#but the whole story was so good and emotional

[dmitriene]

it's takes time with simon, patience, to wait for him until he warms up enough to crawl out from beneath his shell towards you, a shelter he built around, a place he let you approach, but never really left it, even when you started a relationship, a thing much closer than just a greetings and small hugs, ravenous kisses, long embraces, whispered, searing pet names, he still hesitated.

to let you see how his life looks, the military part of him, aside from a dirty gear he comes back home in, his friends, stories, his apartment, spacious, but too empty to be related as a home, his soul, the triggers and traumas that forever here to haunt him, simon never really leaves behind the ghost of himself, something he embraced instead.

so when he takes you with him to the town pub, not to spend time together, but to let you meet face forward with the curious, bewildered gazes of his military comrades, even his captain startled to see simon bring up anyone alongside himself, the realization makes something in you squeeze, throbbing right against your thumping, racing heart, overcoming with the sting that makes your eyes blink rapid, until a heavy arm tugs you almost forcefully close.

simon cradles you close to the curve of his side, fitting right against the slope of his waist, encircled fully with his draping hand, a protective gesture, a sharp, intent undertone to his smoldering eyes, catching the dim light of the room, he tongues at his cheek, gives a little bite to the tender flesh on the inside, calloused fingers spanning across the curvature of your hip, when his chest rumbles, reverberates through you whole, how he introduces you, his girl.

it's settles deep, the acknowledge, or a confession, hooking and tearing in your skin, sparkling like something long awaited, forgotten as a thing that would likely never happen, but it's there, voiced out to the stilling air between you all, the open mouths of his friends, simon's nose nudging in the crown of your head, leaving there a tender, flaming kiss that travels to your cheeks with heat, as you stutter, squeak a weak greeting, and their eyes soften, sweet and hopeful.

you hear a lot about simon this evening, how cool he is, hard as a rock, a good man, settled shy and pliable on his one thigh, muscular and solid beneath the suppleness of your body he holds tight, barking a laugh, crooked grin here and there while they talk, telling you things that seem like a secrets, but they're told in his presence, so you soak everything in, every little detail you're now have a permission to hold, close to your heart, nodding, giggling tender and raw, thanking every minute of what's happening.

his team is good, you scroll in your head when you both leave the pub, biding farewells out in the nighty, cold street, simon's jacket heavy and smelling with something heady over your shoulders, they loved you, made some affectionate nicknames that you're would definitely called again if you'll meet in the future, and it's stacks in behind your ribcage, heavy and bubbling, you suppress it all the way back to home, leaning on the sturdy warmth of the body you're cradled close to.

it's spills out unexpected, like a cork popping out from the wine bottle, pouring seemingly unstoppable, when simon lays you down on the cottony, cold sheets of your shared bed, tingling shivers trailing up from your curling toes at the contact, at the contrast of his chapped, scorching lips over your body and face, peppering sugary, gentle kisses, you sense the hunger in there, see through blearing haze at your eyes how his jawline tightens, teeth's grinding together, as he undresses you down.

you cry when he sheathes himself deep in, soppy, spasming cunt squeezed tight and wet around his bothered, engorged cock, walls seizing at the slip of your emotions, at the sob you let out, scaring something from simon that makes him pull you close instantly, bending awkwardly, tugging you against his sweating, firm chest, heart hammering beneath your ear and wet, tear streaked face as he rasps worried, short questions, listening at the way you choke small whimpers.

simon holds you still until you calm down enough to tell him, share all the worries you had, how patiently you waited for all of this, to hear how he proudly calls you his, introduces to his another slice of life, takes you forward with him hand in hand, as you weep, giggle during your speech, and he chuckles, not rude, brushing off way, it's as raw as your tears, hoarse, joyful in another kind, and he whispers then, voice mirroring yours in it's wetness, thanking you for being there all this time.

now his, for forever, and only, with nothing to wait for no more.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[ask-akira-natsumi]

These are some good points. I also believe that he fell in love with Feyre, and that he was just really bad at communicating/ bad at romantic relationships in general. (I'd felt like Lucien, throughout the whole first book, had been coaching Tamlin step by step on how to woo/seduce Feyre. ie. Lucien tagging along to the lake of starlight date as an emotional-support best friend)

Though some of my thoughts still differ in a few places, I do also agree with a lot of your points against Rhys.

