucking left, without a goddamn word, for a fucking year. A FUCKING YEAR. I GOT OVER YOU, YOU COMPLETE ASSHOLE. Do not come back here, acting like you didn't just disappear and rip my fucking heart out. I don't even know if we were dating, but there I was, losing my goddamned mind over you while you went off to god knows where!!!"

"I didn't have a choice, it's complicated. You got over me?" he asks and you blink, not expecting this. "Complicated? It doesn't matter!" You say, throwing up your hands. You turn to walk back farther into the yard, trying to get away from him, but he is following you.

"There were some issues I had to deal with. And I was-" he starts and you spin on him again. "Why are you even telling me? You didn't even contact me. You made it obvious that I didn't matter. Why are you following me?!" you yell as he closes the distance again.

Grasping your wrist as you are pointing at him again, he pulls you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. "You did-you do matter, Y/n." he says, burying his face into your hair, inhaling you. "What the fuck, stop being a creep." You say but you're melting into him and your arms betray you as they reach out to grab onto his shoulders. "No." is all he says and then you feel his lips on your neck.

"Hwa...." you gasp out and his arm tightens around you. "I've missed you calling me that." he breathes onto your neck and you feel your head fall back for a moment, before your hand goes into his hair and pulls his head back forcefully.

"Fuck you!" You say into his shocked face and then his eyes cloud as his mouth drops onto yours, silencing the next expletive about to come out. "You're so fucking hot when you're mad." he says into your mouth and then you're opening to him, his tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip. Your hand is still pulling at his hair, but now you're meeting his tongue with your own, letting your frustration channel into the kiss. He pulls back as you bite his lip and sucks his lip in as he gasps. "Oh my fucking god, Y/n, you're making me crazy." He rasps out and then he's picking you up, backing you up into the large tree behind you.

Your legs go around his waist before you can even think, his hands cupping your ass to hold you up and his mouth is back on yours, nipping you back. "Hwa, what the fuck," you moan and then he's trailing kisses down your neck. "Hmmm." is his only reply and you're pulling his head back by his hair again.

He just stares at you intensely and you glare at him.

"I matter?" you ask.

"You matter so much." he answers.

"Why did you leave?"

"I didn't have a choice."

"Why didn't you contact me?"

"I was a coward."

"Why didn't you come back?"

"I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"How much I ....." he says and then he's kissing you again.

"Why now?!" You manage to ask as one of his hands finds its way between your legs, cupping you through your panties. You feel shame at how wet you already were but he'd always made you this way, even without touching you. And the way he was touching you now was so much more intense than you'd ever seen him.

"Because...because....." he is saying, his fingers finding their way underneath the fabric of your panties and then he's sliding one of his fingertips against your sensitive clit. "FUCK!" you gasp out and he moans your name, sliding another finger into your folds, prodding at your entrance. "Hwa...." you moan with him as he slides one of his long fingers into you.

"Baby.....fuck you're so....." he gasps as you clench tightly around his digit. "...tight oh fuck..." he manages and you tilt your head back to look at him.

"Tell me why." You say and he stares at you, not taking his eyes off of you as he slides another finger inside of you.

Doing your best to maintain the eye contact, you feel yourself stretch around his fingers as he slowly slides them in and out of you. "Tell....me...." you moan out and he is flicking his tongue out, licking his lips as he watches your face.

"Because I need you."

"You do?" you ask, not taking your eyes off of his.

"Yes....Y/n....I need you...I want you....I don't want anyone else to touch you...I can't handle....thinking of you....with anyone else...." he's panting.

"The thought of another man....." he growls and his mouth is on yours again. A third finger slips into you, and you let out a gasp and moan.

"Fuck Hwa....you're the only...oh my god...please..."

He stops and pulls his head back, his eyes boring into yours, his fingers still inside of you.

"I'm the only?" he prods and you gasp and nod.

"Noone else...has touched me...since... you...." you manage and his eyes flash then his mouth is on yours again, this time more aggressively. "Mine-" he moans, and suddenly his fingers are sliding out of you.

You let out a cry at the loss but then he's freeing himself from his pants and pushing into you, replacing his fingers with his hard cock. Moaning loudly you grip him harder, your hands tugging at his hair and his jacket. "Hwa!!!" you yell and he's thrusting into you. "Mine....you're mine...." he's moaning and then his mouth is on your neck, nipping and sucking, definitely leaving a mark.

"Yes!" and "Hwa oh my god!" seem to be the only words you can manage and then he's easing the both of you down into the soft grass, propping himself above you. "Sorry...." he's panting above you, his hips still moving, slowly pulling back to slide into you again. "This...isn't the...most romantic..." he's saying and you reach up to pull him down to you, your mouth on his and he's moaning again.

"I missed how you taste, Y/n." he says as he moves down to your neck and he slides his hand under your shirt, pulling down your bra. You arch your back as he tweaks your hard nipple and he groans, starting to pick up the pace, thrusting into you harder.

"So fucking tight, fuck-" he's saying, making you whimper with how hard he's starting to fuck you. It'd been so long but your body was responding to his every touch, kiss and word. "Hwa, fuck....oh fuck....Hwa you're.....I can't-" you are gasping out and your body is shaking. His arm slides under your leg and pulls it up over his shoulder, managing to go even deeper. The orgasm you'd felt building explodes as he buries himself inside of you, holding himself deep, rocking his hips and holding your body down with his as you climax around him.

'F--fuck.....yes! Oh god, Y/n....your pussy feels so fucking good." "Hwa please......" you're whimpering, pulling at him. "One more time for me baby, give me one more..." he's saying, finally pulling back and thrusting forward, ripping a cry from your throat. You've barely recovered from coming and he was pumping into you again, his words turning into low groans and growls as he looks down at you. "Mine. You're mine. Never again, noone else." he was panting between moans and you could feel his hips start to stutter the way he did when he was close to cumming.

"Hwa...Hwa yes, I'm yours...cum for me....cum inside of me.....cum cum cum!" You start yelling as his breath start hitching. "Cumming...cumming baby....oh fuc- fuck! OH FUCK!" he cries out, spilling himself deep inside of you, causing you to clench around him and your hips lift from the power of your second orgasm.

Before you can even breathe again, he's letting your leg down gently and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face into your neck and holding you. Your hands go into his hair and you feel a tear slip down your face. Too overwhelmed to care, you just lay there with him as minutes pass.

"Mine." he mumbles and then tilts his head back to look down at you. "Mine." he says again, leaning down to kiss your lips gently. He brings his lips to your cheek, kissing the tear you'd felt.

"I'm sorry." He says, kissing your cheeks, your eyes, your lips. "I have alot of explaining to do, but you always mattered. But I'll answer your earlier question now."

You stare up at him, waiting.

"I came back because..."

He sighs and cups your face.

"I love you."

@veronicasawyerschainsaw @shinestarhwaa @cultofdionysusnet

[cyberrose2001]

I got this headcanon or fanfic idea I wanted to see again, of optimus prime with a chubby reader who is always very shy or timid trying to avoid getting op's attention after the leader himself decided to be their guardian, they would do that by just acting like some bg character ,their own business in their own spot,but always liking to look at Optimus, admiring him, having this nice feeling.

Optimus always questioned and wondered why after they came ,why they where the one to be less interacting, always on thr corner wacthing everything while playing with their fingers, and with now him being their guardian, he could have a better chance to talk to them and know more of them

I always find chubby reader stuff so cute ^^, it can be any gender , I got a little carried away with my mind

TFP Optimus x chubby!GN!reader

"I perceive that you are going through some inner conflict." Optimus continues to speak softly, "If it is any consolation to you, you are free of judgement whilst you are with me."

(I'm running out of gifs to use oop-)

This one was such a pleasure to write due to my own experience, I am always willing to write chubby readers and the fluff that ensues <3

Warnings: SFW, fluff, chubby reader.

Word count: 1071

You've been the quiet type for as long as you can remember, opting to observe everyone and everything around you. You had always told yourself it was by choice that your feelings towards yourself had no influence on your interactions with others and that you were only shy. But ultimately, you've always felt self-conscious about what others think, often comparing yourself to the more extroverted individuals and their confidence in striking up conversations with strangers. You wish you had that confidence, but no matter how hard you try, you get tongue-tied and retreat to a safe space, usually away from prying eyes.

