#and I'm nowhere near done playing with them

[bearprofessorr]

chasing the stars, part 2.

seeking each other out once is a coincidence, twice is a choice.

ship: bfd!declan o'hara/fem!reader. tags/warnings: slow burn, very tiny Declan POV, reader smoking, references to cheating, no y/n. word count: 2.3k

Part 1 here!

a/n: so. i did in fact speak some famous last words - i forgot that uni exists again and got distracted with life stuff, sorry y'all!! Still writing p3, it's at 1.6k and I'm nowhere near done so... yay? enjoy :)

Taggie, as ever, had made a beautiful meal, with your occasional assistance and constant motivation to combat her self-doubt. And as the evening wound down, now that Caitlin and Patrick had been back at their respective institutions and Maud was back and forth between London and the Cotswolds - mostly in London as of recent - the house was quiet most of the time - even more so if Taggie was out for the night either at your or on the town. Declan was appreciative for the noise, even if the loud pop music and over the top singing sometimes woke him up in the early hours of the morning, he preferred it over the eerie silence that lingered in the creaky house when it was just him.

The girls were set up in the living room, with lamps and candles being the only light setting the atmosphere around them with some rerun of an old film playing from the TV - but the light chatter and laughter overtop made it clear they were barely watching it. As Declan walked past the archway to the living room, he noted at least 2 empty bottles on the table, and one half-full. He was glad Taggie had someone to confide in, and even more glad that it was someone as truly wonderful as you. Regardless of any pull he felt toward you, his priority was always to put his daughter's happiness over his own - even if at times he let that fall to the wayside in pursuit of grander things. Now that he was making plans to leave Corinium - if Tony would just let him - he hoped that it would help him prioritise keeping those he loved happy. Even if that happiness meant letting them go.

Taggie ended up falling asleep on the sofa adjacent to yours, the wine making her blink out as soon as she brought her blanket around her shoulders. You, however, were wide awake. The film had long since ended, and you didn't want to risk changing the channel and waking her up. So, as quietly as you could, you rummaged around in your bag for your tobacco and papers before darting around to the kitchen so you could turn on the light. The process of rolling was therapeutic - even if Taggie chastised you for the habit, it was one you had gained at the bright age of 15 from your sister and never looked back.

Just as you approached the main door to sit outside on the stairs, a familiar voice chirped up from behind you, surprise in his tone, "You smoke?"

You looked over your shoulder to see Declan, still dressed in his suit, minus the tie, unbuttoned to the chest. He plucked a cigarette from the packet in his pocket, letting it hang between his lips as he walked toward you. "It's fine, you can smoke in here, there's no need to go outside."

"I know, I just prefer it. It's a nice night out - no clouds so I reckon you could see the stars pretty clearly." You smiled, turning the handle and stepping out, leaving the door open behind you in case he chose to follow. He did, stepping out into the chill air beside you, the flick of his lighter the only sound between the pair as he lit his, before offering the flame to you. The silent communication between smokers was a language you knew well, leaning over with the cigarette between your lips, and Declan brought up his hand to cup in the direction of the wind, shielding it.

The night was as beautiful as you thought, the treeline being a lovely backdrop to the sky above, with stars twinkling in the clear night sky. You settled yourself on the step of the house, tucking your knees to your chest and pulling your cardigan closer to yourself as a breeze blew past them both. You broke the silence, as you had a habit of doing, "Can't sleep?"

"I don't fall asleep until the early hours most nights now without some help." Declan admitted, blowing out a breath of smoke. "Yourself?"

"Me neither." You agreed, "Self-inflicted, but for the most part there's nothing I need to be up for, if you understand me."

Declan hummed in agreement, letting the conversation drop off. Together, you sat in comfortable silence until you'd finished your respective cigarettes. You continued to sit, after flicking the end over to a pre-existing pile. "You don't need to stay out here just because I am."

"I know."

"It's cold, aren't you cold?"

"No, not really." He paused, a secondary layer of questioning under his next words, "Do you want to be alone?"

That was a question you had been pondering while you smoked, ever since you bumped into Declan before. The wine was clouding your judgement slightly, aiding to your honesty.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then I'll stay."

"Okay then."

Silence, again.

Then you asked a simple question, but a complicated one at the same time, "What you said earlier, how long have you felt like that?"

Declan knew immediately what you were talking about, and instinctively bit the inside of his lip. He reckoned he didn't know exactly when his opinion changed, he just knew when he stopped being so optimistic about it all. Maud, who was still legally his wife, didn't feel like a partner much these days. They lived such separate lives, he had no idea what she was doing day to day - just as she knew nothing of his life now.

"A while." He nodded, tired eyes looking out to the treeline. "It's a weird journey, it's not like there was one day I woke up and decided I couldn't keep going, I came to the realisation that it wasn't going to help anymore a few months ago."

"After she cheated?"

"After she cheated again." Declan corrected. "Then as soon as she came here, Rupert was all over her - and vice versa - and I think I knew it was never going to stop, even so far from the city. I don't want to have to move again just to stop all that."

"I get it." You agreed, leaning your head back to rest against the wall. "I stayed with my ex, after he cheated, thought he could change. He didn't, and I was naïve to think that he would." The memories still stung even though it had been months since you had broke things off, but the wine wasn't helping in that regard. "Not that you are- marriage is a different ball game entirely."

"Is it, though?" Declan sat down beside you, resting his elbows on his knees. "I thought she could change. She told me she could - that she had. I still love her, even though she cheated, and it stings."

"That's for you to decide, and by the sounds of it, you have." You tried to sound reassuring, but by the drop of Declan's smile across from you, it might not have been so helpful. You adjusted yourself to be able to look at him properly instead of just glancing over every so often. "It's not over, if that's what you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't run out of time to find someone else." You suggested, "I know it's still very raw, but rebounds are a real thing for a reason."

"I haven't even talked to her about it-"

"That doesn't mean shit and you know it." You let yourself speak freely, knowing partially the spirals you threw yourself in when you were in Declan's position. "She threw the relationship away as soon as she made the choice to sleep with someone else."

"Hey-"

"I'm sorry." You backtracked, seeing the same signs as your conversation earlier start to rise onto Declan's features, "I'll leave you be, sorry." You reiterated, going to stand, but Declan - like before - reached for you without words, asking you to stay for his sake over yours.

"It's alright, love." The nickname brought a smile to your lips, which was mirrored on Declan's as you sat back down outside. "I've felt the anger as well as all the moping."

"I know it's to be no better than them," You postured, to no one in particular, "but I considered cheating back just to know what all the fuss is about - is there something so exhilarating about it that makes it all make sense?" You bit at the skin on your lip, which as soon as you caught it, brushed your hand over it to try stop the habit, "I don't know. It was months ago but I'm still stuck on the 'why?' did he just not love me anymore? Was there some secret thing he didn't want to ask me to do so looked elsewhere to have that need satiated? It's stupid to think about it now, there's no way I'll ever get an answer from him-"

"It makes sense, though, doesn't it? To try and logically approach it…" Declan chimed in, evidently having done some similar thinking in his own time, "but, if my understanding of it is correct, it isn't based in logic - it's not a mastermind villain thing, it's out of desperation, not wanting to admit something to your partner so you fill it with someone else. Most of the time, from what I talked to Maud about, she didn't know how to talk to me about something, but felt more comfortable bringing it up with someone she had less ties to."

He pulled out another cigarette, offering the box to you, who took it with a smile, placing it between your fingers and reaching across for him to light it. You had a lighter, it was just easier to have Declan do it, at least that was how you rationalised it. You took a puff of it before responding with, "Very wise, more grounded than my approach, that's for certain."

"Wisdom comes with age, sometimes."

"It comes with experience, if you're shut off from the world, you can't exactly ponder on the nature of things you have no knowledge of."

"That's why I said sometimes." Declan added with a chuckle, lighting his own cigarette.

A thought came to you , one that was purely born from curiosity and nothing to do with your conversation in any substantial way, so you proposed, "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask, I might not answer, though."

"Fair play." You took a moment to phrase the question in your head, looking at him to gauge his immediate reaction to your words, "If you were unspoken for, to put it nicely, what kind of woman would you go for?"

His eyebrows raised, his hand pausing on it's journey to put his cigarette up to his lips, instead falling to rest his forearm on his leg. His eyes broke from yours, looking to the gravel under his feet. He tapped the end of his cigarette, the ashes blowing away in the wind. "I'm not that picky, I'd say. Ideally, she'd be intelligent - at least to the point I can actually talk to her about the world."

Your mind flashed with memories of drunken philosophical talks and rants you've overheard over the months that you've known the O'Haras. Him and Taggie have had it out over life ideologies, with his daughter often taking the more optimistic approach and him the 'realist' outlook. It makes sense he would want someone he can stand toe to toe with in intellectual debate.

He pondered the question further, before continuing, "I'd want her to be passionate about her own hobbies, you know? I can't stand those wives who spend their days loitering around - it seems lifeless." His lips formed a scowl, a memory coming to the forefront of his mind transitioning it to a fond smile for a moment, "Maud, she used to be as busy as I was, and I loved her for it - she was always happier when she had a project. Then, as the years passed, she got placated by the repeat roles. Then it started to set in, the boredom, but by that point she lost the motivation to go to open calls and she just lounged around, trying to host parties to fill that social urge." He took a long breath out, "I can't do that anymore."

"I get it - I mean not exactly but I understand. Seeing your partner succeed and supporting them in that makes you realise why you fell in love with them all over again."

"Of course - it's a fluid thing," He agreed, a smile forming, "I hope, if things go the way I expect, that I could fall in love again."

"I said before, but there's no age limit to it. Taking that risk is timeless."

"Risk?"

"It is a risk - in my opinion - to fall in love with someone, especially if you don't know if they feel the same way. Even if you aren't in love, to put your heart out there takes courage." You blew out a cloud of smoke, "At least that's how it feels."

Declan hummed in recognition, "Of course." Something stirred in his chest, the process of moving on already having started. It was hard to think of a future so unfamiliar to what he's known, but it wasn't as daunting a concept as it had been a month ago. There were kind people, behind all of the rich folk who populated the valley, in the most unexpected places.

You shivered in the cold, the wine wearing off enough to catch a chill. You finished the rest of your cigarette, putting it out on the stone of the stair. "I'm going to head back inside, if that's alright?"

He looked up at you as you stood, bidding you farewell with a nod as he looked ahead to finish his second cigarette. "Goodnight, love. I might see you in the morning if you're still around."

"Goodnight, Declan."

[heartfulselkie]

The weight of an entire life

Balancing on a single feather

[revvethasmythh]

there is a particularly wild and unhinged energy to solas trapping you in the regret prison if you're a lords of fortune rook, who canonically was formerly enslaved. the crazy dynamic of solas, staunch abolitionist, imprisoning a freed slave to free himself to go help the shadow dragons (abolitionists) to protect minrathous from oppressive tyrant who would enslave the world. there is so much happening there i don't even know how to break that down

[you-are-constance]

i keep thinking that im like. doing fine. but then i realize that i have about two weeks (or less) to:

fully memorize and finish prepping my concerto for string juries

memorize jazz standards and have an orchestral excerpt all the way ready for bass juries

learn and memorize my piece for my piano class

co-write a 5 page paper and give a presentation for a group project

be able to play a Mozart symphony well for orchestra

be able to play all 4 of the tunes for my jazz band (i am not good at many of them)

umm. i also probably have some assignments and an exam for my music theory class. but that is like the only class that im not actually worried about right now.