I remember ready the story for the first time and telling my friend, who'd already read the full series, about what a terrible person Rhys was in the first book. I think Rhys was living way too deep in his Hewn/UTM persona because he did unnecessary and terrible things to Feyre in order to 'piss Tamlin off' under the guise that it was so Tamlin would turn feral on Amarantha once the spell was broken.

Considering the first book ends with Rhys fulling realizing that Feyre is his mate (though its later explained that he knew before that), I think most of his behavior towards her UTM was him trying to interact with his mate as much as possible because he wanted her attention and she was in love with someone else, so he was willing to have bad attention over none at all. Also as a way to distract him from the all the things Amarantha made him do, taking comfort in his mate without her knowledge or consent.

I digress, your points have convinced me that I would now like to see a Tamlin 'redemption arch' in the series where he gets happy ending too.

The way people switched on Tamlin the moment Rhys was introduced is diabolical.

“Tamlin never really loved Feyre, it was all a trick from the start”: It is stated that Tamlin was disgusted by the idea of forcing someone to fall in love with him and considered it slavery, but ended up being so in love with her that he ultimately lets her go and choses her freedom and safety over that of his own people. Rhys confirms that Tamlin loved Feyre too much. And he loved her truly. Not because he had to. Tamlin treated Feyre with dignity when she was engaged to him. He introduced her as his lady, to be respected and cherished by all. And she really was loved by his people, too. Rhysand uses her as his lap dog to scare Hewn City and parades her as his whore.

“Tamlin never did anything for Feyre, he just used her”: He improved her and her family’s life in every aspect and offered her everything he had.

“Tamlin had sex with someone else in Calanmai”: Out of duty and responsibility because he didn’t want to force Feyre, who still wasn’t sure about her feelings, into it. All of the High Lords perform the Calanmai. Lucien says so. How convenient that this is never brought up with Rhysand. He surely does perform it as well. All the theories in here, “Lucien doesn’t know what he’s talking about/ This is a SC ritual only/ He probably just passes the duty on to someone else” are just a way for people to villainise Tam and glorify Rhys again. All of them inaccurate. The Calanmai is canonically performed by every High Lord. There’s no evidence that proves otherwise. As the son of one High Lord and the ambassador of another, Lucien would know. He is 500 years old. It’s just more convenient for SJM to never bring this up again because it raises the question of “Who was Rhysand fucking all these years?” and it makes her favourite character look bad. And once he is engaged to her, Tamlin flat out refuses to do it. Let’s be real for a second.

“Tamlin didn’t help Feyre under the mountain”: He literally could not. He was bound by a curse. He was forced to be Amarantha’s consort and a consort cannot oppose you. His powers were bound. Alis warns Feyre that Tamlin will not be able to help her. Stop acting as if he didn’t want to help her. He decapitated Amarantha the moment he got his autonomy back. Claiming that there’s no proof that Tamlin was under the influence of a spell when he literally didn’t break the curse and Amarantha’s magic didn’t allow him to use his powers is crazy. And even if he tried, he could never provide actual help. We see this when he begs Amarantha for Feyre’s life. Him showing he cares about her would only make Amarantha more jealous and vicious towards Feyre.

“Tamlin made out with Feyre instead of helping her”: He couldn’t help her run away. No one could do that. She would never make it, Amarantha would find her. In fact, Tamlin specifically could not help her in any way. He could only assure her he still wants and loves her. And she wanted that just as much. Rhys abused her physically, mentally, verbally, drugged her and much worse. And he enjoyed all of it. If he didn’t want to raise suspicions, he wouldn’t have placed a bet in her favour. Rhys is a sadist, SJM just decided to mellow him down in the next book so that we’d all like him over Tamlin.

“Tamlin ignored Feyre’s wishes and only wanted her to be his bride, he didn’t let her be High Lady”: Both Tamlin and Feyre were bad communicators going though trauma and Tam had a whole court to care for. Tamlin was unaware of how Feyre felt because she barely spoke up once. Rhys knew because he literally lived inside her head and had all the time in the world to focus his attention on her since his court suffered zero consequences during Amarantha’s reign. And Tamlin simply told her the truth: there’s no such thing as High Lady. Even her current title is given to her by Rhys, the magic of Prythian has not actually chosen her to be High Lady. The title and its power are decorative. And she said she didn’t want that anyway.