But sometimes, the prying eyes find you again, particularly one gorgeous pair of blue optics that belong to your guardian. Of course, you try your best to hide from him due to his large stature and commanding yet gentle voice. Still, over time you found yourself catching glances with Optimus more often, and when you did, he always gave you a soft smile.

Optimus Prime was a very observant bot by nature; it came with his job being both the leader of the Autobots and an expert ex-archivist. He had only been your guardian for a few months. Still, he has picked up on the differences between the personalities of the other humans and you. Optimus is familiar with the others, being loud and at least somewhat interactive. Still, he had never met a quiet and timid human like you. It made him wonder why you acted so that you would retreat to the room's corners and avoid all contact with everyone.

Well, all verbal contact, at least. Optimus had noticed your increasing stares directed at him. He decided to pull you aside to try and talk to you, hidden away in his berthroom. Hence, the conversation is private but also in hopes of making you feel more comfortable. He still noticed you fidgeting with your fingers and absentmindedly picking at the corners of your fingernails. Optimus knew this was a self-soothing tactic and a clear indicator that you were anxious about talking with him. So, Optimus reached his servos down to ever pry your hands away so gently from each other to prevent more scratches that tattered your delicate skin.

"I must ask," Optimus runs a digit across your wrist. He can feel the goosebumps along with your hair standing on end. Optimus needs to speak quietly to be as un-intimidating to you as possible, "Why must you avoid speaking to me?"

It was a simple question to most, but you struggle to find the words yet again, and you can feel the familiar knot in the back of your throat. Optimus senses your inability to speak and gently squeezes your wrist to bring you back to the present moment.

"I perceive that you are going through some inner conflict." Optimus continues to speak softly, "If it is any consolation to you, you are free of judgement whilst you are with me."

Optimus is surprised to find a quiet voice piercing through the cold air of his room. Your voice is so soft-spoken that Optimus had to strain his audio receptors to hear what you were saying.

"I'm sorry, Optimus." You breathe out, unsure what to say next or how to relay your emotions. You are not used to laying your feelings bare for anyone to see, "I just worry about how people see me."

Optimus gives you a gentle nod in encouragement and understanding; this was about your self-esteem regarding your body. He understood that humans have a specific preference for body types. It not only confused him, but he found it rather foolish that, for their very short lifespan, they chose to spend it tearing other people down. But, of course, Cybertronians are quite the opposite. For the most part, his kind has moved past such trivial matters. But what does Optimus expect from a species so young with so much to learn?

"Has someone made you feel this way?" Optimus encourages you to open up to him further. Of course, someone had to or Optimus would not think you would feel this way. He believes you are beautiful and endearing despite your lack of attention towards him.

You trace the seams of his servos with your fingers to distract yourself more. Optimus' lingering servo still wrapped around your wrist, and if you were honest, it was causing your heart to race. You pray that Optimus hasn't noticed, "Many people have. They say that nobody can love someone like me."

"And that is the reason why you avoid us? For fear of judgement, is that correct?" Optimus listens intently.

"Yep..." You pull your knees as much as you can up to your chest and hug them, "I also feel like I have nothing to offer. Jack, Miko and Raf all have unique talents, and I can't even talk to someone without becoming a nervous wreck."

Optimus pauses for a moment, his glowing optics flickering over your form. He feels thrilled because this is the most extended conversation ever with you, and he appreciates that you feel comfortable enough to confide in him. However, he doesn't let his excitement show and continues using a soft voice.

"Y/n," He gently whispers your name. Then, he squeezes your hands softly, "Do you know why I have chosen you to be my charge?"

You shake your head, enjoying the pressure of his servos on your wrists, "No, not really."

"It is due to how much you remind me of myself before I was a Prime and an archivist." Optimus lets a servo trail up your arm to rest on your shoulder, "I was exactly like you, and I have reason to believe that you will accomplish extraordinary things one day. So do not allow other people to drag you down."

"And, to the people who believe you are unworthy of love because of your outward appearance." Optimus brings a digit to your plump cheek, "They could never be more wrong."

Optimus Prime's words of love and appreciation made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. You felt a smile creep onto your lips for the first time in a long time. For now, you knew that as long as you had Optimus as a guardian, you were safe. You could feel secure knowing no one would ever hurt or treat you poorly again.

[boxfullaturtles]

Leonardo and Mechanical failure maybe?

Leo knows better than to fuck around and find out when it comes to Donatello's lab.

That doesn't stop him from waltzing in like he owns the place.

Donnie's elbow deep in his latest project and the back of his neck prickles when Leo leans into his space.

"Hey Doooooonnnnniiieee~ Whatcha workin' on?"

Donnie tilts his head up to scowl at Leo, one hand with a fistful of wires and the other clutching his tools, "I'm making a chamber to stress test my battle shells. What do you want, Nardo?"

"Ooooohhh, sounds cool. Does it shoot lasers?" Leo skips around the side of the chamber. The chamber is tall and rectangular, like a jumbo-sized phone booth, with thick glass on the door and two of the walls. The back wall, the wall Donnie's facing as he works, is solid metal.

"No," Donnie's reply is clipped with irritation but vague with distraction as he dives back into his work, "Mostly blunt force. Some lacerations. Other…stuff. Stay out of it, nothing's calibrated yet."

He barely catches Leo's sing-song, "Oops~" Before there's a mechanical whir and then a bang.

Donnie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes to the heavens, and gets to his feet to lean around the booth and see what mess Leo has created. His frown turns into a look of alarm when he sees Leo has managed to shut himself inside the machine.

"Leo! What did I just say!? Why can't you ever listen to me!?" Donnie yanks on the door, trying to break the seal, but it refuses to budge, "This is dangerous! It's not ready for testing! You idiot!"

Leo is saying something back, shrugging and showing his hands and cocking a brow at Donnie. But all that can be heard are muffled sounds, the glass too thick to make anything out. The ceiling of the booth whirs open and mechanical arms descend to grab at Leo. He dodges as best he can, his smarmy look now one of concern and a little bit of fright. But there's not a lot of room and they get a hold of him eventually, hoisting him into the air by his shoulders and leaving him kicking and swinging helplessly.

"No, no, no, no!" Donnie frantically types at his wrist tech and gets a string of errors for his trouble. Panic setting in, he dives around the back of the machine again to try and find a way to stop it. If he does this wrong he could electrocute Leo, or leave him trapped in the booth, or something even worse.

There's a dull thud from the booth and Donnie freezes with a group of wires in his trembling hand.

Another thud.

And another.

Donnie trips over his feet as he runs back around the front, breathing too fast, heart pounding too hard. He knows what he'll likely find, but it doesn't stop him from being horrified.

Leo, suspended in the air, gritting his teeth with every blow the machine swings into his shell. It's doing what it's supposed to do; stress testing. But it was meant for Donnie's metal battle shells, not for a turtle carapace, and each blow is going to get heavier and harder and more deadly for Leo.

The thick, steel bar swings down and smashes into Leo's shell. Donnie can see tiny shards of Leo's scutes splinter into the air from the strike. Leo's mouth opens in a soundless cry.

It's going to get worse. After the blunt force came the knives and wires meant to lash and scrape and scratch. And then the drills and spikes.

Donnie can't let it get that far.

If he can't get Leo out, his own machine is going to mangle his brother. And then nothing will be able to save Leo.

[fridamoss]

Is This The Love (That I'm Feelin'?) Bob Floyd X Loot (PART 4)

Archive of Our Own // Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Summary: Bob & Loot get in a boat. They have a talk!

Warnings: Curses, boners, fluff.

Word count: 3,559

‘He’s sweet and I’m seeing him again today.’ You were pacing the almost threadbare rug in your apartment, biting your thumb nail as the familiar calming voice on the other end of the line helped you through your panic.

‘I should tell him, he should know.’ Across the rug and back again, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

‘Then tell him, if he’s worth it, he’ll understand.’

You let your hand fall to your side, stepping toward your reflection. ‘I think…I hope he is. I mean, I think he will understand.’

‘From what you’ve told me I’m guessing he’s a good dude, I wanna date him.’ 

Huffing a laugh, you actually caught yourself smiling, just thinking of him, Bob, he was almost your Bob. Just one more thing, one more hurdle.

‘I wanna date him, I need that.’

‘You deserve it,’ your friend spoke clearly, knowing you fully deserved any happiness that you could cling on to. 

‘We both do, huh?’ 

Sighs book-ended, a silence settling. ‘Go have fun. Call me, whatever happens.’