[wickedhawtwexler]

i think that one of my goals for next year is gonna be doing something with my songwriting. like, do some open mic nights or join/start a band or something

[jiangshiu]

۶ৎ cho hyun-ju x reader — braiding her hair

slightly edited as of 1/7

her hair is tangled, nowhere near as styled as it was upon her arrival.

your fingers gently thread through the brown mess — the texture is not as brittle as you'd expected, pleasant to the touch just enough that you want to keep your hands buried in it for just a while longer.

so, for a few more minutes, you allow yourself to slack off, to enjoy the feeling of hyun-ju's surprisingly soft locks. she doesn't utter a word as you play with and twirl her hair, not even when you accidentally tug at the ends a bit too roughly.

it's only when you pull away, about to start working on your masterpiece (or in other words, the braid) that she finally speaks up, her voice quiet, timid, “...i've never had anyone do this for me before. thank you again.”

her confession makes you pause. for a moment, your brain struggles to pick an appropriate reaction. you want to express pity, console her, ask her more, but you'd rather not open any old wounds.

instead, you settle for the simple truth; “in that case i'm honored to be the first one to do this.”

with that said, you finally get to work. you divide hyun-ju's hair into three neat sections, interlacing the strands together. you take your time, treating each piece of the braid like it might break if you as much as twist it the wrong way. every piece falls into place perfectly like a puzzle as you intertwine the dark locks, your pace intentionally slow, leisurely.

a shaky breath slips through hyun-ju's lips, her shoulders slinking back a bit as she lets herself succumb to the gentle motion of your hands. despite not being able to see her face, you're certain her eyes are closed, drowning in the sensation.

“if...” you start, nearing the split ends of her hair, “when we get out of here, i think we should try out more hairstyles. and get ourselves some cute hair accessories. oh, actually, we should go to the mall and buy some pretty clothes as well! what do you think?”

it's like you can hear her lips curl into a small, appreciative smile, “i'd like that,” she admits.

as you secure hyun-ju's locks with a hair tie, a smile blooms on your face as well, “i'm counting on it then.”

“there,” your fingertips follow the length of the braid — truthfully, it's far from perfect, a few stray strands sticking out here and there, but little do you know she won't really mind.

hyun-ju turns around to face you. her black eyes carry a hint of uncertainty, like she's unsure of herself, “thank you,” she repeats, “it means a lot.”

the reluctance in her voice is loud and clear. she doesn't want to lose this precious moment of serenity just yet. because neither of you know when you'll have the opportunity to do something like this again, or if there even is a chance to escape this death filled land.

“actually, hold on, i'm not done yet.”

for the final touch, you tuck out two strands at the front. curling each strand in between your index fingers to give them a temporary wave, you catch hyun-ju's eyes slowly trailing down your face. she seems to be absolutely entranced by you — from the way your lips are pursed in concentration, to the kindness in your gaze that nobody else here has bothered to show her.

“you're watching me like a hawk,” you tease her with a toothy smile, tugging on one of the strands lightly.

that seems to pull her out of her trance-like state. she blinks a few times and looks down at her lap in shame, nervously wringing her hands, “sorry...”

“don't apologize,” you shake your head. you fluff up her bangs a bit as you continue, “i don't mind it if it's you looking at me.”

hyun-ju clears her throat. a faint blush dusts her cheeks as her fingers brush against her new hairstyle, careful not to dishevel it, “how do i look?”

your smile brightens.

“as beautiful as ever.”

[thinkinonsense]

cw: face sitting, fingering, squirting, slight inspection kink

"c'mon sweets, let me get a good look atcha." logan's voice rang in your ears.

you had been so good for him all day. he asked for one day of relaxation before he had to go on another mission tomorrow with the team. so you made sure that he was well fed for the day, had a pack of cigars ready for him and a new bottle of whiskey in the kitchen.

the two of you spent the day in his room, lounging around in each others arms while he reads and you sit curled up next to him. after hours of you playing with his hair, he decided to treat you for the rest of the evening.

which brings the two of you to this moment where logan's got you bend over face down ass up and spread open for his viewing pleasure. it's obscene the position he has you in. folds spread and glistening in the low light of his bedroom. your sweet arousal holds him hostage.

"please, lo." you beg, arching back even more. "been good for you all day."

"i know you have, baby." he purrs rubbing the back of your thighs. "such a good girl for me."

those few words could've started a puddle underneath you. he's lapping up the slick running down your leg. running his hot tongue over the plush skin.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy i've ever seen." he groans, smacking your ass playfully.

logan adjusts himself under you, letting you sit on his face. he pushes you down on his awaiting tongue, lapping your arousal up like a thirsty dog.

"use my face, princess." logan pleads, holding you down on his face.

"d-don't wanna hurt you, lo." you whimper, feeling his nose bump your clit.

he chuckled before grinding you down harder and licking at your entrance. the second the muscle makes its way past your gummy wall, you can't help but start moving faster on his face, using his nose for your own pleasure.

"oh, f-fuck." you moan, lacing your fingers in his hair and tugging.

logan knew your cunt like the back of his hand. he spent time memorizing every little thing that made you fall apart.

"i'm so c-close!"

a loud squeal slips past your lips when his fingers replace his tongue. fast paced and rough, just the way you like it. filth pours from below, "practically swallowing my fingers, sweetheart."

right on the edge of pleasure, logan flicks his tongue over your bundle of nerves while he nudges your cervix. your hips have a mind of their own as the move across his face, searching for a euphoria that only logan can give you.

a sudden warmth floods your tummy in a way you've never felt before during sex.

"w-wait, lo!" you squeal, afraid of losing control of your own fluids. "need to s-stop!"

despite your words, your lower half only contradicted them. thighs wrapped nicely around logan's head while your nails scratch at his scalp. he's moaning into your cunt, already knowing what's coming.

"gonna- ah!"

a splash on slick covers logan's face, your thighs, and the sheets under you two. he couldn't believe his sweet girl could turn into a fucking fountain just from his fingers. this only further spurs logan on, needing to lick you clean. your thighs tremble and soft gasps pour from your glossy lips.

"need a break, baby." you whine, giving his hair a sharp touch to pull him off of you. or else he would be there all night.

"just a break." he says, moving you down to sit on his abs which only further overstimulates your soaked cunt. "cause i'm nowhere near done with you tonight."

[bzedan]

A specific whim

I got into my head that Tamsyn Muir's The Unwanted Guest needed to be bound to look like a Samuel French script. You know them, if you've done theatre. And although they've redesigned their covers, they looked the same for a very long time. I'd hoped to unearth one of mine as a reference (No Exit, by Jean Paul Sartre), but I have no idea where it disappeared to in the two decades and half-dozen moves since I first marked it up.

Luckily, "vintage" acting editions abound in the second-hand world and I was able to find reference images to suit. I think I did a good job getting the vibe right. I made three copies, two gifts and one for me (which worked out great since I fully forgot orientation for my printer and the inside cover of my copy is upside down).

For this bind I added a lot of fluff, like inside covers advertising posters, other scripts available from the Mithraeum Play Service Inc. library and a new play available - The Noniad.

I also wrote little character descriptions, which I'm proud of. Luckily the script book I had to hand to physically ref was also a two-person play so it helped with the vibe. The inside text block is… fine. I realised way too late that I had mucked up the scene headers, so we won't look at those.

Also fun: text on the spine. You know, to become completely rubbed off as your sweaty hands keep fussing with the script as you completely destroy it while memorising your lines. Probably nowhere near accurately bound but it gives the vibes.

This was a delight to do, and (other than messing up the scene headers) they turned out exactly as I'd hoped and imagined. The covers were off-cuts from a photo backdrop! The perfect colour I think.

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Seven

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

(btw they're werewolves)

Lestappen X Reader

Series Masterlist

"I'm sorry, Beastie," your handler whispered as she brushed through your hair. "But you understand why I did it, right? Why I pulled you out of there?"

You swallowed behind your muzzle and nodded your head. But no, you didn't understand it. You were good, you were safe. You weren't going to hurt them. For once, you felt in control.

She pet your head and stood up. "Get into bed now, Beastie. You've got a big day tomorrow." She pulled off your muzzle and shock collar, leaving you to climb into the hotel room bed.

You sat there, beneath the sheets. Music played softly, piano music. It had your head feeling quiet and peaceful. Not thinking too much and what you were thinking about didn't have you writhing with anxiety.

But you weren't ready to sleep, not yet. You gripped the sheets and stared at the ceiling. You were thinking about the qualifying, but not stressing about it. A happy little rumble started in your chest.

You didn't know what was happening outside of your room. You didn't know that Max Verstappen had knocked on your hotel room door. You didn't hear it, too wrapped up in Charles's piano music.

He had seen you, really seen you, touched you too. You touched your own cheek, nowhere near as comforting as when he had touched you. A little squeal left your lips and you kicked your legs, pushing away the blankets. Maybe he would play for you, if you asked him.

Who were you kidding? You could never ask him.

Your handler opened the door. She sucked in a breath as she looked at the man in the doorway. "Mister Verstappen," she said, immediately assuming the worst.

You had done something and he was mad about it. Maybe you had bitten or scratched him or Charles. He was mad about something, that was clear.

"Can I come in?" Max asked, holding back a growl. He breathed in. Human, she was entirely human.

Your handler stepped to the side. "Of course," she said and allowed him into your hotel room.

Max walled in. He searched around for any sign of you, but there was nothing. Nothing to indicate that the hotel room was yours, that you were the one racing this weekend.

She welcomed Max to sit with her, offered her something to drink. He shook his head, but she made herself a cup of tea and came to sit opposite him. "What can I help you with, mister Verstappen?" She asked, wrapping her fingers around her mug.

Max drummed his fingers against the table. "I want to know why," he began, still searching for any sign of you. "Why do you treat her the way you do?"

Your handler released a sigh. "It's not that I want to treat her this way," she confessed, eyes on her mug. "The way they raised her in this awful place left her feral and terrified. I do what I have to in order to keep her safe and everyone around her safe."

"But you call her Beastie," he challenged.

She nodded her head. "Yes," she said, her grip on her mug growing tighter. "When I met her, that was all she would respond to. She has grown so much since then, you wouldn't believe."

Max took a moment to look around. He spied the door with the lock on it. A plastic lock, something parents get to stop their young children opening things they weren't supposed to. Simple, yet effective. "Why do you keep her shut away at night?"

She let out a laugh and raised the mug to her lips. "Trust me, she could get through that thing in less than a second if she wanted to," she said and lowered the mug to the table.

Max braced himself for his next question, one he was sure he didn't want the answer to. "Why doesn't she talk?" He asked, his fingers no longer drumming against the table.

Your handler sucked in a breath. "Did you know she hasn't spoken a word to me? All I have are theories and each theory is more terrible than the last. I don't want to know what they did to my little Beastie, she didn't deserve whatever it was."

Max swallowed a lump. "Do you know that she spoke to me today?" He asked. Breathing in, a sour smell burnt his nostrils. It drew his attention back to your door.

Your handlers face lit up. "She spoke to you?" She asked, unable to hide her surprise. "What did she say?"

"Birdy," Max said, smiling slightly. "She told me she wanted to be called Birdy." Birdy. Birdy. Birdy. He could have repeated your name forever.

"Birdy," your handler whispered to herself. She gave a small smile and sipped her tea.

Something was wrong, Max could feel it immediately. He stood so quickly that his chair fell away from him. "Birdy," he called as he ran over to the door and pried the lock off.

"Wait, Mister Verstappen!" Your handler called, but he ignored it and threw the door open.

There you sat. No, not you, a scruffy little wolf. It was you, he could tell immediately, dropping to his knees in front of you. "Hello, Birdy girl," he whispered.

You whimpered, ducking your head and looking up at him with wide eyes, a sign of submission. "Oh Birdy," he whispered and reached out to brush his hand through your fur.

But you got him first, your teeth touching his hand. He released a gasp but instantly relaxed. You weren't biting him, just holding his hand in your mouth. "You're okay," he whispered.

No, you weren't okay. Another whimper left your lips and you released your hold of his hand, backing away from him, away from your handler. She was going to punish you, you knew.

"Come on, Birdy," he whispered. "Talk to me."

But you couldn't. You buried your head beneath your blanket, hiding yourself.

Max finally noted the music playing in the room. Charles's music, he realised. You were listening to Charles's music.

He sat on the end of the bed and did the only thing he could think of. "Do you know that Charles and I are really good friends?" He asked and watched as your tail moved. "Actually, Charles might be my favourite person ever. He really likes you, Birdy."

You sat up, blanket falling off your head. "Oh yeah, he thinks you're wonderful, and I'm starting to see why. He's gonna love seeing your wolf one day, Birdy. But he needs you for the race tomorrow. The human you."

You didn't change immediately, but he didn't expect you to. You sat by him, listening to him talk about Charles. Eventually, you fell asleep, lulled by his voice. Your body changed and he pulled a blanket over you. "Good, Birdy Girl," he whispered and walked away.