“Tamlin locks Feyre up and uses his magic to harm her”: He locks her in his humongous palace to keep her safe, after she just came back from the dead and his worst enemy is kidnapping her every month, while he runs off to protect his borders. Rhysand locks Feyre in a fucking bubble. Tamlin loses control of his magic. He doesn’t want to harm her. That’s not abuse. Abuse is intentional. Feyre and Rhysand lock Lucien and Nesta up. They lock the people of the Hewn City up in a cave. Feyre loses control of her magic and harms Lucien’s mother. Double standards I guess.

“Tamlin is a bad and conservative ruler”: Tamlin is such a beloved ruler that his sentries literally begged to die for him. Feyre had to fuck with their minds to finally turn them against him. They were his friends. He was so progressive that the lords fled his court once he became their ruler because he wouldn’t put up with their bullshit like his father did. He loved all of his people. He is against slavery. The Tithe was just tax collection. Rhysand practically rules over just one city, while ignoring Hewn City and Illyria. He treats 2/3 of his realm like shit and everyone except the residents of Velaris hates him. He collects tax, too, but we conveniently never see this. He ranks the members of his inner circle (my 1st, my 2nd etc.) and reminds them every moment that they are his slaves first and anything else second, while Tamlin treats them equally and even gives Lucien an official title by naming him Ambassador.

“Tamlin conspired with Hybern”: He was a double agent and his short lived alliance, two weeks all in all, not only didn’t harm a single soul, but ultimately saved all of Prythian as he was the only one who brought valuable information to that meeting. He dragged Beron to battle. Rhysand’s alliance with Amarantha harmed thousands and only helped save one city, Velaris.

“Tamlin is responsible for turning Nesta and Elain into Fae”: No, that was Ianthe, who got the info from Feyre. Tamlin was fooled by her, just as Feyre obviously was, or she wouldn’t have trusted her. Tamlin was disgusted by that act.

“Tamlin is less powerful than Rhysand”: Rhysand himself says that a battle between them would turn mountains to dust. Tamlin killed Rhysand’s dad, the previous High Lord of the Night Court, in one blow. He is just as powerful as Rhysand. SJM again just wants us to believe otherwise. And he is smarter, too. He was the only one not to trust Amarantha. And he was a good spy for Prythian against Hybern.

All of these takes are cold as fuck. SJM was testing the waters with ACOTAR and she made sure the main love interest, Tamlin, was insanely likeable, so that the book could be a satisfactory standalone story in case she couldn’t land a trilogy deal. She didn’t know it would be such a big hit. But once she realised she could turn this into a franchise, she had to figure out a new story to tell. She may claim otherwise, but there’s just too many plothotes to convince me. And in order to make her new main love interest seem like the best choice, she had to character assassinate the old one. There was no other way. ACOTAR Rhys was too much of an evil monster to be loved by the majority of the audience. But Tamlin was introduced to us as such a heroic and passionate man that is literally impossible to turn him into someone despised by all. Feyre’s relationship with Rhysand reads too much like cheating on Tamlin. That’s why anyone with basic analytical skills is able to realise the flaws of the narration.

[selfloverrrrrr]

Witch!Reader x Demon!Satoru. He promises to fulfill her wish in exchange for something. She wants to be seen as a human being instead of a monster, the only thing she really wants is to be loved, and unfortunately he knows that. He fulfills her wish, but in return he imprisons her in his castle and promises to give her all the love and care she deserves (but in a very dark way).

The Ritual~

Warnings : smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physical and emotional abuse, biting, size difference, Yandere Gojo, demon Gojo, witch reader, jealous, obsessive, manipulative....

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Y/n's POV

I was born in a witch family. My mother was a witch too. So were my ancestors. I'm also a witch. I didn't know what was it when I was a kid. Is being a witch a good thing or a bad thing? I always used to ask myself. But all I knew was my mom always used to hide the fact from everyone that we all are witches.