You promised before hanging up. Running your fingers through your hair, gripping your scalp and squeezing your eyes shut. In a few hours, you’ll see Bob. Everything would be cool, he was solid, despite the shyness that seemed to render him speechless at times. 

It was hot as hell outside, the air con was rattling louder than a street-car, you needed to get the damn thing looked at. A notification popped up on the phone still in your hand. 

Bob: I packed lunch, you just gotta bring yourself. 

Excitement was creeping into your bones, replacing the worry that had stopped you getting a good nights sleep. Were you even a good person? Bob deserved the best. You wanted so desperately for that to be you.

Bob was waiting for you on the dock. You spotted him right away, his hand was shielding his eyes, looking out to sea. Khaki shorts and pristine white socks. The man looked put together, as always. You imagined his living space; a place for everything and everything in its place. 

‘Hey, you!’ 

He turned quickly, as if he was surprised by you showing up. Cracking a big smile he waved awkwardly, ‘hey, you.’

Stepping up to him, only a couple of inches shorter, you reached up and pressed a kiss to his mouth. It lingered for a moment, until he made that ‘mmm’ sound. Big hands settled on your arms, fingers wrapping around you, holding fast. 

At least you were alone, just two of you on the dock in the late afternoon sunshine, water sloshing softly against the side of the boat. 

You don’t remember when your fingers had started tugging at the roots of his hair, or your other hand squeezing gently at his ribs. 

Bob sighed, ‘you gotta stop squeezing me.’ Noses touching, eyes closed.

‘I’m ticklish,’ he admitted, grinning. 

You wanted to pull away, tell him that you wanted to talk, but these kisses were so good, his touches were gentle but demanding. He must have felt the tension a little, he gave your lips a quick kiss and squinted at you. ‘All good, Loot?’ 

‘Yeah, all good, Bob.’ You couldn’t, not now. 

Taking your hand, he lifted his heavy backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Though he was tall and slim, you could see he had that hidden strength, the type of strength when a man will lift something ridiculously heavy and not even flinch. No macho shit either. You really fucking hated that.

Bob threw his bag down into the boat with a loud thunk, grimacing when he realised there were bottles of beer in there. ‘Oops.’ 

You laughed, making him crack another smile that made you wanna jump his bones right there.

‘Hop in, m’lady.’ Bob held you steady as you stepped down safely. The boat jiggled and righted itself as Bob climbed in behind you.

‘Ok, off we go.’ 

Bob felt his cheeks aches from how much he was smiling, being out with you on the calm waters. There really was no need to go too far out, you could still see people milling about on the shore. That was just perfect. A bottle of beer was standing between your feet, both hands wrapped around your sandwich, you didn’t realise how hungry you were. 

Neither of you had eaten today, both anxious for different reasons.

Bob had butterflies in his stomach, things were going so well that he though maybe tonight you could take it a little further. In Bob’s mind, that was you coming back to his and showing you his record collection, and most definitely staying the night so he could be big spoon and feel you sleep next to him. 

He had bought eggs, just in case you liked eggs for breakfast.

‘What’re you doin’ later,’ he blurted, imagining his fingertips running across the top of your shirt, the small bit of cleavage on show for him. Coz it was for him. 

‘I was hoping we could hang out, talk some.’ You gulped the last of the cold beer. 

‘Sure we can, I’d like that. And next weekend?’ He pressed.

You raised a brow at him, just as you did the first night you’d come to talk to him at the party.

Before you could answer, Bob held out his hand to take yours, fingers intertwining across your lap. His thumb was gliding gently back and forth across the back of your hand.

The look in his eye had you melting, there was a chance you would leave your physical body and turn into water vapour that rises from the wooden fences in the morning sun, just like that memory of your child hood that would come back to you in flashes. You started. Making him almost pull his hand away until you gripped it a little harder than you meant.The look of pure hope and lust that had been on his face was eclipsed by concern.

‘Am I movin’ too fast?’ Bob whispered. 

‘No, you’re not. Maybe a little slower than I’d like but I wanna enjoy this.’ You brought his hand to your lips, kissing each knuckle while he watched, his mouth slack. He near leaped across the gap between you and let his mouth find yours in a fevered, searing kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the beer in your mouth. 

‘Is this somewhere in the middle?’ Bob took a breath before attacking your mouth again, unwinding your entangled fingers, he placed his hands high on your ribs, bracketing your breasts. Both of you were twitching and trying to reposition yourselves to be closer, but how much of you could touch in this tiny, awkward row boat?

Shifting your butt off the ledge, you sank down into the belly of the boat, letting Bob climb over you. ‘Bob, you are so fucking sexy.’ You gasped, feeling his tongue on your neck, sucking softly down your throat, you could feel his mouth turn into a smile as he continued kissing down to the top of your breasts, his nose drew a line through your cleavage. A piece of hair fell loose, tickling your overheated skin. ‘Should I stop?’ Bob’s voice was muffled, his face pressed into the soft swell of your tits.

‘Hell no. And just for the record, I think you’re a gentleman.’ 

Bob’s hands moved achingly slow, you willed him to hurry up and start squeezing you, grind against you, anything, you’d take anything! 

Your breathy moans were sending him to the edge, he could feel you writhing underneath him within the confines of the boat and you felt so damn good. 

‘Loot, if you keep grinding against me I don’t think I can be gentlemanly much longer.’ He tasted the skin under your ear, tongue on your pulse. 

You were pulling at his hair, fuck he’d cum in a minute if this didn’t stop.

He really didn’t wanna cum in his shorts like the desperate little teenager he’d been. It was so easy to bring him to the edge with some praise, he wanted to be good for you, honestly, he wanted to be the best version of himself for you.

‘These beer bottles are digging into my back. Do you think we could take this some place else?’

Bob nodded, breathing heavily, willing for the ache in his cock to subside. Somewhat glad that you had expressed discomfort, otherwise he would have been ok taking you right here, the thoughts of your warm heat around him, squeezing his cock, hands on his ass….he was almost there. 

‘Fuck, ok, ok.’ Bob moved away from you, sitting back on his heels, watching you squirm around until you sat back on the ledge. 

You could see the bulge at the front of his pants. 

Bob’s face was flushed and he was looking anywhere but at you. Fuck, was he embarrassed.

‘Hey, I want you, I do.’

‘I know,’ he choked on an attempt to laugh. ‘Clearly I want you too. I think I….I think I always have. Since, you know, seeing you on base, a while back.’

‘I just didn’t think you’d ever see me.’ 

‘I most definitely did, I noticed those piercing blue eyes watching me every morning in the hallway.’

Bob put his hands on his knees, looking out across the water again. He didn’t want to look at you just yet. He wanted to be vulnerable and tell you exactly what he wanted, but what if you didn’t feel the same? In all honesty, Bob knew it would take him a lifetime to get over you, even after two and a half dates, he counted the making out in a the closet as a half date.

You could see he was still hard and you were aching to reach out and touch him, make him feel good. wanting to see his head thrown back in pleasure, mouth open and whining while you jerked him off.

‘Bob,’ your calm voice belied the fire in your soul. 

Finally, he turned his face to look at you. ‘Let’s get back to shore.’ 

‘Are you finishing the date early? I’m sorry if I took it too far.’ Bob swallowed hard, feeling like he would cry if you never wanted to see him again.

‘Hell no. I would like to get back and get out of this heat. Coz you are looking like a tall, cold glass of water right now.’

Bob pursed his lips, trying and failing not to laugh. ‘Well, thank you.’

Neither of you took your eyes off each other while Bob rowed back, muscles easing and tensing as he pulled the oars through the water. 

Neither of you spoke while he tied up the boat and you hopped up onto the dock with his backpack against your chest. 

Nothing on this earth would burst this bubble of want between you right now. You had to have him, he was gonna be your Bob from this moment. 

His quiet intensity mirrored yours.

‘Come on,’ he said eventually, holding out his hand. You took it, moving closer so your hips were touching while you walked. 

‘Mine or yours?’ Bob squeezed your hand while you considered. 

‘Mine.’ That was it then, the finality, he could always walk out if he didn’t like what you wanted to say.

Your air conditioning unit rattled to life while Bob took in your small living room. You had set up mood lights in nearly every free space but it was neat, tidy, girly. A fluffy cushion peeking out under a crochet blanket on the back of your armchair. Everything was set up for you, it was perfectly you. 

There were a few framed photos on the wall next to him. One was you with your graduating class from the Navy. Most were who he presumed were your friends, no one looked like you; no family. Bob scratched his chin, curious. 