A/n: i would love to know what you guys think of the Handler now

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[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1880 - labyrinth of my heart

chapter summary: When walking the streets of Chicago he spots you across the street, so real, so alive. Logan takes this as a second chance; but fear slowly slithers up, making him wonder if he'll lose you all over again.

word count: 9.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: first, i want to say thank you so much for the support and love for this series! this is way shorter than the first chapter, only because i wanted the ending to feel abrupt to hopefully make it feel more realistic. anyways, i'm super excited for next chapter since it's a concept i haven't ever really done before. but for now, enjoy this while it lasts :)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, outdated mindsets on women, character death

series masterlist - chapter 1 → chapter 3

Logan left New York City after you died, going back to Victor who told him exactly what he expected to hear, ‘you shouldn’t have fallen in love,’ and ‘the only people we can trust is each other’.

The Civil War had begun seven years after your death as he and Victor fought for the North for four whole years. There was one thing he always kept with him, the ring he bought for you, that he never got to use. It stayed in his pocket at all times, never leaving, always there.

He had been doing the same thing he was doing before he met you, moving around the country, never staying in a spot for too long, doing odd jobs to stay afloat.

Logan found himself in Chicago, walking along the sidewalk, the faint sound of a train in the distance. The air was heavy with the scent of coal smoke, the city bustling with life in the late afternoon. Men in long coats and women in modest dresses hurried past him, some tipping their hats in his direction as he walked by. It was just another city to him, another place he would pass through on his way to nowhere in particular.

It had been 26 years since you died. Twenty-six long years, but to Logan, it still felt like yesterday. The weight of your loss hadn’t lessened. If anything, it had only grown heavier. Every town, every face he saw, reminded him of you in some way. That soft smile you always wore, the way you’d brush your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. He kept your memory alive in the smallest of ways. The ring he’d never had the chance to give you stayed in his pocket, its presence a constant, painful reminder.

He walked without a destination, his mind lost in the past as his feet carried him down the streets of Chicago. The city had a pulse of its own, far different from the quiet life in New York where you’d once lived, where you had died in his arms. He hadn't felt truly alive since then—just going through the motions of life, the decades slipping by as if time itself didn’t matter.

As Logan neared a small schoolhouse, something caught his eye. A group of children were gathered outside, their laughter echoing through the street as they played. But it wasn’t the children that caused Logan to stop. It was the woman standing among them, her smile bright as she helped one of the younger boys tie his shoe. The world around him seemed to blur, fading away as his gaze locked onto her.

It was you.

Logan’s heart stilled in his chest. He blinked, sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but there you were, the same face, the same gentle presence. You looked exactly as you had all those years ago—maybe a little younger, maybe a little different, but unmistakably you.

For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stood there, watching you laugh with the children, completely unaware of his presence. His mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. You were dead. He had been there. He had held you as you took your last breath, felt the life leave your body. And yet, here you were, as if the last 26 years had never happened.

Logan’s feet moved on their own, pulling him closer to the schoolyard. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. His mind raced with a thousand questions. How could this be? Was it some kind of dream? A cruel trick?

But the closer he got, the more real you became. You were wearing a simple dress, your hair tied up in a way he hadn’t seen before, and yet everything about you felt so familiar. The way you carried yourself, the warmth in your eyes as you spoke to the children—it was all you.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called out, his voice rougher than he intended.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his for the first time, and Logan felt his heart lurch. It was like being thrown back in time—like the years between this moment and the day you died had vanished. You looked at him with a polite curiosity, but there was no recognition in your eyes. No flicker of memory. To you, he was just a stranger.

“Yes, can I help you?” you asked, your voice soft, kind.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly explain what was running through his mind? How could he tell you that he had loved you, that he had lost you, and that now—somehow—you were standing in front of him again?

“I... I thought I knew you,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. He didn’t trust himself to say more. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the ring in his pocket suddenly feeling heavier than ever.

You smiled, but it was the smile of someone trying to be polite, not of someone who knew him. “I don’t think we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Y/N. I’m the schoolteacher here.”

Logan swallowed hard. Of course, you wouldn’t remember. You had no idea who he was, no memory of the life you’d lived before. To you, this was just another day, another moment. But to Logan, it was everything. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. You were here, alive again, but you weren’t his Y/N. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m Logan,” he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, his heart aching in a way that felt both familiar and new.

You nodded, offering another warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. Was there something you needed?”

Logan shook his head slowly, still reeling from the shock of seeing you again. “No,” he said quietly. “No, I... I just thought you looked like someone I used to know.”

You tilted your head slightly, a curious look in your eyes. “I get that sometimes. Chicago’s a big city, but it can feel small.”

Logan nodded, though his mind was far from this moment. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some kind of miracle—a second chance. But what could he do with it? Could he approach you, tell you everything? Or would that only drive you away?

Before he could say anything more, the school bell rang, and the children started to gather their things. You glanced back at the sound, then looked at him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to get back to my class. But maybe I’ll see you around?”

Logan nodded, his throat too tight to respond with words. He watched as you turned and walked back toward the schoolhouse, his heart aching with the weight of all the things he couldn’t say.

For the first time in 26 years, Logan felt hope stir in his chest. You were here. You were alive. And even if you didn’t remember him, even if you didn’t know who he was... he couldn’t walk away. Not this time.

---

Logan stayed near the schoolyard most afternoons, hidden just enough not to draw attention, watching you from a distance. It felt strange, almost painful, standing there, knowing you had no idea who he was. Every time you emerged from the schoolhouse with Ida, another schoolteacher, chatting and laughing, the urge to approach you tugged at him. But fear held him back—fear that you’d think he was insane, or worse, that you’d reject him outright.

He clenched his fists inside his coat pockets, feeling the cool metal of the ring press against his palm. It had been with him through wars, across states, through lifetimes. And now, here you were, alive again, and he still didn’t know what to do with it.

It was absurd, the way his heart raced just from seeing you walk down the street. How after all these years—after so much pain—hope could sneak its way back in. This wasn’t just a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Logan wasn’t the type to believe in magic or miracles, but what else could explain this?

As he lingered, the school bell rang, signaling the end of another day. Children poured out of the building, laughing and running. A few hung on your arms as you walked them down the steps, their chatter filling the air.

Logan shifted from foot to foot, nerves prickling along his spine. Just talk to her, idiot. You’ve been through worse.

But when you stepped into the street, Ida at your side as usual, the words died in his throat.

“Y/N, you coming for dinner at my place tonight?” Ida asked, tucking a stray curl beneath her bonnet.

You smiled, brushing your hands on your skirts. “Can’t tonight, but I’ll stop by tomorrow. The kids wore me out today.”

Ida chuckled. “You’ll turn into an old maid before you’re thirty at this rate.”

You rolled your eyes, but your laugh was warm. Logan felt the sound of it settle deep in his chest—like an old memory coming back to life. It was a laugh he hadn’t heard in 26 years, and it took everything in him not to run to you right then and there.

As you and Ida turned the corner toward the tenement, Logan followed at a distance. His heart hammered against his ribs. He just needed a moment, a chance to say something—anything.

Finally, the two of you paused outside the building. Ida gave you a quick hug before heading upstairs, leaving you alone on the stoop. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your shawl against the evening chill.

This is it. Now or never.

Logan forced his feet to move, crossing the street toward you.

You looked up as he approached, a little surprised but not alarmed. “Logan, wasn’t it?”

His throat felt tight, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Logan.”

You smiled softly, the same kind smile that had haunted his dreams. “What brings you by?”

He cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “I... I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Your brow furrowed slightly, but there was no fear, only curiosity. “About what?”

Logan shifted his weight, his hands tightening around the edges of his coat. The ring in his pocket seemed to burn against his skin, a reminder of everything unsaid.

“I... You remind me of someone,” he admitted, voice low. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze steady but gentle. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It was.”

There was a beat of silence between you—heavy, charged with the weight of all the things Logan couldn’t say. You didn’t know him, didn’t know what you’d meant to him in another life, but standing here, so close to you again, it felt like the world had tilted back into place.

“You... wanna walk for a bit?” Logan asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Something in his expression must’ve stirred your kindness, because you nodded. “Alright.”

The two of you started down the sidewalk together, the city humming around you. Logan kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, fingers brushing the ring again and again like a talisman.

“So, how long have you been in Chicago?” you asked, glancing over at him.

Logan shrugged. “Not long. Just passing through.”

You gave a small smile. “It’s a good place to get lost in for a while.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Guess so.”

The conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm after that—small talk, nothing too deep. Logan told you bits and pieces about his travels, careful not to reveal too much. He learned that you’d moved to Chicago a couple of years ago, taking the teaching job because it felt right.

“I’ve always liked working with kids,” you said with a soft smile. “There’s something... hopeful about it, you know?”

Logan nodded, though hope had been a foreign concept to him for a long time. But walking beside you now, listening to your voice, he felt something stir in him—a flicker of warmth he thought he’d lost forever.

As the evening deepened and the sky turned a dusky purple, you reached your building again. You stopped on the stoop, turning to face him.

“Thank you for the walk,” you said, your smile gentle. “It was nice.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. “Yeah. It was.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still—like the universe had bent just enough to give him this moment with you. And even though you didn’t remember him, didn’t know the history you shared, Logan knew he couldn’t let you slip away again.

“Y/N...” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You tilted your head, waiting.

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. “Can I see you again?”

Your smile widened, something warm flickering in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

Logan gave a short nod, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Good,” he murmured.

And for the first time in 26 years, Logan allowed himself to believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he’d found his way back to you.

---

You had taken up Ida’s offer after all, you lived in the same building so it wasn’t like it was out of the way for you.

“Oh, hey! Thought you weren’t gonna come by.”

You shrugged, taking off your shawl, “changed my mind.” You sat down on the couch and told Ida about your walk with Logan, and she listened intently.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed him. He’s been watching the schoolyard for the past few weeks.”

"Wait, what do you mean, ‘he’s been watching the schoolyard for weeks?’” you asked, your brows knitting together as you leaned forward.

Ida waved her hand dismissively but gave you a sly smile. “Oh, don’t get the wrong idea. He hasn’t been creepy about it or anything. Just... noticed him hanging around, that’s all. Kind of hard to miss a guy like that, don’t you think?”

You blinked, a sudden flush creeping up your neck. “A guy like what?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” she teased, sitting down across from you. “Tall, rugged... that serious, brooding look. You’re telling me you didn’t notice? He’s practically been glued to the corner across from the schoolhouse for days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, thinking back to the walk you’d just had with Logan. You hadn’t seen him watching the school, but now that Ida mentioned it... there had been something in his eyes. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place, like he was looking at you but seeing something—or someone—else.

“I didn’t know he was hanging around,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. “But... he seems kind. Sad, but kind.”

Ida leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest with a thoughtful hum. “Sad, huh? You picked up on that, too?”

You nodded, feeling a strange tightness in your chest. There had been a weight to Logan’s presence, something unspoken in his voice, like he was carrying the world on his shoulders. And then there was the way he looked at you—like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to.

“You think he’s okay?” you asked quietly.

Ida shrugged, her teasing expression softening. “Who knows? The world’s a tough place. We all got our own burdens to carry. But... maybe he’s looking for something.”

“Looking for what?”

“Maybe someone to share the load,” she replied with a small smile, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe that someone’s you.”

You shook your head, the idea seeming too far-fetched. “I don’t even know him, Ida. I mean, we just talked for the first time today.”

“Hey, stranger things have happened,” Ida said, getting up to grab a pot of tea from the stove. “You felt something, right? That’s not nothing.”

You sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I guess. He did say I reminded him of someone he lost.”

Ida paused, setting the teapot down carefully. “Lost, huh? That would explain the sad part. But... why hang around you then? What’s he hoping to find?”

“I don’t know,” you murmured, more to yourself than to her. The idea that Logan had been watching you, even unknowingly, made something stir in your chest—a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite name.

Ida handed you a cup of tea, sitting back down beside you. “Well, maybe next time you see him, you can ask.”

You looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Ask him why he’s hanging around the schoolyard?”

Ida laughed softly. “Maybe not that bluntly, but yeah. There’s something about him, Y/N. Might be worth finding out what.”

You sipped the tea, the warmth spreading through you. Maybe Ida was right. Maybe Logan was carrying something heavy, and maybe—just maybe—you could help.