So many years passed. I grew up. I'm an adult now. And I still don't have the answer that if being a witch is good or bad. But for me it became a curse. A curse for which my whole family got killed. The king hired to kill all the witches in his kingdom. He's such a powerful king. And that's why my family isn't with me now.

We all were unaware that they were attacking us. It was the middle of the night. I saw them kill everyone in front of my eyes. I ran away from there. But they saw me. I ran all I could. And for god's blessings they couldn't find me. Now I made a small hut in the forest.

All time fear attacks me that they will find me and kill me too. I can't live like this. I need to find a way where I can live like normal people. So I started learning witches techniques. Maybe any of them will help me? I started reading the books of my ancestors.

I started learning many magics. But none of them are for what I was trying to find. I never did witch activities before. I started searching in all those books. Maybe, just maybe something that will make me like the other normal people and I can live a normal life just like them?

I searched all I could. But nothing was related this. But then I found something. A book which is sealed. I looked at it. It was the last hope. I opened the seal. It was too old. Am I even gonna find anything from here? I opened the book anyways. After some time of reading what I found can actually help me. The things written in the book are:

"He got sealed. After all those trying, we all witches are successful. We sealed him. He, the strongest demon. He got birthed and from that day it was all the witch's job to end him. Though its not possible to kill him. He's too powerful. We all were also shocked that we got him sealed. He was birthed to destroy the world. He wants to rule it. He has destroyed too many places. He has killed too many people. And after doing rituals we managed to seal him. That demon, that monster's name is:

Gojo Satoru"

I kept turning the pages and the last page got my attention.......

Process to unseal Gojo Satoru

He'll fulfill your wish

My heart started beating wildly. Should I do it? It is mentioned that he is too dangerous. But he'll fulfill my wish. I don't have anything in my life. Does it even matter if I risk it? If I don't do it people are gonna try to kill me all the time. Then I should take a risk. I have to go to the place mentioned in the book.

The place mentioned in the book is the old burnt castle at the end of the forest. I've seen that castle from the young age. Everyone told me to stay away from there. But they never told me the story behind it. Today I got to know about the real story behind it.

The ritual needs to be done at night. So I collected all the things that were needed in the ritual that day. And I went there the next night. I wore a hooded dress so that no one could recognise me. And I was lucky that there weren't any people there. I quickly made my way inside the old castle with a candle in my hand.

I entered the castle. It was huge. There's dust everywhere. And the castle is burnt also. It made me curious about what happened here? I kept walking. The huge stairs from the middle. I have to go to the top room of this castle. As in the book there's a throne room which is the ritual room. I went up there.

I pushed the door open and my mouth was wide open by the beauty of the throne room. I wondered what it looked like when it wasn't burnt. I went towards the throne. I don't have enough time to do the ritual. I quickly set up what was written in the book. Then lit up all the candles. Then started doing the ritual. My heart was thumping against my chest.

As I completed the spell. The wind started flowing heavily. Suddenly all the candles were extinguished together. Then the wind stopped flowing. And all of a sudden all the candles lit up together again. Then I saw a tall human figure sitting on the throne.

He has a huge masculine body. He's tall, has handsome sharp features, white hair, white eyelashes and those gorgeous blue eyes. He looks exactly the same said in the book. He's wearing all black royal clothes. He turned his head on both sides and the cracking sound echoed through the room. Then he looked at me.

Can that beautiful person be that dangerous? I asked myself. "So you're the one who unsealed me?" He spoke. I have to respect him. "Yes, my lord" I replied looking at the ground. "Hmmmmm.....well, this place is still burnt and dusty everywhere.... and I don't like my castle to lose its beauty" he said and threw a hand beside him.

A blue ray came out of his hand. And all of a sudden the castle turned all new. Not burnt anymore neither dust anywhere. I was already gorgeous and now it has become more gorgeous. A huge black gorgeous castle. "Hmm.....so what's the reason you unsealed me?" He asked.

"my lord, I'm a witch.... people of the king are killing all the witches. They killed my family too. I don't wanna live like this. I was to live like normal people. I want everyone to think of me like normal people. I want to be loved." I replied. And then there was silence. I could feel him staring at me.