‘Come sit by me,’ you laid your hand out on the cushion next to you. 

Bob settled in, moving so you could fit in next to him. And you did, you moulded in to the parts of him you fit so nicely in to while he stroked your hair and kissed your forehead. 

‘This is nice,’ he whispered sleepily. The heat of the day was catching up to you both.

‘Wanna go for a nap?’ You suggested, putting off ‘the talk’ for as long as you could. 

Bob’s eyes were puffy, a lazy grin on his face while he nodded in agreement and let you lead him to your bedroom.

Bob kicked off his shoes while you crawled up toward the pillows, opening your arms out so he could join you.

‘Uhm, is this a pants off kinda nap?’ Bob fiddled with the waistband of his shorts. 

‘Yeah, I think it’s a pants off kinda nap,’ you agreed, lifting your hips off the bed to pull off your own cut offs. 

Bob shuffled out of his, revealing a tight pair of black boxer briefs, his bulge was mouth watering. You sneaked a quick look as he shifted closer to you on the bed. He didn’t have an erection but boy, just looking at that bulge you knew he had a monster between his legs.

After a moment of smiling and not saying anything at all, he inched closer, throwing his arm around you, kissing you gently. The heated passion had dissipated for now. There were long, sweet kisses and breathing in each other before his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep, hands clasped.

You’d slept for maybe an hour before you jolted awake, Bob was still sleeping, his mouth open a little. Was it creepy to lay here and just look at him? In all surety you knew you wanted to do that for the rest of your life.

Sneaking from the bedroom you used the bathroom and checked your face, it was a little hot from the sun earlier but no damage done. You moisturised, brushed your hair and used some mouth wash before slipping back into bed next to Bob, who reached out for you immediately.

‘Where’d you go?’ His voice raspy with sleep.

‘Just to get pretty for you.’

‘You’re always pretty,’ he said, pressing his mouth into your neck. Lifting his head from the pillow suddenly, eyes wide. ‘I gotta pee real bad.’

You giggled as he hopped up, looking to you with panic in his eyes as you pointed to where your bathroom was. 

He returned with relief on his face. 

‘I hope you don’t mind I used some mouthwash.’ Bob bounced up onto the bed, full of the joys of spring, smiling down at you. 

‘I wanna kiss you some more, if you’d allow it.’ You were both a little giggly, being here together, with less clothes.

‘I will allow it, Lieutenant Floyd.’

Bob melted into you, kissing you slowly at first, breathing heavily as your tongues started to move against each other. His hand was resting on your hip for a time, you felt him moving slowing down until he began palming at your ass. An exhale became a groan, a sound so sinful from you that he doubled down on his groping. 

Lips messily finding someplace to land on exposed flesh, the symphony of your breaths was filling the small space around you. Like they were always meant to be heard that way.

‘Bob, stop.’ Your hand met his chest and pushed him, just slightly. 

His stomach dropped. ‘Ok.’ It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he could wait, he didn’t want to force you into anything.

‘I need to tell you something,’ sitting up and wrapping your arms around your knees you waited for him to adjust himself and sit up, a crease between his eyebrows as he studied your face.

‘What is it? You can tell me anything?’ 

A whole host of things crossed his mind at that moment. 

You’d never done it before, you wanted to wait til marriage, you didn’t like him that much, you never wanted to see him again.

The blood rushed around his head, mouth drying up as he heard you say it.

‘Bob… I’m married.’

How could that be? He’d never seen you with anyone, there was no ring, no man living here, no wedding photographs. No one on on base had even warned him. 

You could see the shock wash over him, it broke your heart. He was clenching his jaw, his eyes darting around the room but looking at nothing at all. Absorbing that horrid piece of information you wished in that moment wasn’t true, that it was a bad joke. 

‘You..’ he started, clamming up. ‘Why didn’t you tell me before…’ He wanted to say before I fell for you.

Why would you lead him on like this? You felt like the worst person in the world. He looked so fucking betrayed.

‘I’m legally married, I have to tell you that. But I’m not married for any other reason other than it was for convenience…protection.’

A look of understanding replaced the pinched concern, it dawned on him.

‘Your upbringing? The cult?

You just nodded. 

He got up from the bed, the boner he’d been working on was long dead. There was nothing Loot could say right now to bring that back. Pacing, he ran his hand through his hair, across the stubble starting on his cheeks. Everything had been so perfect. 

He’d thought you were the one, you were it for him. It was crumbling, the walls collapsing in on him.

‘Bob, I wanted to tell you from the get-go but you were so perfect, I didn’t want to spoil it, I didn’t want you to tell me no straight away.’

‘So you wanted to toy with me a bit?’ Bob narrowed his eyes, no one knew how quickly Bob could spit venom if someone started fucking with him.

‘Never. That was never my intention. It was a marriage to protect me when I left home. My family has a fucked up sense of ownership.’

‘So your husband owns you? Is he gonna burst though that front door and beat the hell outta me for fucking with his wife?’

His words stung. It was bound to happen, you’d hoped he’d understand right away. But he didn’t, who would? 

‘It’s not like that, I will explain if you want to hear it.’

‘Fuck me,’ Bob felt the tears springing to his eyes, he’d let them fall, he needed them to. This hurt. 

There was silence between you, the only sounds were the struggling whirs of the air conditioner in the next room and Bob trying to breathe. He was trying to calm himself; eyes squeezed shut, hands over his ears. 

‘Do you wanna sit?’ Your voice was sad. So fucking sad, Bob thought. But he looked you like you were the last person in the world he would want to sit with. Like you just punched his grandma.

He held your gaze for a minute before grabbing his shorts from the floor. 

Usually you were strong, you could keep yourself together out of pride, you never liked anyone seeing you vulnerable. So you bit the inside of your cheek and just watched him dress. His hair had come loose from your hands, it sat across his forehead, covering his ears when he finally relaxed his hands and turned to you.

‘I just need to think about this, Loot. I’m sorry.’ 

You nodded. He disappeared without a kiss or a touch or even a backwards glance. 

Before you started to cry, you found your phone in your shorts and clicked call next to David’s name.

‘Well?’ He didn’t answer with a hello.

‘He freaked out a bit and left.’ Your shoulders slumped.

‘Oh sweetie, I’m sorry.’ He really did sound it.

You spent an hour on the phone, pacing, biting your nails. You hadn’t bothered putting your shorts back on. ‘I never date anyone on base, this is why! Now I have to go back to work on Monday and see him and he won’t look at me in the hallway like he always does. Fuck!’ 

David tried is best to be a good friend and listen, he even suggested you go find him and explain the situation, if he’d listen. You were both sure Bob would listen. 

Just as you were going to find some new clothes to wear, there was a knock at the door.

David was playing out the whole scenario for you, what to say, when to pause for Bob’s reactions when you pulled open your front door.

‘Sorry David, I gotta go, Bob is standing on my front step with flowers.’

You blindly thumbed at the hang up button and blinked at Bob.

‘Sorry, I ran out.’ His hair was still a mess. You wanted to kiss him silly. ‘I’m hell-bent on loving you, please tell me what my chances are.’

His eyes were shining, he had cried, you could tell and you wanted him so bad because of it. Bob walked into the living room when you stepped aside to let him in.

‘Loot, you’re not wearing any pants.’ He chuckled despite the tightness in his chest. 

That’s a good sign, you thought.

[mars101]

Act 10: -> Scene 3: "What do you want me to do now?"

WRITTEN PART -> (0.4k) -> ss after text

Younghoon's words saying “I still love you” went in through one ear and out the other. Y/n didn't process it at first. She didn't want to process it at all.

“You what?”

“Y/n, I love you.”

If it were the past, Y/n would find herself running into his arms and waiting to be spun around. But twenty years have passed.

“No. Younghoon, why are you doing this? What gives you the right to just come back and say this to me, expecting me to run into your arms?”

“I know that wouldn't have happened because things always change. People change but—”

“Feelings change too, Younghoon.”

“Mine haven't. You've always been in the back of my mind. Only coming out when my eyes are closed and my free thoughts roam about.”

Younghoon takes a chance with a single step forward. Taking another when he sees Y/n not making a move away from him.

“And Y/n it's looks like your feelings haven't strayed considering you're still on this island—” At his words Y/n takes a step back and puts her hands up to create space.