---

The next day, you found yourself more aware of your surroundings as you walked to the schoolhouse. Every sound, every movement seemed sharper. You scanned the street, looking for a familiar figure, but Logan wasn’t there—at least, not that you could see.

The day went on as usual, though you felt a bit distracted, your mind drifting to the walk you’d shared with him. There was something about Logan that pulled at you, a quiet intensity that you couldn’t shake. He was a mystery, and part of you wanted to solve it.

When the school day ended, you lingered outside a little longer than usual, hoping—half-expecting—that he might show up again. The children ran off, their laughter echoing down the street as they disappeared into their homes. You smiled at the sight, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

“Looking for someone?”

You jumped slightly, turning to find Logan standing just a few feet away. He had approached so quietly you hadn’t even heard him.

“Logan,” you said, surprised but not unwelcome. “I didn’t see you.”

He gave a small shrug, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

You smiled softly, your heartbeat slowing as the initial surprise wore off. “It’s alright. Just didn’t expect to see you today.”

Logan shifted his weight, his gaze flicking to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wanted to see if you’d like to take another walk. If you’re not too tired, that is.”

You hesitated, but only for a second. There was something in his voice—something vulnerable, almost hesitant. And despite not knowing him well, you found yourself wanting to say yes.

“I’d like that,” you said, stepping down from the schoolhouse stoop.

The two of you started walking again, this time in a different direction, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the street. For a while, neither of you spoke. It was a comfortable silence, though, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. Logan walked beside you, his steps steady but deliberate, like he was trying to figure something out.

“Why’ve you been hanging around the school?” you finally asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “Ida said she noticed you there for a while.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. “I wasn’t trying to... I don’t know. I guess I was just... drawn there.”

“Drawn there?” you echoed, glancing up at him.

He nodded, his gaze fixed ahead. “Yeah. Like I said before, you remind me of someone.”

You didn’t press, sensing that whatever it was, it was personal. Instead, you walked in silence for a few more steps before Logan stopped abruptly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning to face you fully. His eyes were intense, but there was something almost apologetic in them. “If I am, just tell me, and I’ll leave you alone.”

You shook your head quickly. “No, you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

Logan studied your face, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he gave a small nod, almost as if he was relieved.

“Alright,” he said quietly.

The conversation shifted after that, lightening as you talked about small things—the city, your students, even the weather. Logan listened more than he spoke, but you could feel him relax bit by bit, the tension in his posture easing as the afternoon wore on.

When you reached your building again, Logan stopped with you on the stoop. There was a moment of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked, offering him a small smile.

Logan looked at you for a long beat before nodding. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you turned to head inside, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. Logan was still standing there, watching you with that same look in his eyes—the one that made you feel like you were more than just a stranger to him.

And in that moment, you realized... you didn’t want to be just a stranger to him either.

---

After about a week of Logan walking you home, it became a familiar routine. Each time, you’d stand on the stoop, exchanging a few words before you’d head inside, always with that lingering feeling of something left unsaid. But tonight was different—the air was colder, and the wind was biting, so when you reached your building, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re not going out in that cold again,” you said firmly, reaching for his arm. He tensed slightly under your touch, but you ignored it, tugging him toward the door. “Ten minutes outside in the cold, you need to warm up before you go.”

Logan didn’t protest, but you could sense his hesitation. He glanced around the dimly lit hallway as you led him up the stairs to your small apartment.

“Don’t worry,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. “I won’t keep you long. Just until you can feel your fingers again.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, following you inside. Once you were both in, you motioned for him to sit down on the worn couch, tossing your shawl onto a chair as you made your way to the stove to boil some water for tea.

Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning the modest space, before finally sitting down. His presence seemed to fill the room, making it feel smaller, more intimate.

“You don’t gotta fuss,” he muttered, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “I’m alright.”

“Humor me,” you replied with a soft smile, setting a kettle on the stove. “Besides, I’ve been dragging you along on these walks. Least I can do is make sure you’re not freezing to death.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back into the couch. His eyes followed your movements, though his expression stayed guarded. He looked... cautious, like he wasn’t sure how to be here with you, in this space. It was strange, this carefulness, coming from a man who seemed so unbreakable.

“Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” you asked, turning to face him while the water heated up. “We’ve been walking for a week, and I feel like I barely know you.”

Logan’s gaze shifted, and you could tell he was weighing his words. “Not much to tell,” he said after a beat. “Just a guy who’s been around a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “That’s it? No family, no friends? You just... wander?”

He looked down at his hands, his fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of the couch. “Had family once. Friends, too. Lost most of ‘em.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, and you could feel the weight of his words. You didn’t push him, though. Instead, you poured the hot water into two cups, walking over and handing him one.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “That must’ve been hard.”

Logan took the cup but didn’t drink right away. He stared down into the tea, his expression unreadable. “Life’s hard for everyone,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You sat down beside him, the warmth from the cup seeping into your hands. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, sipping tea and letting the quiet fill the space. There was something about being near him that made you feel calm, like the world slowed down for a little while when he was around.

“Why’d you let me walk with you?” Logan asked suddenly, his voice rougher than before.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “Most people wouldn’t... They’d be scared, or they’d push me away. But you... you let me stay.”

You frowned, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know... I guess I just felt like... I should.” You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious under his intense gaze. “Besides, you’re not exactly a scary guy. Brooding, sure, but not scary.”

A small, barely-there smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re not afraid of much, are you?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not really. I mean, what’s the point of being afraid? Life’s hard enough without worrying about things that might not even happen.”

Logan’s smile faded, replaced by that familiar look of sadness. He stared into his cup for a moment, then set it down on the table in front of him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess you’re right.”

The silence stretched between you again, but this time it felt heavier, like there was something unsaid hanging in the air. You could feel it, pressing down on both of you, but neither of you seemed ready to break it.

Finally, Logan stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. “I should go,” he said, though he didn’t make a move toward the door.

You stood up too, your heart pounding a little harder than usual. “Logan...”

He turned to face you, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite place. “Yeah?”

You took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm again. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” you said softly.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, without saying a word, he nodded once, a silent acknowledgment that you didn’t need to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly before turning to leave.

You watched him go, your heart heavy but hopeful. There was something between you—something unspoken, something old—and you weren’t ready to let it go.

Not yet.

---

It had taken a few more days to convince Logan to come back into your apartment. You weren’t sure how you convinced him this time, but you were happy that you did.

Your apartment smelled nice and homey. Before you had left for work, you had put bread in the oven to bake, and now, as you came back home with Logan in tow, it was finished. The warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread filled the room as you stepped inside. Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering for a moment before following you in, his expression unreadable but curious.

You busied yourself with the bread, slicing into the crust and offering Logan a piece. He took it, though his attention seemed more focused on you than the food.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite.

You smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up just from him being here. "I was thinking..." you started, turning to grab a couple of plates from the cupboard. "Maybe we could go into the city tomorrow? It’s market day. There's a lot to see, and it’d be nice to get out of the schoolhouse routine for a bit."

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. "Market, huh?"

"Yeah, you know, just... walk around. Maybe pick up a few things." You looked over at him, half expecting him to decline, but to your surprise, he didn’t.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but without hesitation. "I’ll come with you."

You smiled, feeling a small flutter of excitement in your chest. "Great. It’ll be fun. I promise."

---

The next day, you found yourself walking through the bustling streets of Chicago with Logan by your side. The market was crowded, full of people haggling and chatting, the air thick with the smell of fresh produce, spices, and the occasional whiff of roasting meat. It was a world away from the quiet walks you'd shared, and you could feel Logan's unease in the busy atmosphere. But he stayed close, his hand brushing yours more than once as you wove through the crowd.

"Do you come here often?" Logan asked, his eyes scanning the vendors with mild interest.

"Once or twice a month," you replied. "I like the energy here. Makes the city feel alive, you know?"

Logan grunted in response, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced. You could tell he wasn’t used to this—being around so many people—but he stuck close to you, his presence protective without being overbearing.

After a while, you stopped at a stall selling flowers. The colors were vibrant, a burst of life in the middle of the dusty street. You picked up a small bouquet of wildflowers, smiling as you held them up.

"These are my favorite," you said, glancing up at Logan. "They're simple but... I don't know, they make me happy."

Logan’s gaze softened as he looked at the flowers in your hand, then back at you. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of something unspoken, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a few coins, handing them to the vendor before you could protest.

"Logan, you don’t have to—"

"Consider it a thank you," he said quietly, cutting you off. "For the bread."

You blinked, surprised but touched by the gesture. "Well, thank you."

He nodded, and the two of you continued walking, the flowers resting in the crook of your arm as the city bustled around you. For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the sounds of the market fading into the background as the two of you wandered further from the busy streets. Eventually, you found a quiet park at the edge of the city, a small, peaceful space away from the noise.

You sat down on a bench, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. Logan sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his eyes always scanning the area, as if he couldn’t fully let his guard down.

"Do you ever stop looking over your shoulder?" you asked, half teasing but curious.

Logan’s mouth twitched into a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Old habit."

You studied him for a moment, sensing there was more behind those words. He had a way of holding himself, like he was always ready for something, always waiting. It made you wonder just how much he’d seen, how much he’d lived through.

"I’m glad you came with me today," you said softly, looking out at the park. "I feel like I’ve been stuck in a routine for a while now. It’s nice to just... do something different."

Logan glanced at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. "I’m glad I came too," he admitted, his voice low.

There was something in the way he said it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The air between you felt different, charged with a quiet tension that neither of you seemed willing to break. You wondered if he felt it too—the strange pull between you, like something just beneath the surface was waiting to be uncovered.

After a long pause, Logan spoke again. "I ain’t good at... this." He gestured vaguely, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. "Being close to people."

You turned to him, surprised by the admission. "You’re doing fine," you said gently.

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he shook his head. "It’s not that simple."

You felt a pang of something—sympathy, maybe, or understanding. Whatever it was, it made you reach out, your hand lightly brushing his. "You don’t have to explain," you said softly. "I get it."

Logan’s eyes flickered down to where your hand rested near his. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his hand over, his rough fingers brushing against yours in the faintest of touches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a step—like maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in.

---

As you walked to the tenement building after work one day, you glanced over at Logan. “You ever been to the exhibition hall in the city?”

Logan looked over to you, slightly puzzled by the question. “The exhibition?”

You nodded, turning toward him. “There’s a display of inventions and art from all over. I heard they’ve got this new thing—electric lights. I was thinking about going this weekend, and… maybe you’d like to come with me?”

For a moment, Logan just stared at you, as if unsure what to say. The idea of stepping out into the city, surrounded by people, probably wasn’t something he did often. But he shifted slightly, his eyes softening in that way they did when you caught him off guard.

“You want me to go with you?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Well, yeah,” you said, smiling. “We’ve been walking the same few streets for days. Thought it might be nice to do something different. Besides, I’m curious about those lights. They say it’s going to change the way people live.”

Logan gave a low, thoughtful hum, and for a moment, you worried he might decline. But then he nodded slowly, his expression softening further. “Alright. I’ll go.”

Your smile widened. “Great! We can meet at my place on Saturday afternoon, then head out.”

The conversation drifted back into easier topics—your students, a new bakery that had opened nearby, and the way the city seemed to grow busier every day. But beneath it all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this small invitation marked a shift, a way to see more of who Logan was beyond the quiet man who walked beside you in silence. Maybe out in the world, you’d understand him better.

---

Saturday came quickly, and the two of you walked side by side through the busy streets, the sounds of horses and carriages filling the air. You led Logan through the bustling avenues toward the exhibition hall, your excitement barely contained.

“Ever seen anything like this?” you asked, glancing up at him as the towering hall came into view.

Logan’s eyes flicked over the building, a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not in a while.”

Inside, the hall was a wonder of modern marvels. Booths lined with mechanical inventions, sculptures, and paintings from around the world. The hum of excitement filled the air, and the bright new electric lights cast a strange, almost magical glow over everything.

You wandered the displays together, your curiosity leading the way. Logan stayed close, his attention less on the inventions and more on you. Every now and then, he'd glance at a piece of machinery or a strange-looking contraption, but his eyes kept drifting back to your face, watching the way your expression changed with each new discovery.