"So you don't wanna be a witch any more and want to be loved right?"he asked. "... yes. My lord" I replied. He smirked. "Okay....done" he said swiping his finger in the air. My eyes widened in hope that now I can live like normal people. I looked at my hand and the witch sign was gone.

That means..... that means I'm not a witch anymore? I was so happy. "T-thank you... thank you, my lord" I said with a smile on my face. I stood up. I said "I should go now-" he didn't let me finish "No" he said. It almost seemed like an order. I dared to look at him. And there was a sinister smirk on his face.

"I didn't give you permission to leave" he said and went up from the throne. And within a blink I was standing in front of me. I got frightened and took a step back with a gasp. "You scared?" He asked with a smirk. I didn't reply. "Are you?" He asked again tilting his head. ".... N-No" I replied.

"okay.... then come with me... let me show you something" I said with a grin offering a hand to me. I have to accept his hand and so I did. And within a blink we both were standing in front of the window. How fast is he? "Look at the kingdom. I own this. I'm gonna burn this place" he said. Now he was definitely terrifying me.

He placed a hand on my waist and pulled me against him. Now this is getting too uncomfortable. "And you'll be watching them die with me from here. And I'll kill them first who killed your family" he said. What does that mean?! "M-my lord I should go now" I said. "And I already said no" he said looking at me.

"you want to be loved, right?..... you'll be living here in my castle with me.... and I'll give you all the love you need" he whispered in my ear. My eyes widened. Oh no no no. This is not what I want. He wants to kidnap me in his castle?! Shit I don't have my powers anymore either. What should I do now?!

"what happened?" He asked and nuzzled his face on my neck. I took a deep breath and pushed him. Then ran all I could. I was running through the corridor and bumped into someone. Of course it's none other than Gojo Satoru. I don't have any ways now. I automatically started crying.

He smirked. "Didn't thought someone has the bravery to disobey me" he said and started walking towards me and I started walking backwards. "P-Please let me go I don't want that life" I cried. "Oh darling you don't know how much I love to see people crying. And for your life I'm the one have the power to decide how you'll live" he said.

Then he clapped his hand and we both were standing in a.... BEDROOM?! He grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. "Now tell me what you were saying?" He asked. "P-Please....let go... P-Please" I said. "Let you go? But didn't you wish to be loved? I'm giving you the love you deserve" he said while grabbing my ass and squeezing it.

I yelped at that. "P-Please I don't want to stay her-" before I could even complete my sentence he threw me on the bed and claimed on me. I screamed so loudly out of fear when threw me on the bed. "Didn't you say you're not scared? That seems like a lie now" he said and took off a strand of hair out of my face.

"it's been years since I was sealed. Never thought I'll get this gorgeous gift as soon as I get unsealed " he said with a smirk and pressed his lips on mine. I tried to push his chest but he grabbed my hands and held them beside my head while kissing me aggressively. He pushed his tongue inside my mouth.

I was shaking my head in protest but he didn't stop. When he stopped he immediately grabbed the top of my dress and tore it off. How strong is he??? He tore off a dress with Corset with his hands?! I almost screamed when he did. I covered myself and tried to crawl up.

He grabbed my hair and made me look at him. "Did I say to cover yourself???" He asked. His eyes shined. Tears falling down from my eyes. He smirked and licked my neck with his long tongue. I was shaking from fear. "You know seeing you scared makes me more turned on" he whispered.

I couldn't breathe. He grabbed the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. My boobs bounced out. He looked at those with lust in his eyes. His eyes shined in the dim light. He didn't waste any time, crashed his mouth on my breast licking, sucking and teasing the nipple and squeezing the other one with his hand. I moaned in the sensation. I grabbed his hair and tried to stop him by pulling it but it didn't even affect him. "M-my lord stopppp" I screamed but he didn't stop. "It's Satoru, darling.... I won't kill you if you call me Satoru"

Then he took off my pantie. He looked at my pussy. He rubbed his finger on my clit and whispered " so wet. You naughty little slut, getting wet for me huh?". Then he licked my pussy. I couldn't help but moan loudly. He smirked at my reaction and undo his pants.