“I'm sorry? I'm still on this island because I made a living for myself here. Not because I'm waiting for some man from an old fling to come back for me.” She notices a splash of hurt glaze across his eyes but continues, “Okay? And I am doing really well by myself, with my daughter too! We don't need some—some middle-aged man to come around and tell us what to do.”

“Y/n please just listen—”

“No you listen here. Please just give me space to think.”

“About us?” Younghoon says with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

“There’s isn't an us, Younghoon. Not since you left to get married—” A raise of the ring finger startles Y/n; she thought she was seeing a different finger for a second.

“Divorced her not even five months after the wedding. My parents never really knew my type. And there was someone on my mind 24/7 anyway.”

Heavy uncontrolled sighs leave Y/n, and she grabs a nearby chair to sit on. “What do you want me to do now?”

“Think.” Then he faces the other way, deciding to leave Y/n with her thoughts like she wanted.

synopsis = a day before her wedding day, Yin decides to find her father so he can walk her down the isle, the problem? There's three candidates: Lee Juyeon, Kim Younghoon, and Lee Hyunjae.

author’s note: oops i forgot to do an an anyways surprise !!

last/next

masterlist

taglist:

@boomhoon , @sanasour , @loonaluvz , @jaerisdiction , @cowsmicwu , @jundundun , @piripurora

[wilderun]

Coyotes and wolves are hostile competitors in the wild, generally, even going out of their way to kill one another's offspring.

Though I'm sure this is more learned than genetic (neophobia and competition are genetic but lupus-latrans rivalry isn't), were you ever concerned that your coydog and your wolfdog wouldn't get along for that reason?

How did they get along when you first did introductions, and what kinds of safety measures did you take when introducing them?

How do coydogs differ from wolfdogs in your experience?

Do you feel any differently about coydog ethics than you do wolfdog ethics-- ethics of owning, handling, breeding, and selling?

Have you ever encountered a coywolfdog? What do you think they're like (or what would they be like) by comparison to coydogs and wolfdogs?

I may have met one at a wolf habitat, I think, but it may have just been a coywolf without the "dog" component. I forgor

I've been traditionally anti-wolfdogs for concerns about unpredictability -- thinking it best to place them in wildlife rehab centers and not to deliberately breed them -- but I've been poking around dogblr and hearing about more nuanced takes like those on your blog. I am learning ^^'

I grew up as a total wolfaboo from age 10, my oldest special interest being canines in general. Everything about them -- dogs, wolves, coyotes, foxes, culpeos and the "Fuegian dog," Aenocyon dirus, other woofers like maned wolves and bush dogs, domestication and evolution processes -- fascinates me and I always want to know everything about them lmao

Howdy! This is a *great* series of questions and I'll do my best to answer in depth!

In the wild, wolves and coyotes aren't always direct competitors, as they often have different prey types, but they are territorial towards eachother and interbreeding/cohabitation is uncommon unless in an area where both species are under high outside pressure (ie, hunting derbies, bounties, etc) that reduce the number of available mates within their species. But wolfdogs at least benefit from a mellowing of instincts from the 40-60 years of captive breeding behind them and aren't going to be as sharply inclined towards behaviors their wild counterparts might exhibit.

Zephyr, my wolfdog, and Basil, my coydog, come from *very* different backgrounds. Zephyr is a purposfully bred dog from many decades of selective breeding for mild and sociable nature, whereas Basil was from an oops breeding between a wild male coyote and a female farm dog. However, both were raised with a lot of interaction with other canines and developed excellent canine social skills even when there's a difference in "dialect".

Basil's owner brought him into my yard on a leash. Zephyr is not a territorial dog, and was excited to see a new friend. We had them both on leash and hung out near eachother and let them both settle and relax and observe eachother without being able to directly interact, for about an hour, as we talked and went over what his routine looked like and how we were going to approach building trust and establishing a good relationship. We then took them out on a walk together, allowing them to have short interactions on loose leashes and then redirect back to us for a treat. Basil was a little unsure at first, since most of his dog friends were small dogs, but Zephyr was happy to back off if he got tense, and her respect of his space helped him open up to eventually offering play and greeting behavior towards her.

Ending that walk on a positive note, I set Basil up in his crate and his owners left. Basil got to see how my dogs interacted with me over the coming days, and would get supervised playtime within the secure dog run with her. They had moments of disagreement but seeing how good they both were at de-escalation of conflict using body language, I eventually allowed them to spend time together loose in the house with less supervision (ie I was home but not right there) and together in the enclosure when I wasn't home.

To be honest, a lot of it is knowing your animal and how they respond. I knew that even if a fight *did* break out, Zephyr is extremely conflict avoidant and would end it by either disengaging and diffusing, or pinning him and then disengaging if he wouldn't let up. My biggest concern was him being a pediatric neutered male, if she would tolerate him being around during breeding season, but that didn't end up being an issue at all, she adored him all during winter and he was even the first dog she wanted to introduce to her puppies <3

I think coydogs benefit from being less popular than wolfdogs, since they can be particularly sensitive to poor handling, but it would be nice to see at least one breeder approaching it responsibly, especially for animal filmwork roles, rather than the handful of litters produced each year being random crosses between a pet coyote and a random dog they get along with.

I know of a couple wolfdogs who also have coyote in the mix and vice versa. They seem to not be a great blend for the most part. Quite a few of these coywolfdog crosses came from Tim Stark (recently infamous via Tiger King).

[thessalian]

Thess vs A Day Thrown Out Of Whack

My stepfather. Fucking hell.

So he pops around about twenty minutes into my workday, holding a massive extension lead. Turns out that, yeah, the electrician is going to have to turn off the power in the flat ... to everywhere but the kitchen. And he has this idea of plugging this massive extension lead into whatever socket he can find in the kitchen and let me plug all the stuff I need for work into that.

A few issues with this:

We're not entirely sure that would reach to the study. So I might have to move to the sitting room, which I already know from previous experience with the window guys is not a great place to work. Also...

There is exactly one free power socket in my kitchen, and it's attached to a surge protector where my toaster, microwave, and kettle are plugged in. Yeah, I could unplug the whole surge protector, but that leads to...

All the unplugging and the replugging would probably take about as much time as just switching everything off and letting the electrician do his thing, because it'd have to happen twice

All of this I had to explain to him as he was already examining my various bits of power cable in preparation for doing this without even waiting for a yes or no. My stepfather has this thing about things being done the way he thinks they should be done, and it's a lot of debating to get him to see otherwise. I finally explained to him that either way, I'd still be losing time that would have to be made up later in the afternoon, and started powering things down as the electrician guy came in.

And apparently, I wasn't allowed to even vaguely intimate that this was inconvenient for me. Because of course he'd already said it was fine yesterday afternoon. Which ... is honestly the source of my annoyance.

I mean, come on. I found out by talking to the electrician guy that said electrician guy was in the other flat yesterday. So when the electrician was arranging this morning's appointment, he must have asked my stepfather about it. But apparently, asking me before okaying it never so much as crossed his mind. I mean, I was two doors down. We both have mobile phones. He could have said, "Hang on; I'm alright with it but I should check with [Thess] before I agree, as she* works from home", and called me. Or texted. Or walked down the corridor and knocked. But nope. He said, "That's fine", he went home, he took a fucking nap, and woke up at about half-past eleven at night and went, "Oops; I should ring [Thess] and let her* know about the electrician".

The worst part is how he phrased it, honestly. He asked, "Would it be alright if--?" but there was no actual way I could say no. It was already arranged and there is no way my stepfather would have rung up the electrician and said, "Sorry; I didn't realise but it turns out this isn't a good time. Can we reschedule?" I was expected to just fit this into my day.

Which I did. I sat around stressed out (because, again, we are two typists down and the only other dedicated typist we have is the lazy bint who refuses to do any typing over a minute long, so work build-up), and then it was over about a half-hour later, so I went back to work, and I made up my time, but that made me later than I wanted to be for some errands I needed to run, so I had to stress about that, and... Yeah. It has not been a great day.

There will be hot bath. Food. Loaf. I need something about today that I do not hate. Especially since the Shadow Health Secretary - the guy who will be Secretary of State for Health and Social Care assuming Labour wins the next election (pretty solid bet, honestly), is going around saying that gender critical people should not be seen as bigots and "single-sex spaces" and the like is "nuanced", and he doesn't believe that a trans woman is a woman anymore. I HATE THIS FUCKING COUNTRY.

* - no, I am not out to the parentals. I never will be. I acknowledge and lament that, but they do not get it and I'm non-committal enough about my gender to be female for the paperwork and the parentals. Good thing, too, given I live on TERF Island. See above for my despair about that one.