"This is incredible," you murmured, leaning in to get a closer look at a large machine labeled as an ‘automatic loom.’ You smiled at Logan, your excitement clear. "Can you imagine how much time this would save?"

Logan nodded, though you could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. "Yeah, I can see how it'd be useful."

You moved to the next display, but Logan lingered for a moment. When he finally caught up, you were already studying a painting—a soft, pastoral scene that contrasted with the industrial energy around you.

"It's beautiful, isn’t it?" you said, glancing at him.

Logan’s gaze flicked to the painting, but quickly returned to you. "Yeah," he said, though it was clear he wasn’t talking about the art.

You felt his eyes on you again and looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something there—something that made your heart skip. Logan had always been protective, always hovering just close enough to shield you if need be. But this felt different, like there was more to it now.

"You sure this ain’t boring for you?" you asked, trying to lighten the moment. "I know you’re not one for crowds."

Logan gave a quiet grunt, his version of a chuckle. "It’s fine. Long as you’re enjoying yourself."

You smiled, touched by the sentiment. "I am. Thanks for coming with me."

For a while, you wandered together in silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the exhibition hall. The crowds around you buzzed with excitement, but the space between you and Logan felt almost separate—like the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

At one point, you stopped in front of a display showcasing early electric light bulbs. "Look at that," you said, pointing to the glass bulbs flickering with soft light. "They’re saying these will replace gas lamps soon."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Doesn’t seem right, replacing something that’s worked for so long."

"Change is good sometimes," you said, glancing at him. "It keeps things moving forward."

Logan met your eyes, his expression soft but thoughtful. "Guess I’ve never been good with change."

You tilted your head slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Maybe you just haven’t found the right reason to embrace it yet."

For a moment, Logan didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you, like he was trying to make sense of something. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Maybe."

As the afternoon wore on, the two of you eventually stepped outside the exhibition hall, the sun low in the sky and the city’s evening glow starting to take over. The air felt cooler now, a welcome relief after the warmth of the crowded hall.

You walked beside Logan in comfortable silence, but the charged undercurrent between you hadn’t faded. It felt like something had shifted—like you’d both acknowledged a deeper connection, even if neither of you had fully put it into words yet.

"You want to get something to eat?" Logan asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you said, smiling up at him. "There’s a place not far from here. They make the best stew."

Logan nodded, falling into step beside you again as you made your way toward the small restaurant you had in mind. The quiet between you was easy, but there was an unspoken understanding that something had changed between the two of you today. Neither of you said it out loud, but you didn’t need to.

As you entered the restaurant, the warm scent of food filled the air, and you found a table near the back, away from the main crowd. Logan took the seat across from you, his eyes scanning the room out of habit, but eventually settling back on you.

"This place isn’t so bad," he said, giving a small nod of approval.

You laughed softly. "Glad it meets your standards."

Logan smirked, but there was a softness behind it. As the two of you talked over dinner, you realized just how much you enjoyed moments like this—quiet, simple, yet meaningful. It wasn’t about grand gestures or fancy places; it was about being together, about the way Logan made you feel safe and seen.

---

One day, after inviting Logan into your apartment once again, you set out to make tea like you always do.

You felt a cough building up in your throat, so you grabbed a small handkerchief from the counter and coughed into it. You had seen the school doctor while you were at work, and he said you just had a mild cold.

Logan, who was sitting on the couch, immediately turned his head to you, his heart almost beating out of his chest. He’d heard that cough before—26 years ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You turned around, still holding the handkerchief to your mouth. "Yeah?" you answered casually, noticing the tension in his voice but thinking nothing of it. “Just a little cough, nothing serious. I saw the doctor earlier, and he said it’s just a cold.”

Logan stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He took a step closer, his mind racing back to 1854, to your last days—bedridden and coughing, just like this. He had lost you then, watching helplessly as the illness took you. He couldn't shake the feeling, the memory, and the fear that history might repeat itself.

"Cold, huh?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an edge to it.

"Yeah, no big deal." You smiled, folding the handkerchief and putting it back in your pocket. "Really, Logan, I’m fine."

Logan’s jaw tightened. He had seen too much, lived too long to believe in coincidence. This was too familiar, too painful. And yet, here you were—alive, vibrant. This time, he couldn’t lose you again. He wouldn't.

"You should take it easy," he said, stepping closer, his tone gentler now. "You been workin' too hard at that school."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing his concern but not quite understanding the depth of it. "I’m fine, really. It’s just a little cold. Nothing that rest and tea won’t fix."

Logan didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently brushed his fingers against your arm, grounding himself in the fact that you were here, with him. This wasn’t 1854. But the memory haunted him.

You noticed the way he was looking at you, his eyes searching yours like he was afraid to lose you. "Hey," you said softly, resting a hand on his. "What’s really going on?"

Logan’s breath hitched for a moment, and he fought the urge to pull you closer, to tell you everything. But how could he? How could he explain that you’d been here before—that he’d watched you die, that he’d loved you once in another life, in another time? Instead, he just shook his head, the weight of those memories too heavy to share.

"Just... don’t push yourself too hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "I’ve seen people get worse when they don’t take care of themselves."

You nodded, though his intensity still lingered in your mind. "I promise, I’ll rest." You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, you’ll make sure I do, right?"

Logan’s lips quirked into the smallest smile, but there was still something distant in his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "I will."

The moment hung in the air, the unspoken weight of Logan’s past pressing down on him, though you couldn’t see it. You were the same, and yet not. The woman he had once loved and lost was standing right in front of him, alive, but without any memory of that life you’d shared.

---

You didn’t see Logan for a few days, which was unusual, ever since he started walking with you he had never missed a day.

You couldn’t help but worry a tad bit, it wasn’t like him to just not be there. Even Ida had made a few comments, including now as you sat in her apartment, just a few doors down from your own, sipping tea.

“He hasn’t been by at all?” Ida asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “That man never misses a day. He’s usually lurking outside, waitin’ to walk you home.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s been three days now.”

Ida leaned forward, her hands folded on the table. “You don’t think somethin’s happened to him, do ya? That man is tough, sure, but even the toughest get into trouble sometimes.”

You shook your head quickly, not wanting to entertain the thought. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just needed some time alone. He’s... not the type to explain himself much.”

Ida hummed, though she didn’t look convinced. “Maybe. But if he doesn’t show up soon, you ought to go find him. He’s a good man, Y/N, and you’ve only known him a month, but it’s clear he cares about you.”

The truth of her words settled over you, heavy and unspoken. You cared about Logan too. Even if you didn’t quite understand the pull between you, it was there—undeniable. And the fact that he hadn’t shown up, without so much as a word, made your chest tighten with worry.

Later that evening, after you’d left Ida’s apartment and returned to your own, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. Logan had become part of your routine, part of your day-to-day life. And now that he was gone, it felt like something was missing.

Just as you were about to turn in for the night, a knock sounded at the door.

Your heart jumped, and you rushed to open it, half expecting—half hoping—it would be Logan.

And there he was.

He stood in the doorway, his coat damp from the light rain outside, his hair slightly tousled. His eyes, though, were what caught you—the familiar intensity, but with something else lurking beneath. Something darker.

“Logan,” you breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “Where have you been? I was starting to get worried.”

Logan stepped into your small apartment, his broad frame somehow filling the space, making it feel even smaller. He didn’t say anything right away, just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts.

“I needed time,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Time for what?” you asked gently, sensing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t easy for him.

Logan glanced at you, then looked away, as if he couldn’t meet your eyes. His jaw tightened, and you could see the struggle on his face—like he was wrestling with something deep inside. After a long pause, he spoke again, quieter this time.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words sounding foreign in his mouth, like he wasn’t used to saying them.

You blinked, taken aback. Logan was the last person you ever expected to hear those words from. “Scared of what?”

His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you saw the vulnerability there, raw and unguarded. “Of losing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan… we’ve only known each other for a month,” you said softly, though the words felt strange even as they left your mouth. Because deep down, it felt like you’d known him much longer—like this connection between you was more than just a month in the making.

“I know,” Logan said, his voice rough. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

There was something in the way he was looking at you, something desperate and pained, like he was holding onto you with everything he had. You wanted to ask him why, to understand what had happened in his past to make him feel this way. But instead, you just reached out, your hand finding his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m right here.”

Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say anything more, he stepped closer, his hand cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed your cheek, his touch rough but gentle, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you, standing in the quiet of your apartment, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

And then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was urgent, almost desperate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t put into words. His lips moved against yours with a fierceness that took your breath away, and for a moment, all you could do was hold onto him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing along your jawline.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your heart ached at the raw honesty in his words, and you wanted to promise him that he wouldn’t—that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere. But something about the way he said it made you hesitate, made you wonder what he wasn’t telling you.

“Logan…” you started, your voice soft. “What aren’t you telling me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. His hand dropped from your face, and he took a step back, his expression guarded once again. The walls he’d let down just moments ago seemed to be rising back up.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said finally, his voice low. “I’ve lost people before. People I cared about. I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but there was something else there too—something unspoken. “Logan… who did you lose?”

His eyes flickered with pain, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he just shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

You wanted to press him, to understand, but you also knew that Logan wasn’t someone who opened up easily. So instead, you just stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle hug. He stiffened at first, but then his arms slowly came around you, pulling you close as if he was afraid to let go.

“I’m here,” you whispered against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For now, that was all you could offer him. And for now, it seemed to be enough.

---

You and Ida sat in the back of the rattling carriage, bundled against the cold, the wheels creaking beneath the weight of your bags from the market. The late afternoon sky was heavy with clouds, promising rain before nightfall and a storm by morning.

“Supposed to come down hard tomorrow,” Ida said, clutching her shawl tighter. “Glad we got everything done now. Don’t wanna be caught in that mess.”

You smiled, shifting a bag of potatoes off your lap. “It’ll be nice to have an excuse to stay in and rest. Logan’s been after me about taking it easy anyway.”

Ida gave you a knowing look, her brow lifting. “That man likes you, Y/N. More than you think.”

You shrugged, though your cheeks warmed slightly. “I know he cares. He’s just… different. Keeps to himself.”

“He’s different, alright,” Ida muttered, peering out the carriage window. “But he’s not the type to care about someone without good reason. Don’t let that one get away.”

You didn’t respond, but your thoughts drifted to Logan—how he had kissed you that night, holding you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. There was something ancient in his touch, like he had carried the weight of loss for far too long. You didn’t fully understand it, but you felt it—something deeper than words or time.

The carriage jolted suddenly, jerking you forward in your seat. The horse up front whinnied, wild and panicked.

“Whoa!” the driver shouted, yanking hard on the reins.

You clutched Ida’s arm, your heart racing. “What’s going on?”

The driver cursed, standing in his seat to get a better look. “The damn harness snapped! The horse—”

Before he could finish, the horse bolted, the broken leather straps slapping wildly behind it. The carriage lurched, and you and Ida were thrown sideways. The wheels screamed as they spun out of control, the driver shouting as he fought to keep it steady.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

The world tilted violently as the carriage careened off the road, slamming into a ditch. Bags spilled across the floor, and you hit your shoulder hard against the side wall. Ida’s scream filled your ears, but the noise was drowned out by the thunder of the collapsing carriage, wood splintering and wheels buckling beneath the weight.

And then—nothing.

The carriage stopped, shuddering to a halt in a twisted heap at the bottom of the ditch. The rain started, light at first, pattering against the wreckage.

---

Logan was walking back toward your tenement building, the collar of his coat turned up against the cold drizzle, when he saw it—just beyond the next block, down by the road.

The sight hit him like a punch to the chest.

A carriage, overturned, one of the wheels still spinning lazily. The horse was gone, its reins dangling uselessly from the harness. People were gathering, but no one dared approach the wreckage yet.

Logan’s heart stopped. He knew—he just knew.

His feet moved before he could think. He sprinted toward the wreck, rain falling harder now, soaking through his clothes. His boots hit the muddy road with heavy thuds, splashing water as he ran faster than any ordinary man should.

By the time he reached the scene, a bystander had climbed down, trying to pry the splintered door open. Logan shoved him aside without a word, claws itching under his skin, ready to tear the door off if need be.

“Someone’s inside!” the man stammered. “Two women—”

Logan didn’t wait. His hands found the edge of the door, and with a growl of effort, he yanked it off the hinges. Inside the crumpled interior, he saw you, half-buried beneath scattered bags.