His dick sprang out. It was too big and too thick. "Look... this is what you have done to me..." he said while stroking his dick. Fear grabbed me by my neck. " S-Satoru no no no... P-please no... s-stop" I begged and called him Satoru as he said so maybe he listens to me? but didn't even listen to me and slammed his whole dick inside me in one slide. I screamed. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thrusting in and out roughly. I was through my legs with pain and begging him to stop. And he liked it so much. His thrust became harder and harder.

I clenched around him tightly and he moaned loudly " you know.... you're the first witch I love....I always hated all the witches.... never seen such a gorgeous witch like you.... f-fuck what great present I got as soon as I got unsealed" he started rubbing my clit with his thumb and I bite his shoulder scratched his back to control myself. With a few more thrusts I came. He was still thrusting roughly. I felt his cock pulsing inside me. I tried to push him away with all of my strength." Ughh...no no no no...ahhhhhh... I don't want this ..." I moaned. "Do you still think you can make me stop?" He said with a smirk. I dig my nails more deeper into his back as he Marked me. He continued thrusting. Within a minute he came inside me I could feel his seed inside me. He pulled out. He fell beside me on the bed.

"You need to be loved? I'll give you all the love you deserve..... now spread your legs again.... I'm not done yet.... I was sealed for over 500 years.... you don't expect me to stop right now, do you?" He said and chuckled demonicly.

Give me your requests guys....

I love when you give me your requests 💕

[stillness-in-green]

Some thoughts on The Discourse about the last BNHA cover

(Note: This Discourse was on Twitter. I don’t know how much of this may have been said here on Tumblr, so consider this either my contribution or just me reporting back on drama from other fronts.)

So, I saw a lot of back and forth over there between people who didn’t like the cover and people who did, and I spent a little while mulling it over. It seemed to me that the people who didn’t like it had a good point, but one they were not articulating particularly well, possibly thanks to the character limit and possibly also because the people talking about it tended to phrase their objections in sarcastic, consciously exaggerated terms because that’s the language months and months of dealing with the truly insufferable Horikoshi Defense Squad on Twitter primed them to use.

So what is the point?  Basically this: In going for the lazy/easy callback in both the cover design and Dai (plate-hair kid)'s role in the final chapter more generally, Horikoshi landed on an "everything comes full circle" ending when what the story desperately needed was an indicator of change.

We didn't need to know that a kid with low self-confidence and nothing to speak of in the quirk department can still become a Pro Hero if he[1] wants to.  We already knew that because it's what the whole story of BNHA was about!  Deku passing the torch/paying it forward is nice if all you care about is Deku's personal arc, but it's sheer reductiveness if you care about literally anything else.  If there was going to be a kid getting Deku's encouragement and help at the end, if that's the ending Hori was absolutely set on, it shouldn't have been the Deku Redux kid; it shouldn't have been the weak kid who has already been metaphorically proven capable of becoming a Hero.

1: And of course it would be a boy.

It should have been the troubled kid, the one from the bad family situation, the one who isn't sure whether he even believes in this Hero thing.  It should have been the kid who, if nothing about Hero Society had changed, would’ve been rejected by the whole corrupt system—in so many words, the Tenko Redux kid.  That's the one who we saw could not become a Hero under the previous system.  That's who we needed to demonstrate the system's improvement.

Instead, all we get is Deku helping himself.  And it fits, I guess, because “himself” is the only sort of person Deku ever wanted to save anyway—remember that in the very first chapter, Deku tells All Might that he wants to be a Hero because he was never “saved” as a kid and so he thinks saving is the coolest thing ever.  Implicitly, then, Deku wanted to be the kind of Hero who could have saved the kid he was, and that tendency to reserve his compassion for people he can recognize himself in—the crying children and the Hero wannabes—is consistent throughout the series.  Dai, then, simply becomes the very last of these examples, the chance for Deku to tell his middle school self that he, too, can be a great Hero.

And that’s quite a choice, isn’t it?  Take a second to consider the implications there. The metaphorical parallel Deku helps is his middle school self, not his childhood self—there’s no evidence that Dai was bullied on the same level young Izuku was, and we sure didn’t see anyone telling him to jump off a roof.  So, who does save those children, then, in this grand, improved version of Hero Society?  Does anyone?