[finalpr0jects]

Being away from Twitter makes me realize how easy it is to take for granted a shared fandom space like that.

My biggest incentive in writing and being active in fandom is making friends. I know it's not the same for everyone, but damn. In this past year I've met so many incredible people who have inspired and supported me. Friends who I've gotten to meet IRL and hope stay in my life even beyond JJK, all because they slid into my DMs on twitter.

But I also realize how much it was starting to stress me out and in ways, I was letting my relationship with it get unhealthy (I spent hours and hours a day scrolling, oops). I wasn't writing for me as much anymore as I was writing for engagement. Which I think just sort of comes from establishing a larger audience.

On Tumblr, I have yet to see a single instance of ship or character hate, or any of that discourse at all? Granted I'm only following a small handful of people and there just seem to be a smaller animanga fandom here. But it's refreshing how wholesome it is to engage with a fandom that way.

Ive always felt it was so unnecessary to openly hate on other people's joy, or yuck their yum. But the ship wars are BAD on twitter, and I'm not even talking about anti vs proship drama but the "my ship is more canon than yours" type shit. The various haremists fighting over the characters they think should like their fav more. The "how dare you characterize x character like that, you're wrong" threads. It's just... It gets draining fast and discouraging and negatively impacts the environment I think.

Something about twitter's interface just seems to be geared towards fueling arguments (like reddit). People like to argue on there? As if it's a debate site first and foremost.

Idk about y'all but I just like seeing people have fun with the characters and the fandoms I like and I could really not care less about the rest. I hope twitter comes back and gets fixed/run coreectly for everyone's sake but I also find it shocking how different the culture is space to space.

[alliumbunny]

Headcanon time I guess(TMNT 2012)

BECAUSE I'M TERRIBLY MISSING TMNT BUT I'M BURNT OUT OF WATCHING NETFLIX HEADCANONS FOR TMNT 2012

If any of these end of very very very canon you can blame netflix for not having 4/5 seasons so I don't know everything oopsie :3

I'll start with my favorite character since obviously I'm gonna have alot to say about him :)

Oh girlie this is gonna be long(I TYPE ALOT LOL)

Michelangelo, Mikey, The best boy!! :3 sunshine boy idk

He's very very VERY fond of bugs, He picks them up and smiles at them :) and sometimes eats but only when his brothers aren't around because they 100% yell at him everytime they see him eat the bugs because B U G S!! Listen what else are they gonna eat that technically has meat? There's not gonna be any chicken in the sewers... maybe... who knows... chickens are weird like that <3

AS SOON!!! As they got internet and stuff in the lair he learned EVERY SINGLE CUSS WORD ✨✨✨ He also learns very quickly how and when to use them etc etc because he finds them so funny, Also He ONLY uses them with villains and only when his brothers/family/friends aren't around!! He comes up with the weirdest crazy fuckin Insults and thinks they are SO funny <3 lol (... Projection maybe :3 )

He's PanRomanic Asexual, because He deserves to be alittle(ALOT) Fruity 💖 (Kinda projection but not really, I'm Pansexual so sorta close LOL)

Tends to learn how to use weapons REALLY fast, He finds it really fun and interesting to learn how to use his brothers weapons!!! :D

Reads ao3 fanfics, Doesn't write any but found out Leo writes them and loves reading his, Mikey's just so glad his Oldest Brother has something fun he likes to do that isn't really serious!!! :D

Doesn't like Horror Movies(To much gore for him normally) but fucking loves Psychological Horror. I was about the say he liked The Magnus archives, but it didn't start until 2016 lol. So Umm :3 He likes reading horror stories alot. (This is projection probably but hey, I think he would hehehe)

Forgets his own birthday almost every single year(Oops going angsty now beware >:3 ) He doesn't see his birthday as important as his brothers or even his fathers so his brain just forgets about it, He always remembers his brothers tho(this is paired with the headcanon that they choose different days in the same month so that they didn't have to have 4 different birthdays on the same day lol)

April gave them a notebook and Mikey sketches in it, he runs out of space and starts to draw in between every other drawing because he doesn't want to ask for another one... :')

HE PUTS STICKERS ON THAT NOTEBOOK!!!! they're not very good stickers but like, He's collected them for years, every time he found one that wasn't destroyed then he takes it >:3 His brothers know about his little stickers and leave any stickers they find in his room <3 :'D

believes in luckiness/unluckiness and that sorta, luck theory(I might be the only person who's thought of this So I'll explain it oops) Basically Mikey believes that if Something good happens to him the same amount of bad will also happen later on, and vise versa :3 He doesn't let it bother him but it's always in the back of his mind.

The last thing also plays a part in this one. Mikey doesn't like when something REALLY good happens to him. He 100% believes that something REALLY bad will happen to him sometime after, Normally it does tho so he's kinda valid for it :')

Loves Animals, All kinds, He doesn't technically have a favorite(Until ICK comes into his life and it becomes cats) He loves cows and dogs and bunnies(PROJECTION LOL) and fish and Frogs and birds and dinosaurs and erhjdkjgbhdfkjbndfkjnjdfns ALL OF THEM, He doesn't really have a least favorite tho :)

He finds soda really weird, He likes diet soda tho, for some Weird reason, If he were to ever go to a fast food place he'd do that thing where to put some of every drink choice in one cup >:) (That's projection kinda, I used to do that so much omg, not anymore tho sadge)

Likes legos and stuff like it :D he likes building things that have instructions, He likes looking at the finished product and smiling and holding it and just OvO

LOVES COLORS!!! His favorite color isn't orange surprisingly tho, Instead it's the colors of the sky(in the day and night!!)

Likes sunsets/sunrises alot

He likes sitting on building roofs and just looks at the sky... It's when he cries the most LOL

DEPRESSION ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (PROJECTION TO THE MAX) His room is messy and he can never get to cleaning it and it makes him sad and like, numb sorta lol

Has sleep issues lol <3 Insomnia but nobody knows <3 I'm lovin it but Mikey ain't ✨

Gets Auditory hallucinations every now and again. They spook him alot since they're normally of stuff breaking loudly

Can't stop moving ever and it's very endearing to me!!! Stims constantly when happy and it's really endearing to his brothers because that's how they now he's actually really happy to be there and hang out with them, He just loves them so much(in a sibling way of course, I swear it anyone thinks differently I will hit them with a chainsaw and eat their flesh!!!!) aka they also know when he's not happy because of it aswell tho.

He bites people when he wants to >:)

. . . Raph and Leo are tied for favorite brother...

Okay I should probably stop with the Mikey ones oopsie daisy :3

So Um!! Next lol!!

Leo... Leonardo <3 <3 LEO!!! :D

He is such a mother hen(Honestly that's canon oops) He has the second most Medical knowledge and uses it all the time (The first is Donnie)

He squints his eyes when he's confused or upset lol

He doesn't like crime but keeps accidentally doing it without thinking

Quotes space hero's and Raph and Donnie are sick of it, Mikey quotes it with him but isn't as good at remembering the quotes lol

Likes the stars and star gazes whenever he can :D

watches videos about space!!!!!! He rambles to His brothers(Mostly mikey) about space facts til he runs out and gets new ones and goes through the same thing!!! It makes him so happy!!!!!!!!!

Likes gum, like minty gum!!!! He finds it fun to chew lol

cries in his room alone, silently at night....

Okie doki Leo is hard to think of :( Umm so NEXT :D Raph!! Raphael!! Yippeeee

When He's confused his eyes go all wide and shit >:3

Surprisingly likes calmer music that's softer and shit y'know? :)

Hates the velvet texture...

Has a calendar in his room that's been on February(20XX idk) for years probably

God raph is also hard to do...

Okay okay next!!

Donnie, donatello....

I wish I could headcanon him out of liking april. /hj

STARES AT PEOPLE for ALONG time, without realizing

Collects blankets that are textures that he likes. He just... has a pile of blankets :)

Donatello isn't my favorite if you can't tell ._.'