“Y/N!” His voice cracked, raw and frantic. He dropped to his knees and pulled you free, cradling you in his arms.

You stirred, barely conscious, your head lolling against his chest. Blood streaked your temple, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Logan…?” you whispered, confused, your hand weakly grasping his coat.

“I got you,” Logan said, his voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re gonna be fine.” But even as he said it, dread gnawed at him—this wasn’t fine. It was happening again.

Ida groaned nearby, struggling to sit up, but Logan’s focus was locked on you. He pressed a hand against your side, where your ribs felt wrong under his touch. He could feel the heat of your blood seeping into his fingers.

“No, no, no…” Logan whispered, shaking his head. The storm raged around him, but all he could hear was the shallow rasp of your breathing.

You looked up at him, your gaze unfocused, but your lips curled into the faintest smile. “I told you… I’d rest…”

“Don’t,” Logan begged, his forehead pressing against yours. “Don’t do this. Stay with me. You hear me? Stay.”

You blinked slowly, your hand slipping from his coat. “I… tried…”

Logan clenched his jaw, biting down hard against the scream building in his chest. His healing mutation would keep him alive through anything—but it couldn’t save you. Not now. Not again.

He kissed your forehead, his breath shuddering. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. Not like this…”

Your breath hitched once, then stopped.

“No,” Logan whispered, rocking you in his arms. “No, no, no…”

His hands trembled as he pulled you closer, your lifeless body limp against him. The rain poured down harder, drumming on the wreckage, but Logan didn’t care. He sat there, holding you, feeling the familiar, soul-crushing emptiness settle in his chest like an old wound tearing open again.

And still, he held you. Because this time, just like 26 years ago, he couldn’t let go.

in this chapter logan is 48 years old and reader is around 22-24 years old. just a reminder that going forward there is going to be an age gap between the two since logan obviously keeps getting older.

[auroracalisto]

the way i want you.

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader, 1.4k words summary: the reader is one of eloise's closest friends... and madly in love with benedict bridgerton. at a ball, he reveals his true feelings to them. a/n: the only mention of the reader being female is the dress and corset they are wearing. so. if you pretend to not read that, it could be gender neutral. this was an old draft with like two paragraphs that i started looking at. idk why it’s written in lowercase but the vibe is there and i'm not changing it. GIRL I JUST CHECKED AND I STARTED THIS IN APRIL OF 2022. bye. absolutely insane. (thank you past me, i actually really appreciate the inspo)

if there was anything you knew for certain, it was that you were madly in love with your dearest friend’s elder brother.

being near him made your heart thunder against the confines of your chest, threatening to be loud enough for all to hear.

your hands began to tremble, your voice began to waver.

the love you felt for him was so very obvious to everyone, it seemed, save for benedict.

eloise poked fun while penelope scolded her (for she, too, understood what it was like to love a bridgerton who didn't love her back). but deep down, eloise knew you would love her brother like no other. marriage might have been a fine prospect for benedict, but if he were to marry you, he would never wish for someone to love—you would be everything that he would need.

eloise had even quipped a time or two, teasing her brother and goading him into thinking about you. not that she would tell you, of course.

but love was a fickle thing. it worked in the oddest of ways, and quite frankly, it was hard to tell who benedict truly loved, if he loved at all.

he loved himself, and he loved his family. but eloise’s friend? the girl whom was just a few years younger than he, the one he saw blossom into a woman after several years of puberty? how could he possibly love her?

you wished he did. oh, it was a wish you made on the stars above more often than not. at any point in time, when you saw the first stars dot the sky, the wish would leave your lips.

let him love me.

please let him see me.

please let him know.

was it odd? perhaps. but in this world of expensive balls and beautiful debutantes, it didn’t seem too farfetched—especially when you loved someone. it would hurt to see them go off and love another, would it not?

your heart wasn't kind.

time wasn’t kind.

neither was your father or the corset you wore or the ballgown that seemed to itch in every crevice possible.

of course you had to choose the worst dress of all the ones you owned for this accursed ball! a repeat dress, to say the least. someone would snitch—you were sure it would be raved all about in lady whistledown's next pamphlet.

your mother was nowhere to be found while your father mingled with some of his military friends. eloise was hiding somewhere, most likely with penelope or by the buffet, and most of the bridgertons’ that had come to the ball were out in the ballroom floor, including anthony and colin.

but where was benedict?

you wouldn’t ask him to dance, despite your dance card being blank. you just wanted to see him—see his handsome face, his pretty smile.

lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize a man was creeping up behind you until a hand found its way to your back. you nearly dropped your flute of champagne, wide eyed as you looked back at the culprit. champagne splashed by your gown, and you said a silent thank you to whatever the universe had done to prevent your repeat dress being ruined by none other than the very man of your thoughts—benedict bridgerton.

“what on earth are you doing?” you asked, quickly turning to face him.

“just coming to see my sister’s friend,” he said, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. “am i not allowed to come and talk to you anymore, miss y/n?”

your eyes widened a bit. “you—of course you’re allowed. i will not tell you what to do. but to scare me like that? what if i had spilled this on you?"

“oh, i beg your pardon,” he said. “i didn’t know you were so jumpy. had i’d known, perhaps i would’ve tried to actually scare you.”

“you are a fiend, benedict bridgerton.”

he grinned. “and you love me for it, do you not?”

your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you looked away. you cleared your throat, avoiding what you truly wanted to say: yes. “why aren’t you dancing?”

“hm. well, i was, but when mother wasn’t looking, i slipped away.”

“she’ll get onto you.”

“perhaps,” he said, scrunching his nose. “but if i’m talking to you, she will excuse it.”

you rolled your eyes. “and why is that?”

“you’re eloise’s friend. she’ll excuse it.”

you purse your lips. right. just eloise’s friend. you let out a soft sigh and nod, looking out at the ballroom floor. the song was soft and light and the party-goers danced slowly with their partners. it was a sweet song, if you had to admit to anything that night.

you wouldn’t admit your love for benedict. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. not now, not ever.

something catches benedict’s eye and he would have up and left had he not been thinking. he cleared his throat as he looked down at you.

“come with me,” he said.

eyebrows furrowed, you glanced at him. “what?”

“you heard me,” he said. “come with me.”

you do as you’re told. you follow him, and he leads you in to a hallway. there are a few other patrons, so you are not alone with a man (oh, god, imagine the scandal), but he specifically leads you to a painting in the middle of the hall.

“a painting?” you asked.

“not just any painting,” he said. “look at it. what does it remind you of?”

you shift where you stand, looking up at it. the oil pastels are beautiful, yes, but it’s a simple painting of a beautiful woman. what’s it to remind you of?

“it looks like your sister,” you said.

he snorted softly. “no,” he said. “it’s beautiful, yes, but that’s not what i wanted you to look at.”

he pointed towards the background. just beyond the portrait of the woman lay a field of beautiful flowers, each one meticulously painted by whomever the painter had been. it looked like it must have taken a painstakingly long time to paint each individual one.

“it reminds me of all the time i do not have,” you simply said.

“oh, you are no fun, y/n!” he said. he looked down at you and smiled. “they remind me of you.”

you blinked slowly. “what?”

“beautiful and yet so unattainable, hm?”

you blinked again. “i beg your pardon?”

“look at them,” he said. “each one unique in their own way, each one hand painted by someone with enough gumption to keep on with it. whoever did it wanted their painting to be utterly beautiful and difficult to recreate. all the fine detail makes the painting that much more extraordinary.”

“wait, wait, benedict, unattainable?”

“right. well if i wanted to recreate this, it would take me some time, wouldn’t it?”

“benedict. how would something like that remind you of me?”

he smiled at you for a moment before he softly said: “you’re eloise’s friend. i couldn’t do that to her.”

“do what?”

“have you the way i want you.”

it’s simple—those seven words seemed to change everything, and it was one of the most simple things you had ever heard.

your lips part in mild shock and you took a slight step back, looking at benedict in confusion. “are… are you—“

“yes. i am in earnest, y/n.”

“why did you—“

“not say anything sooner? have you seen how aggravating eloise has been recently? i did not need to fuel her ammunition.”

“since when did—“

“for some time now.”

“will you let me—“

“no, i will not,” he interrupted again.

“i swear to the lord above that i will—“

“no swearing,” he said. “just self expression, hm? like the painting?”

“what? benedict, you’re not making any sense.”

“maybe not.” benedict smiled down at you. “come. we should head back. perhaps fill in your dance card for once.”

you frowned. “what will eloise say?”

“i do not care,” he said. “it seems to me that you care far more than i do. besides, do you not hear how she speaks to me? i think she'd be honored."

he’s right—perhaps he’s yet to say anything because the way his life had been. perhaps he hadn’t said a word because of everything he and eloise had talked about. there was always timing, and sometimes, it was just a bit off.

whatever it may be, he was here, and he was true to himself. he wanted you, and he would have you, heedless of your thoughts and what eloise wanted from either of you.

oh, the scandal, dear reader. but as long as the two of you plan to marry, whatever scandal could there truly be?

[sxorpiomooon]

YOUR FS FEELINGS AFTER YOUR FIRST DATE - A PAC READING

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Pile 1-

I think pile 1's fs will meet them right after their breakup with someone or right after they had let go of something very big, something that no longer served them. Also the first thing I got was shutting down so they might be really tired when they first see or meet you and I also think it'll be late at night. I also think this late was very much delayed for some reason? It's almost as if accepting your fate like you try to avoid something so hard but can't stop it from happening so you just give in by the end. That's sort of the vibe for some reason? Lmaaao this is so funny bc right after the date they will immediately feel the need to rush things and they will be scared of rushing things too. This sort of reminds me of how people always say that the moment they met their fs they immediately knew and wanted to marry them that's the vibe. I see things going quickly too right after the first date, i see you guys going on alot of dates together I'm getting a vision of like a roller coaster date? Also you girlies are PRETTY PRETTY I had a vision of those trendy skirts and softy haha. This pile might have girlies with Libra placements I heard venus as well ANYWAYS I think your fs will immediately know it's like they will forget everything and now they are so hyped up to sum up the entire thing I heard "i belong"

Pile 2-

Hmmm I see a conflict here or two people meeting together after years? This kinda second chance romance type shit imma NGL. I also think that there is some history there as I said it might be you guys starting as enemies or simply second chance romance. Right after I wrote this my father started singing a song which basically translates to "don't leave me now" or abhi na jaao chord ke for those who want to give it a listen. Whatever it is oh y'all gonna have your LORES. Anyways I see two people legit being so grumpy on a date 😭😭 sipping their drinks this might be near water or a really pretty scenary I also hear beautiful instruments playing. Anyways all this won't last long bc I see and hear very warm laughter of both of you it's like you know in movies two people fighting something happens and they crack a laugh there's this eye contact and then one of them says or admits that "I missed you" THATS THHE VIBE OML. I see a familiar feeling that you have with an old friend. I heard "old habits die hard" out of nowhere. I also see you guys sort of making a note of learning from your past experiences to build a good solid future. This connection will be tested alot but I do see you guys being resilient. Honestly very beautiful vibe.

Pile 3-

HELL NAWWW LMAAAAAAAAAAAAO THID MAN WILL THINK THAT HE HAS TANKED THE DATE COMPLETELY DESTROYED OVER THIS HE WILL THINK THAT HE IS ABSOLUTELY DONE AND FINISHED AND THAT JE WILL NEVER GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN AND THAY JE IS A LOSER WHO FUCKED THIS CHANCE UP AND FUMBLED A BADDIE LMAAAAAAO. I see this man losing his shit legit whining wailing crying that he fucked up😭😭 I think he sort of a loser when it comes to communication. I jus see him shuttering n shit for those who are watching serendipity embrace(kdrama) the vibe is exactly like that second lead pt teacher lmao. I see him being so anxious after the first date bc he will think that he has tanked it. I think he might come across as someone who's very formal and has alot of attitude but in reality he will just not know how to talk😭 I don't even see him being able to gather the courage to hold eye contact with you. However, I do see something out of nowhere happening whether it will be him being able to meet you again or you texting him something good with happen and he will be very surprised to receive this chance or opportunity

Pile 4-

I don't see a very good vibe overall I won't lie. I see your fs being very confused with the entire date. I just think that things will perhaps not go well for this pile and I know exactly why it'll happen. One person will try to speed things up too much and it will scare the other person off. I just see one person trying to hurry everything up and it just being a big turn off for the other person. I think what this pile can try to do is perhaps not take things too fast and let the other person take their time as well. The more you try to speed things up the more it'll scare the other person off and it will end up in a disappointment. I'm sorry I couldn't give you much positive my pile 4<3

[luvlucia]

unfinished business - sjy

summary: in which jake punishes you for leaving him wanting more || warnings: dom!jake x sub!reader, blowjob, praise, unprotected sex, jake comes inside, rough sex || genre: smut, fluff, established relationship || word count: approximately 1010 || a/n: see the request here!