Well, not really. Not that we’re shown. Indeed, the child who was the closest analogue to young Izuku—a weak and seemingly quirkless boy who stuck his neck out for other rejected children, who still stubbornly wanted to be a Hero despite a parent's disapproval—was Tenko, and Deku pointedly did not save him.

To be clear, I don’t mean that just in the sense that Deku failed to save the adult Tenko became, but even in the emotional sense that the series clearly wants me to believe Deku succeeded at, the saving of the boy's heart? I don’t think Deku even managed that.  Sure, he might have protected the echo of that child from a few memories, might have held his hands for a few exchanges of dialogue, but then the boy transformed back into the form of the Villain he'd become and was swallowed down the spiritual maw of the man from whom society failed to save Tenko to begin with! And what was Deku doing as this happened? Absolutely nothing but yelling impotently as he got blown backward and out of the mindscape.

Imagine that Deku had found some way to cheer up Izumi Kouta only for Muscular to kill the kid thirty seconds later.  No one would be saying, “I think Deku still saved him—his heart, anyway,” if Deku got Kouta to smile and admit that Heroes were actually pretty cool only to do nothing but scream helplessly as he watched Muscular pulverize Kouta’s ribcage with one gentle squeeze.[2]

2: Mind you, this comparison is flawed!  Unlike AFO’s vestige, Muscular doesn’t turn up to kill a child as a direct result of Deku’s own actions. Also unlike the events of the final battle, Deku doesn't jump up and personally administer the killing blow to the still-screaming victim, either.

It just leaves me thinking about some of the stuff @codenamesazanka has said about how the narrative treats Shigaraki and Deku helping him: not as something Deku has a duty to do, not something Hero Society on the whole owes Shigaraki (and all the other metaphorical expy/future Shigarakis), but rather a bonus, a nice extra, a demonstration to shine up Deku's Hero cred because he's making efforts no one else would bother with and that no one would reasonably expect him to make. It's not Deku’s job to save the Tenkos or the young Izukus of the world; apparently that just falls to society at large.

So then, what was the point of making Tenko/Tomura such an extreme case of someone who started in a similar place to Deku?  Why make him, also, a weak kid who was told he couldn't be a Hero, if you're not going to have Deku save him in the way no one saved Deku himself?

From where I'm sitting, the answer is, "It seemed like a good idea to Horikoshi at the time, but proved to be poorly thought out."  But if Deku failing to save his own closest childhood analogue was where the story was going the whole time, then Shigaraki should never have been used to parallel Deku to begin with.  It's just a damned waste of Shigaraki as a character, an insult to everything he represented, to use him for ~the parallels~ throughout the entirety of the story except the very beginning and the very end.

Anyway, Pro Heroes are bullshit and the ending should have been them being radically reconceived from the ground up with input from all the people they failed to save.  But again, if you have to still have Heroes-qua-Heroes at the end, and you have to have some stupid thematic echo because you as an author think callbacks are the single most compelling storytelling tool of all time, then everything we got on Dai should have been for Scissors-kun instead, and here I am very much including Dai's scene before the first war. An unsettling scene of a strange child with his mouth sewn shut, stuck in a straitjacket in a dark room should have been the last thing we saw before launching into the day of the raids, an apparent element for the future in the same way that so many future Villains were first shown in the wake of Stain's arrest.

See, Shigaraki’s own destructiveness is what ultimately frees Scissors-kun from the basement, “saving” this rejected, abused child in a way no Hero ever managed or even knew to try, just as Shigaraki brought light and a strange sort of hope to the lives of so many others whom Heroes failed.  However, Shigaraki couldn't carry his ambitions through to the end. He was never able to meet the kid he indirectly saved, never able to offer that appallingly abused victim an avenue for his signature brand of rough justice. Heroes stopped him from doing so. So then, who will help Scissors-kun?

If we’re to believe that the story's protagonist has made a real difference, that Deku and his classmates have changed the world for the better, then we don't need to see them helping a kid who we already know is going to turn out fine because “he” aleady did. We need to see them help the people that previously only Villains would have helped, picking up the torch they struck from Shigaraki’s hands.