OKAY I KNOW IT WAS MOSTLY MIKEY!! BUT HE'S MY FAVORITE OKAY JFBKJDSBKJSDGNJKDFNGJLNDFJL

I tried my best with the others :3

I only did the brothers cause... Idk I didn't wanna do the others, k :3

I hope there's no spelling mistakes but know me there is oopsie ;3 lol

I guess... bye then? Idk

[liliansun]

day 21/365 of haechan <3 ignoring the thing that happened with santa monica (my yesterday) because it's really that damaging to my parasocial relationship with the love of my life..

here's day 21! (help! i'm running out of ideas)

since i watched a cute little compilation of nct loving on haechan - i thought i'd write about my favourite moments or like cute things to do with their relationship or something. (psa : i just think it's best not to include a particular member so he's not included...!) (this is also by memory otherwise we'll be here all day)

127 Version!

taeil - sun & moon. the friendship test. i love when they're all in their PJs and haechan thinks they don't need blankets when they can cuddle. i think haechan is VERY attached to taeil and tends to look after him often. and i think taeil lets haechan get away with A LOT. taeil makes haechan laugh like hehehehe alot.

johnny - johnny's like his pāpā. papa bear. i don't know seeing johnny take haechan's side and/or always looking out for him, i don't know it makes me feel gooey. for both of them. the fact that they both drank through wine bottles together. johnny is always the one enjoying haechan's jokes. consistently. AH my favourite moment is when they were in that school and couldn't laugh and that was literally ALL they did.

taeyong - (early era : limitless?) taeyong and haechan were roommates and they were like 'how is rooming with taeyong? and haechan answered like a robot 'i.like.it.I.am.happy.everyday....' or when taeyong is touching him and haechan's basically screaming in doyoung's ear. let's not forget the ty track saga - sm rookies interview legendary moment! i also think taeyong tends to watch out for haechan a lot and is always buying him clothes (idk about now but in the past - all the time)

yuta - he teases haechan a lot you know! hahaha it's cute. but like yuta has a really sparkly gaze and smile - we all know this - but like when haechan is really putting it on - like the whole works - boba eyes? check, pouty lips? check, grabby hands? double check. yuta gets this little smile and i think about it a lot. i think my favourite moments is the 'one bite' ice cream situation (haechan getting teased again and his scary eyes came out) and the 'watashiwa donghyuck kun' made me fall into bits. let's be honest, if haechan didn't receive the treatment he receives from ten, yuta and dream, he'd be completely spoilt.

doyoung - haechan's favourite victim. tbh countless moments i could list off here. COUNTLESS. the never winning an argument. the 'i'm on haechan's team.' 'you shouldn't have haechan as enemy.' one of my favourite pairs. but i think he's someone very precious to haechan otherwise he wouldn't be teasing him constantly. boy teasing doyoung so much, i'm glad he hasn't cried at any point. i won't name any moments because then we'd be here all day, but you get the point.

jaehyun - WHEN HAECHAN MAKES THIS MAN LAUGH. MY FAVOURITE THING IN THE WORLD. when jaehyun called haechan for food and haechan sipped at a 'straw' that wasn't at all a straw. i think they can have a lot of fun together. jaehyun's like taeil - has some severe patience. i also think jaehyun's the type to let haechan be haechan and just roll with it. haechan's go-to is also sitting in jaehyun's lap -e.g (isac when haechan is wearing a suit) and (NCT World).

jungwoo - the LAUGHS THAT JUNGWOO MAKES HAECHAN DO. some of my favourite laughs of his. two equally-as-weird-equally-as-handsome friends. AH my favourite moment ever is when they're playing the 'i love you' game and haechan looks at jungwoo once and already is battling the whole sea, earth, and the space continuum to hold that laugh in. i also think that these two tend to have the more serious talks with each other? it's just a feeling.

mark - ....OOP here it is. Haechan's soulmate. The person that taught Mark to be angry. The person that fuels Haechan's teasing the most. Such a legendary pair. And like Doyoung - there's heaps of moments. There's the legendary handshake too. But I feel like it's important to mention the time they've spent together - from pre-debut when they were barely prepubescent and now adulting together. it's been at least a decade by now... they're in 2 fixed groups together...everywhere. anytime. it's spent primarily with each other. so when haechan or mark isn't there, the other is a little out of sorts (not too much but there's some frazzle). and they're both so serious when it comes to their performance. i think that they keep the other in check.

so i almost just wrote the whole group in one but i've edited it and now it'll be by group because i'm struggle to construct full sentences and i've been at this for hours.

when she does things like this for you that literally take her HOURS >>>>>>>> (real love)

No bc I read all this w the biggest smile on my face 🤭🤭

[ohhicas]

-pulls up a chair in your askbox- so. tell me about your ships. no art needed. just like. talk. rant. chill. no pressure. -eating a muffin-

I HAVE... A LOT THO too many to easily narrow down

I guess.... I'm really into Malleus/Sebek & Rook/Floyd rn, from Twist (like on top of my KH usuals) I'm eagerly awaiting more of book7 so I can see how MalleSebe works out given All That's Happening (no spoilers here), but with Rookfloyd I'm enjoying watching what the JP fandom creates with them. It's a fun dynamic, because Rook tends to like things that can kick his ass (like... openly swooning about the Idea that Leona could and would rip his throat out with his teeth), and Floyd doesn't want "Boring". And Rook is ANYTHING but boring

they're also wild cause Rook directly states he's not the type of man to be tied down to anything, and Floyd *hates* being tied down. They're a very "we're not 'Together', and the term/idea of Boyfriends makes us itchy, but somehow we are together" like two feral cats who adopted themselves into each other's house without asking first. My favorite dynamic on it is "Rook keeps bullying his way into Floyd's personal space without dying for it, and Floyd keeps nearly pulling that metaphorical trigger and just squeezing him until he stops moving, but for Some Ungodly Reason he doesn't. Rook is just interesting enough he's allowed to stick around and oops now we're kissing." Portfest is so good for this dynamic too, cause you run into them and it's like they're on a date but apparently nope, Rook just SHOWED UP while Floyd was trying to get lunch and refused to go away so now he's just, here now, and Floyd is a fully capable, terrifying figure that if he wanted him gone, Rook would be gone. AND YET.

[andersonpress]

#DEEPTHOTS - What The F*ck Just Happened?

May 11, 2021

How did we get here? 

Bitch...it’s May. How the fuck did we get to 2021? I haven’t had a sliver of free space in my brain to process 2020...the last time I wrote a #DEEPTHOT my campus was in a state of emergency - YIKES by Nicki Minaj was bangin’ and I had just bought a dog. I was fed up with the time space continuum and the fact that professors seem to operate outside of it. School continues to be business as usual and like usual - millions are getting left behind. 

I took a break from the monotony of dog motherhood and being cooped up in the house to be a slave - I got a 9 to 5. Yeah I know, dumb bitch behavior. As the world wants us to think: I should be using my freetime to make money, stack paper, #grindszn. Call me Fall Out Boy - the mighty fell. I found myself running to the private restroom at my job saying things like ‘this will all be worth it,’; ‘I’ll be able to meet my needs,’ and all the other stupid shit you convince yourself to believe when you are making money for someone else for pennies on the dollar. The things you say to delude yourself out of thinking about how disrespected you feel on the daily, how little you know your administration feels about you, how little thanks you get for consistently saving the day. Oops, am I talking too loud? I couldn’t even think about doing fun shit - I had to work. Yeah...not doing that shit again. 

What even is normal anyway? 

My mantra since this shit began has been: 

I can not control anyone’s actions but my own. 

Being a survivor of abuse - you don't have a concept of normal. Getting called out of your name by someone you love IS normal. Putting hands on people in your family IS normal. Making yourself small for the betterment of the family...chile who tf said that shit was normal? Now take it to the internet: Whether at a protest, online forums, sneaking out past quari-curfew - everyone was so LOUD and WRONG. ‘The age of misinformation’ didn’t end..it got a Canva Pro subscription. Activist groups filled with elitists disguised as anarchists. Mutual aid funds embezzling money. Diversity, BIPOC, Access, and AAVE keep flying around on my timeline with messengers who don’t know the cashapp of any Black people. Y’all really tried to bully me into voting for Uncle Joe and KOONmala remember? The Western world continues to take shots at American policy makers instead of refocusing our energy on countries with little to no access to vaccinations for COVID - 19. What the fuck is happening? Fuck my trauma look at the world. What governments believe to be 'normal.' What community members find 'normal.' It was all too much to take in. 

So I took a major step back in all aspects of my life.

I turned inward so as to focus on finishing my proposal (ya know my Doctoral degree) and I'm almost there. I rallied for my friends when needed, cared for some folks, sent money to causes I could, and shamed yt people into doing work. I did what I could - which is what I am going to continue to do. 