You giggled as you got on your knees, the pillow Jake had put on the floor cushioning them, as Jake sat in front of you, legs spread open, a smirk on his face. His hands made their way to your head, playing with your hair as peered down into your eyes.

You grabbed the hemline of his sweatpants and pulled them down a little before doing the same with his boxers. His hard cock sat raised in front of you, the tip a bright red, some precum leaking out.

You put your hand on his cock, sliding your hand up and down it slowly a few times before going in and slowly taking it in your mouth. Jake hissed out in pleasure and his grip on your hair tightened.

"Fuck. Just like that." Jake groaned softly.

Your momentum built after hearing his words, loving the praises coming out of his mouth. It always made you feel good, knowing that you made him feel good. It was the same for him.

Moments passed as you continued what you were doing when you felt Jake's hips lift a little, you could feel him holding back from just fucking your face. He didn't want to go too rough right now. Especially when he knew he had to go to practice soon.

After one last lift of his hips, you could both feel and hear Jake cumming. The sounds of his moans and the feeling of the hot and slightly salty liquid entering your mouth egged you on to keep going so that he could finish well as you swallowed his seed.

Once Jake had calmed down, you pulled off of him and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, looking up at him with a slightly dazed look. He looked down at you with all the love in the world in his eyes.

"Stand up, sweetheart." Jake said and so you did, slowly getting up off of the ground and the pillow and standing between his legs. You then felt Jake going to pull your pants down but you stopped him, holding onto his arms.

"You have to go to practice." You said.

"It's okay, baby. I can be a little late." Jake softly said but you weren't having it. You didn't want him getting in trouble or holding the other members up just so that he could fuck you. You thought you'd already satisfied him but he was nowhere near done with you.

"Jake, no. You have to go." You said.

"Y/n..." Jake sighed, groaning a little. He could feel his cock slowly hardening again.

"You have to go to practice." You told him one last time in a soft tone and he just sighed before getting up and pulling his clothes back on. He looked a little upset as he finished fixing himself up.

You stood in front of him, "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to be late."

Jake just sighed, "I know, princess." He softly said. He then leaned in and pecked your lips before pulling away. "I have to go." He said, he'd deal with this later.

When Jake got home later that night, he was severely sexually frustrated. All practice he was struggling with his hard-on, trying his best to stop with his dirty thoughts of you. He needed to have you.. now.

He didn't find you in the living room or kitchen so he went straight to the bedroom and there you were, completely unsuspecting as you had just finished putting on your nightgown, ready for bed.

You glanced over at him and gave him the smile he loved so deeply. "Hey-" You started but were cut off by his lips smashing against yours as he kissed you deeply with no warning.

You moaned against his mouth and he pulled you against him. His hands went to your ass as he caressed it, continuing to kiss you, with tongue now.

He then picked you up and brought you to the bed, setting you down as he pulled away from the kiss. You watched as he got completely undressed, your thighs pressed against one another, completely turned on by his eagerness yet still a bit shocked.

Once Jake had finished getting undressed, he came over to you on the bed and pulled your panties off before pulling your nightgown off as well.

"You know I was thinking about you all practice?" Jake asked as he spread your legs again. "You left me hard for you." He said.

"I'm sorry, Jake. I just didn't want you to be late." You apologized.

"Well, you only made things worse by leaving me to be horny all day." Jake said, his tone cold but soft.

You couldn't find the words to respond to that but you didn't need to say anything because Jake was slipping himself inside. You moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips almost instinctually. Jake started fucking into you roughly, almost in a way to punish you for leaving him the way you did. He was not going to last long after being horny all day.

And Jake didn't because shortly after he was cumming, filling you up. He continued going, he knew you hadn't cum yet. His moans and groans were louder now as he pushed himself to keep going, despite the slight overstimulation that he was starting to feel. When he felt your cunt tighten around his cock and felt your release, he let out a sigh as he continued fucking you through the orgasm before slowing down and coming to a halt.

You relaxed as you felt him rest some of his body weight on you, not all of it though because he didn't want to actually hurt you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him and, of course, he kissed back.

"I'm sorry, Jakey." You softly said after pulling away from the kiss.

Jake sighed in content, "It's okay, honey. You're going to be making it up to me for the rest of the night."

ᥫ᭡ link to my masterlist

[paladinncleric]

Kitchen Capers.

Pairing(s): Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Summary: Jenna and R's attempt at 'cooking'

Warning(s): fluff

Words: 1k+

A/N: Not a big fan of this, but kinda enjoyed writing it. Hope you like it!

Request

"Babe." Jenna poked my cheek as I concentrated on beating my highest score on Flappy Bird.

"What?" I said giving her a quarter of my attention.

"Babe." She poked my cheek again.

"Whaaat?"

"Babeeeee" She said as she repeatedly poked my cheek.

I groaned as I stared at the 'Game Over' on my screen just a few points away from my top score. I looked at her sitting beside me on the couch giving me her best innocent smile as I glared at her.

"Now what exactly do you need me for, Your Highness?"

She climbed up on my lap, straddling me, as she squished my cheeks together causing me to look like a duck, she repeatedly pecked my squished-up lips as I sat there with my arms crossed, which I eventually melted into cause who could resist her kisses? Certainly not me.

"Stop being cute and tell me what you want." I said as I caressed both her thighs exposed from her shorts while she caressed my neck, still in my lap.

"I was thinking we could make pasta to take to my mom's tonight."

"Okay...that sounds easy enough?"

"It's not."

"It's not?"

"I was thinking of making it from scratch..." Said Jenna trailing off absentmindedly playing with my shirt.

"Oh like not the store-bought kind?" I asked and she nodded.

"Well...can you?"

See, after recently moving in together we realized neither of us are all that big into cooking, with me lacking the skill and Jenna's career keeping her away most of the time. So, I've taken up some cooking classes to at least be able to feed both of us. But it's only been like a week so my skills are nowhere near good enough, I don't wanna accidentally poison someone. That's why we've been striving off of takeouts and dinners in her parent's place every once in a while.

Which is also why we've been invited to her family's house tonight for dinner, and Jenna being Jenna was determined to show them that she's capable of living alone without their help.

"Of course I can, I've watched my mom make it a hundred times." She said as she looked at me with furrowed eyebrows.

I chuckled and said to her, "Babe I'm sure you're aware that there's a difference between watching someone make it and making it yourself."

She stared at me annoyed, "Obviously, but how hard can it be right? I'm pretty sure I know all the stuff that goes in there."

"Are you actually sure? Cause we can call your mom an-"

"No! I want to do it all by myself and without her help for once."

I sighed at her stubbornness and said with my eyes narrowed "If I die tonight because of your food, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, baby." She said with a chuckle and a quick kiss to my cheek and got up from my lap already on her way to the kitchen.

I sighed as I fall back on the couch and I pulled out my phone again to try and beat my score for the 5th time, but as soon as I got comfortable Jenna's voice boomed through the house.

"GET YOUR ASS IN THE KITCHEN Y/L/N, I WON'T SAY IT TWICE."

I groaned as I got up and made my way to the kitchen with slumped shoulders and mumbled a quiet "Yes mom."

Jenna immediately turned towards me again and asked with a glare "What was that?" Making it clear she heard me.

"Nothing." I said avoiding eye contact with her.

"That's what I thought. Now, get to work." She said then went back to taking out all the ingredients, which I followed to do after dramatically groaning.

**********

"Uh babe are you sure we added the right things?" I said as I looked at her trying to massage the watery dough.

"I mean, yeah, I'm pretty sure." She said with furrowed eyebrows and flour covering almost every inch of her face. I chuckled as I took a towel and turned her face towards me as I gently cleaned her face. After I was done, I gave her a kiss on her nose as she smiled at me softly and I smiled back.

"Thanks." She whispered.

I caressed her cheek with my hands as I replied, "You're welcome, gorgeous." She kissed my chin then went back to her work.

I watched her struggle for 10 more minutes as I say, " Uh we can check google if you want?"

"No! Nope! I said I'm not taking any help tonight. I'll figure it out myself." Jenna's stubborn ass said.

I sighed as I leaned back against the counter knowing it's gonna take a while. I would try and help her normally, but in these situations I'm even worse than her.

I watched her for a while, now with an hour and a half till we need to leave. When finally, she groaned and pushed away from the dough. She turned around almost into tears. I open my arms for her as she stumbles into it, her holding the back my shirt as I rub her back while trying not to instinctually move away from the wet dough smearing on my shirt from her hands.

"I really thought *sniffle* I could do this."

"Hey it's ok babe, don't be sad. I can totally become the perfect housewife/trophy wife for you after I'm done with my course. I mean, c'mon, at that point I'll almost be a professional chef."

"Shut up." She said with a giggle as she backed away from the hug and wiped under her eyes with her dough hands as she froze.

I saw her analyzing everything with wide eyes, to my dough-covered shirt, to her dough covered clothes from vigorous stirring of the dough, to her face now filled with dough to her hair and the kitchen floor covered in flour. Then finally, her eyes landed on the clock above my head which read exactly an hour left to leave.

"Shit!" She exclaimed as she ran for the bathroom.

"Hey! I need to shower too!" I yelled after her.

"Join me!"

I smirked at that and was about to respond, when she said, "Without your unholy thoughts!"

I laughed to myself, as I quickly cleaned the floor and threw the dough away while trying not to touch it. After about 10 minutes I was done, as I stripped my clothes along the way to the bathroom and threw it on the floor of the laundry room.

I finally got in the shower, as I saw Jenna washing her hair butt naked. I smirked and went to slide my hands around her waist, when she abruptly turned around and said with narrowed eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

I threw my hands up in surrender as I exaggeratedly looked her up and down with a teasing smile on my face. She groaned and went back to showering as I joined her under the water.

**********

After showering, I wear some slightly baggy jeans with a button-up and my converse, while Jenna wears something similar too.

We both nod at each other with an approving smile, as we run towards the door with us already being 15 minutes late.

We enter their house with Nat standing and pointing at her watch at the entrance. We both sheepishly smile as I give her a quick hug and Jenna gives her a kiss on the cheek as we both move on to greet the rest of the family.

"So, how's everything going back home? Settling well?" Jenna's dad, Ed asked us after we all finally settled on the table for dinner.

"I'm sure they are, was probably too busy 'unpacking' to get here on time." Aliyah said while quoting 'unpacking' with her fingers.

I coughed as I picked up my glass to drink my water so I didn't have to reply, while Jenna subtly kicked her under the table. I saw Aliyah wince as I struggled to hold my chuckle in.

"Everything's going great Dad." Jenna clarified.

"Except." I said as Jenna's head snapped towards me as she threatened me with her eyes.

"Don't you dare."

"Her attempt at spaghetti ended up failing so bad, it was hard to distinguish the edible part."

Aliyah and her parents burst out laughing, Jenna glared at me and smacked my shoulder with her hand as I stuck my tongue out at her.

"You could have asked for my help mija.”

I saw Jenna’s shoulder slump and she pouted at the table.

“I know but I wanted to prove a point.” She grumbled as she shoved bread in her mouth.

“Yea you proved it very well.��� Aliyah said sarcastically.

“I’m still proud of you for trying at least, God help me I don’t wanna step foot in a kitchen anytime soon.” I said exasperatedly.

“You ever plan on cooking?” Asked Aliyah.

“Of course but only when I have the assurance I can cook something decent and won’t burn the house down.”

“Take all the time you need, Y/N. At least in this way I get to see my daughter more often.” Said Ed taunting Jenna.

“Daaaaaad.” Whined Jenna

“What?” Said Ed laughing at his daughter as she sat pouting again.

“Okay that’s enough, let the poor girl eat.” Said Natalie as she shook her head smiling.

**********

I unlocked the door as Jenna stomped in and went straight to our room as I sighed at her child-like antics. How can a person be so poise and yet childish? Fuck if I know. I locked the door behind me as I approached our bedroom slowly dreading what I’d have to face. I get in the room to see her getting ready to wipe her makeup already in her sleeping clothes. I stood there staring at her through the reflection of the mirror. Her eyes caught mine as she raised her eyebrows at me as I squinted my eyes at her.

“Do you have something to say?” She asked.

“Uh no…do you?” I replied as I stared at her confused.

“No…?”

“Oh okay great!” I brightened up significantly as I thought she had forgiven me.

I happily walked to the bathroom. Did all the necessary things, emptied my stomach, changed clothes, brushed. I happily trudged back into my room to see Jenna taking up the whole bed and my pillow nowhere to be seen.

Uh oh.

“So uh dumb question but where’s my pillow?”

“Oh they’re on the couch.”

Well, shit.

“My I ask why…?”

She just stared at me blankly as she faced away from me. I sighed and groaned as I flopped on the bed, half on her and half on the bed.

“I’m sorryyyy, we just always joke about your culinary skills and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I told you I was trying to prove my independency to them, but you saying that proved the opposite.”

“Jen I’m pretty sure they know you’re independent, you literally travel country from country shooting films, most of the time alone.” I said as I looked at her quizzically.

“Well…yea but they were still reluctant with me moving in with you.” She countered back.

I laughed as I pull my head up to look at her and say “That’s because you’re their little girl and of course they’re gonna be sad and kinda worried about you moving out of their home for the first time.”

Jenna groaned as she put a pillow on top of her face and said “I knowww it’s just them being so, I don’t know, over-protective this way makes me feel like they don’t trust me with taking care of myself.”

“At the end of the day, they still let you right? focus on that. I think they let you ‘cause they know I’ll be here.” I said with a smug smile as Jenna rolled her eyes at the bullshit I just spewed.

“Also I think you’re parents think we’re like, some sort of, sex crazed people...oh my god is this why they were reluctant?” I said as I made a ‘mind blown’ face.

“No, of course not why would they think that?” Jenna said as she looked at me confused.

“Well with the way your mom makes sure we have weekly check-ups and your dad’s The, by the way very terrifying, ‘Talk’ he gave me I’m pretty sure they do.”

“Oh my god, shut up you’re being ridiculous.” Jenna said laughing as I smiled finally hearing it.

We laid there for a while, me half on her and half on the bed as she stroked my hair. After a while, she stops and says.

“I’m still mad at you though.”

“Oh please, woman you’re not fooling anyone.” I say as I get up to get my pillow back.

“Ugh you’re lucky you’re cute." She said and I responded with a 'duh' face.

"The lower half of my body is numb because of you asshole.” Jenna said as she wiggles her toes in my face as I stand in the doorway of our bedroom and smack her feet away.

“This is what it feels like being the bigger spoon most of the time, except it's the upper half, so now YOU deal with it.” I say as I quickly stick my tongue out and move out of the way as a pillow comes straight to the door. I stuck my head in again as I look at the pillow and her on the bed with deadpan eyes and say.

“Hahaha you miss-“ a pillow smacks against my face.

“Now go get your pillow and hurry up I’m tired.” Jenna said as she situated herself on the bed again.

“Yes ma’am.”

**********

“Does it actually feel bad to be the bigger spoon?”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“But you just said.”

“I like it as long as you’re my little spoon.”

[justanotherflemethstan]

I have been very positive and hopeful for DAtV ever since it was announced, but the latest IGN article has massively tanked my excitement, to a degree where I'm wondering if I even want to purchase DAtV on release or wait for it to be discounted at a later date.

Here is the core if the problem:

Continuity has always been such a massive part of what makes the DA/ME Bioware titles special. Playing an RPG where I can romance some of the characters is no longer enough of a unique formula, and others have likely done it better than what DAtV can ever offer (I don't expect nowhere near the level of complexity of BG3). The fact that we as players could inhabit a world that responded to our choices throught time and reflected our decisions in big and small ways was a core part of what made Dragon Age different. Reducing it to 1 romance and 2 DLC decisions completely destroys any visible continuity, where even a character like Morrigan who according to the devs has always been present for "world shaping events" will have to dance around not actually mentioning any consequences of said events.

Basically, avoiding any mention or any consequences of those "world-shaping events" (Epler's own words) makes them kind of not world shaping at all. It competely removes both the stakes from past games and any player agency since no matter what you did or chose in the past the world of Thedas in Dragon Age the Veilguard remains exactly the same. You didn't at all shape it as a player.

Finally, I just want to add as someone working in design myself that respecting user/player contribution and preserving their input are just basic principles of good design. Many, many players across many years have dedicated their most precious resources - time, effort, even money - into crafting their own unique Dragon Age characters, worldstates, and storylines. First offering the tools for players to make all those choices and then completely ignoring them is the studio/EA essentially saying that what we did doesn't matter. Our time doesn't matter. Our effort doesn't matter. Our stories don't matter. All that matters is that we open our wallets and pay for another game because it has the branding of a franchise that we used to love.

[readychilledwine]

A Dance With Danger

Rhysand Week Day 6 - Worlds Axis

Summary - Dance with Danger - Learning the High Lord's secret has you on the run. Too bad he found you in the place you least expected

Warnings - setting up predator/prey play without touching the smut point, evil Rhysand theory *like way evil*, Liz used her favorite line from the bad Rings of power series, cliffs (in a couple of senses), threats, implied mention of the Winter Court incident

A/N - Happy Day Six of @officialrhysandweek ! I'm kind of excited about this little guy and what I could do with him. That hasn't happened in a while 👉👈 lemme know whacha think?

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

You were caught, and you knew it, but that didn't stop you from running, from using every tree as cover.

In reality, it was his own fault you had discovered this long hidden family secret. This constant ink smear on his father's family tree. Azriel had trained you far too well as a spy, Rhysand had trained you in too much detail as a researcher. You were too smart, and he had welcomed you in far too easily.

You had been running from him for over a week and a half now. Staying in animal forms until today when you somehow ended up in a different place while attempting to shift onto a new creature. You had a feeling where you were, but you continued to force him to chase just praying you were wrong.

He would blame that on your beautiful smile, on those innocent wide eyes, and the soft naivety in your voice. It didn't change his anger as he tracked you through the forest in Illyria. You had tried winnowing, but it was as if he'd already done something to you. Something that was keeping you trapped within the Night Court.

Nowhere was safe.

And it was almost your own fault for making it that way.

That smear in the family tree, that blurred name you had been stupid enough to unveil, was just the beginning. From that discovery, you'd learned through your shifting powers far more than Rhysand wanted you to. You should have left it alone, ignored that first eavesdropped conversation, but you know what they say"

Curiosity killed the cat.

You have learned his marriage to Feyre was fake. The bond was manipulated through magic. Magic he had planted to ensure she came to be by his side, and there would be no one powerful enough to stop him.

His death at the Cauldron had been planned. A way for him to gather pieces of life force from the other High Lords while also stealing some from a hysterical Feyre.

Nyx had been planned. A way to get Nesta to give her powers back to the Cauldron.

And Elain, poor Elain. The female had no clue what Rhysand and the Inner Circle had in mind for her. At least, if they could get her to reject the bond.

Rhysand had the very world itself playing in his hand, exactly how he wanted it. Thousands to bow to his feet, to worship him, and you now had the potential to jeopardize everything.

You continued running, lungs burning from the icy mountain air. He knew if he didn't catch you, you would die out here. You were so deep into the mountains that only he and his brothers could get you back at this point. Yet you still pushed on. Unknowingly irritating him further as a loud snarl tore through the woods near you.

It amazed you the level he had gone to in order to accomplish his plans. Collecting the most powerful beings in the land, placing them in his back pockets, and never looking back as he slowly began dismantling the other courts of Prythian one by one.

Spring had been a test. A successful one to prove to him that all High Lords had a price. A breaking point. He'd all but destroyed Tamlin with, as you had overheard him telling his brothers, “an only half decent cunt.” He knew the rest were weak as well.

Tarquin was naive. A spy already planned in his home.

Beron was prideful. His executor sleeping soundly in the bedroom near his.

Kallias was a new Father. Vulnerable. Emotional. Rhysand wasn't above killing children. He had already shown that.

Thesan was too smart to see anything coming. He believed the world was figured out. He believed he had the other courts figured out.

And Helion, loving, kind hilarious Helion? He'd follow Lady Autumn in her death is something…. Mistakenly happened to her.

Rhysand was cruel. He was the monster of legend he was made out to be.

And he was growing closer to you with each breath, each step, each beat of your heart.

A wrong turn ended the chase as you stared face to face with a cliff. The fall would be brutal, and you felt hope leaving you as you tried to think of any other way to escape.

“Well, little mouse, looks like you are out of options,” that feline line voice was enough to make to turn, facing your former friend and boss with neutral features.

“Rhysand.”

“At least you know your place. Only my-”

“Enemies and prisoners call you Rhysand. Yes, I've heard you use the same old line many times.”

One step back, one forward.

“What all do you know, Mouse?”

You didn't bother staying silent, watching as he began one step forward, and you one step back. “I know your plan to have all of Prythian under your thumb within the next year. To collapse the courts so quickly that no one can stop you.”

He began circling you like prey, gaze almost sad as he appreciated you one last time. You continued with a deep breath, “I know you planted the mating bond on Feyre through magic. That you are using her and her sisters. Who, you, actually sold out and paid Hybern to say was Ianthe's doing.”

He chuckled but didn't deny it. “And I know you are a quarter daglan.”

That made him stop, nodding slowly as he processed what you had said, “So, in summary, you figured out everything.” He circled you again, a look of disappointment beginning to show. “I had hoped to make something of you. To slowly bring you to my side and my web. Do you know how rare you are? How rare those precious powers of yours are given? Tamlin can't even take different forms as seamlessly as you can.”

One step forward.

One step back.

“I don't want to have to kill you, little mouse. Let's make an agreement?”

You shot him a look instantly, “What kind?”

“You join my Inner Circle, sworn to silence on all of this information, and I will still give you what I planned to. So long as you keep quiet and continue doing as you are told.”

One step forward.

One back that led to him grabbing you by your elbow, balance slipping as you began to hang over the edge.

“I can see your greatness, y/n. The power inside of you aching to be set free. I can give that to you. I can give you the true place by my side once this is all said and done.”

Had your eyes not already been wide, they would have been now, “You would make me a tyrant.”

Rhysand only smirked, flawless face no longer hiding the evil that lurked beneath his skin like a disease, “No. I would make you a queen. One worshiped from land to sea. One thought to be as powerful as the Mother herself. You just have to say yes before my grip slips.”

He let his grip go a second, catching you at your mid-forearm. A perfect brow arched as you looked down, panicking as you realized how high you truly were about to fall from.

“Not high enough to die,” he confirmed casually. “High enough to maim and leave you here bleeding out.” His grip loosened again, catching your lower forearm, “Either way, I get rid of a problem. Your choice.”

Your heart was threatening to pound out of your chest as your eyes met his calm ones. “I planned all of this as well, by the way. I really thought you would have fallen for Azriel's charm, but alas, you didn't.” He seemed almost bored as he held your life within one of his hands. “Azriel warned me he wasn't your type and that I could only fake what you and I both know if actually between us for so long.”

His grip slipped, laughing as you screamed and he caught your wrist, “I had hoped you would be a smart little mouse and come to me instead of running when I made sure you learned everything, but those damn morals of yours. How pathetic for the Cauldron to have given me of all males such a righteous mate.”

That smirk turned feral as he realized you didn't know. His eyes began to almost glow with excitement. “Oh little mouse, you really are just a stupid thing, aren't you?”

His grip slipped once again, catching you by lacing your fingers in his, admiring how snug and perfect they felt together.

“Last chance, y/n. Agree to my terms or die.”

He was so cold to you. So uncaring. He hadn't expected your last move, you unlacing your own fingers from his. You making the choice without his input. You falling.

And the last thing you remembered was the cold air ripping your breath from your lungs before impact ever came.

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