I have not been processing my life as I used to. So many things have changed about it, I don't want to spend all of my time trying to comprehend and not on living. And I mean when, where, how are we supposed to process what's going on? There has been zero process time for the horrors of these past few years. I went from codependency - to addiction - to running from my problems - to blaming other people - to isolating myself - to having daily panic attacks - to be a codependent leaning/bird on the run type/narcissist baby ass bitch. And I just learned that I actually did all that shit THIS year. I expect things from myself that I can't do. My capacity to understand is there but my drive to push thru stopped. I have always heard folks say that things in your life start to "blur" together...years of monotony go by. In marriages you hate, avoiding people who care about you... yeah I've done that already. And then had to get UNdone from it. We put things off cause we don't have the time or the energy to deal with it but it just piles up. Getting undone is an intimate process. Surreal. It's wild to know the power you hold - to hurt people - change people's lives - be a fuck up - do fucked up shit. But we must embrace our capacity for evil as much as our capacity for good. Balance is key. I'm continuing to survive and trying to be happy. Keyword of 'try.' I am unlearning every fucking day. Re learning - refusing to accept certain truths - living in the world I want to live in. Unlearning is forever. Through the pandemic, partnerships, education, workshops, large moments in your life - you will have to learn you really ain't all that special. Shit really isn't about YOU. People are snakes - ask any fire sign...we constantly feel wronged. People have negative intentions for you - you are delusional about how close you are to people - you allow people to cross your boundaries - you sacrifice portions of yourself to make others happy. 

Baby, that's not gone work.

Are you ready for a revolution? 

I’ve found peace in keeping up with international revolutionaries, activists, students, and community members all pushing their messages. Sounding off around the world! The struggle is international - it’s nothing personal. Similar with my suicide attempts and being a survivor of abuse - I'm not alone. Everything I feel is for me. My experience is mine. But everyone else also has their own very real experiences. I am not the only person with emotions. Everyone is going through shit. You get to moments in life where you feel like things don't stop - no time to break - no time to understand. But the future is filled with intention. And bad bitchery. And crying. 

Being neurotypical makes things so much harder. Being Black makes it nearly impossible. Being queer makes this dangerous. I am not supposed to be happy. Healing is not linear. 

Unlearning for me looks like a full on breakdown...for 30 minutes. (Hey I used to spiral for days now I got it down to under 30 minutes shout out to my therapist). At first there is a slew of emotions: anger, confusion, doubt, anxiety, depression, jealousy...real ugly thoughts. I jot those thoughts down in my phone, write lyrics, take pictures, or hula hoop until my head slows down. I validate all that shit first. Damn, I felt that shit - it was wild - but we reach the end of this portion. Then I research, find others who are going through what I am and apply changes to my lifestyle. I have my counselor and core friends to hold me accountable to being accepting to change. I talk to myself, my ancestors, my community for guidance. I'm getting better at asking for help. 

I remember my partner mentioning Octavia Butler's words that change is God. How I see it - We are capable of change - take the metaphor how you will. 

It's ok Tay. Breathe. Do. Be. That is enough. Time to push through mama. Living as if the world can change. That’s the mission. 

[browneyesandhair]

Hey! It's ya girl! April Edition

I got no chill and a large obsession with a lot of things. So this year, I'm tracking it! Okay, so this year, is the year of recs! (you may have seen some of my posts, but I also have an extensive queue, so maybe not (check out the #recs on my page)). Running a little behind (it's already June, oops!)

Anyways, I've created a collection for this year overall and then also for each month! Let's check out April's stats -

Works read (&finished): 112

Fandoms (top 8):

1 - Bridgerton: 33

2 - Harry Potter: 28

3 - The Vampire Diaries: 16

4 - Young Justice: 15

5 - Les Miserables: 13

6 - Criminal Minds: 2

7 - Percy Jackson and the Olympians: 1

8- Merlin: 1

The rest didn't make the first drop down section of AO3, so oh well! Let's check in on relationships (top 8):

1 - Polin: 33

2 - Klaroline: 16

3 - Spitfire: 14

4- Enjolras/Eponine: 13

5 - Harmony: 9

6 - Hinny: 5

7 - Roy Harper/Jade Nguyen: 4

8 - Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara: 2

Quite a few recs that were reread/added to the list this month:

Harry Potter:

The Changeling by Annerb

Summary:

Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

Sequels also read: pick it up, pick it all up and start again, we can still be, who we said we were, and in my head we do everything right

Six Pomegranate Seeds by Seselt

Summary:

At the end, something happened. Hermione clutches at one fraying thread, uncertain whether she is Arachne or Persephone. What she does know is that she will keep fighting to protect her friends even if she must walk a dark path.

Sequels also read: Bouquet of Asphodels

Forever Means Forever by cocoartist

Summary:

If she ever saw Unspeakable Number 37 again she would kill him with her bare hands: Hermione's research into the Veil has an unexpected side-effect. COMPLETE.

Les Mis:

It Is Not a Word Spoken by CrazyAce_n_PokerFace

Summary:

*…I don't understand. You can't possibly be suggesting you were seriously trying to sext me.* She stares at his words and exhales slowly before typing, *And if I was…?* É/E Modern AU. The long-awaited sexting fic. Very NSFW. Dedicated to the wonderful samthenardier as a birthday gift. Title taken from the lovely poem "It Is Not a Word" by Sara Teasdale.

Merlin:

Radioman by Footloose

Summary:

The reason SAS Captain Arthur Pendragon can't keep a communications specialist in Team Excalibur because none of them are good enough. And then Lieutenant Merlin Emrys gets assigned to his squad, and Arthur does everything he can to prove that Merlin isn't good enough, either. Except he is.

Atla:

Returned for a Better Try (to Make a Better Time) by atypicalhypocrite

Summary:

The Fire Lord’s blast is sharp and thorough. Still on his knees before his father, a thirteen year old dies instantly. Another Zuko, once teacher to the avatar and a Fire Lord himself, jolts into being in his place, and deals with the consequences. Timeline preservation nothing, he’s going to be a better Fire Lord this time, and start sooner.

Star Trek:

Ten Degrees Below Zero by kianspo

Summary:

After a serious incident aboard a starship, Commander Spock is demoted and transferred to a remote base where he must now serve with other "undesirables." He adjusts to his new rank and duties, and, while the future does look bleak, he is not ready to give up on himself or Starfleet yet. There is work to be done and hope to be found, especially as he begins to get to know his new colleagues, particularly one intriguing engineering officer James Kirk...

The Vampire Diaries:

At Horizon's Edge by Cupcakemolotov

Summary:

Sometimes when a girl goes on a shopping trip to pick up a new pair of boots at the local, and somewhat hostile, human space station, she accidentally aids and abets a prison break instead. What happens in the black really doesn't stay in the black.

The Umbrella Academy:

broken still you breathe (breathe, breathe, just breathe) by Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated

Summary:

“He’s not coming,” Luther says impatiently. “Let's just get this over with.” “Who’s not coming?” The voice sounds behind them suddenly, and all of them startle and whip around in synchronization. “Klaus,” Luther hears himself say distantly. “You’re…here.” Four tilts his head, bringing his hand to his lips and inhaling deeply around the cigarette dangling between his fingers. When he exhales, the smoke curls around his head like a halo before drifting into the air. “Yeah, well, I would’ve gotten here sooner,” Four says around the cigarette. “But I just really didn’t want to.” *** Number Four shows up to the funeral three hours late with an iced latte in one hand and a cigarette dangling from the other. Or; Klaus fled the Academy the day they turned eighteen. He never looked back. Ten years later, their father dies. Number Four returns. And none of them quite know what to do with this new version of their black sheep brother. AKA: Klaus single-handedly stops the apocalypse. It really wasn't that hard, so if everyone could stop looking at him like that, that would be great, thanks.

Bridgerton:

Plenty Far To Fall by useyourtelescope

Summary:

When financial troubles mean third-son Colin Bridgerton must cease his yearly travels and find employment instead, he has difficulty finding something suitable. Until he learns of a unique position being offered by the notorious gossip columnist Lady Whistledown.

Alright, that's all folks (mostly), for fun, here are the top 8 additional tags from the stories that I read in April:

AU - Modern Setting: 24

AU: 16

Smut: 14

Fluff: 10

Friends to Lovers: 10

AU - Canon Divergence: 9

Angst: 8

Explicit Sexual Content: 7

And, that's all folks (for real this time)!