So sure, keep the scene with Granny Evil and Scissors-kun if you must, to show that it’s not only Heroes but also the broader Hero Society that’s changed. After that, though, show Deku stepping in.  Show him taking an interest in this kid as a way to keep his promises—to Shigaraki, that the rejection and obliviousness that he sought to destroy have indeed been destroyed and will remain so, and to Spinner, that Deku will remember Shigaraki for the rest of his life. 

When Deku is older and in a position to give advice to a kid who’s floundering and uncertain of what to do with his life because of what people around him say about him, make that character echo the characters the old system failed to save, not the character who the entire story proved would do just fine.

For god's sake, ditch Deku Redux.

Now, I know the obvious rejoinder here: We can’t use Deku’s story to say that BNHA already showed us that Dai would be fine because Dai has a quirk where Deku did not, therefore Deku’s path would not be open to Dai.  To this, I would reply that neither Deku nor Dai specify that Dai wants/is able to be a top Hero, merely that he be the kind of Hero people can admire—which the story has also already proven true!

Ojiro got into UA with nothing but one (1) extra limb.

Manual has a perfectly middling quirk that turned out to be absolutely crucial in two different wars because it was the right quirk at the right time.

Wash’s quirk makes strong bubbles. 

Like, this list is not short.  Manifest Plates might or might not make Dai Hero Billboard material, but one of the major points of the endgame was the sublime and noble value of helping when you can, in the way that you can.  So to reiterate, we didn’t need that to be proven again in the epilogue.

If anything, going the route of retreading the same story makes the epilogue much worse! Not only do we not get to see how this society is helping the people the old society most profoundly failed—victims who fall through the cracks and become Villains—but in seeing yet another a weak kid being mocked for his heroic aspirations, we find that we’ve barely moved a step beyond the exact same place we started.

That’s the message Horikoshi chose to go with, for both the closing chapters of the story and the story’s final volume cover.  Truly, as art that summarizes the story goes, it’s a masterful choice!  And that's the whole problem. The cover of Volume 42 is a perfect illustration of the self-absorbed, cynical, cyclical nature of BNHA's endgame. Little wonder, then, that it's hated by the same people who hated said endgame.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

Jesus fucking christ a fic hasn't made me sob like this in a while.(CRYING WHILE TYPING)

Idk why I thought it was a good idea to read this before going to bed😭💔 Idk if I'll be able to sleep tonight

Damn it I had a whole bunch of saved texts from the story so I could tell you how each of them made me cry or laugh 🥺 but I guess it was too much and they got erased.

I just want to say... Wow, THIS IS WHY I LOVE TUMBLR, I LOVE the fact that I found this today and I didn't know how much I was going to love it, I love how you write, I love the way these two characters found each other, I love feeling incredibly sad right now, bc wow this is art, art is raw emotions and I'm incredibly grateful I get to read this, I can't wait to read the rest of the chapters.

I think you captured Logan's essence perfectly and more than that, you made him your own, those last few scenes with Y/N and Logan fucking shattered me

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

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

word count: 22.2k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

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

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

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

series masterlist → chapter 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. They’ll survive a beating."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Put it back," the man ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

It wasn’t long before the answer came.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Smart kid,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sounds lonely.”

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

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

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

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

“Appreciate it,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

Edwin squirmed. “Not that hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Logan said. “A bit.”

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

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

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

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

Logan huffed softly. “Kids are alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” he said simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan gave a small nod. “Next Sunday.”

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “You think I’m ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime,” he said, his voice low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“About?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan,” you said softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, this was enough.

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same ones?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?” he asked, voice low.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

Tonight was no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And for a moment, they did.

---

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

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

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

But even she seemed to sense something was off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Logan, don’t—”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tuberculosis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow. “Until me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Nothing had worked, and nothing was working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

There was no answer.

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

It was quiet. Too quiet.

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

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

But nothing came.

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

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

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

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

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

But he couldn’t.

And the weight of that realization shattered him.

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

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

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

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

[bicth-and-in-that-order]

So lets take a look at CaitVi’s romantic arc this season, or lack thereof:

Act 1:

Vi consoles a grieving Cait -> Cait wants Vi by her side as an enforcer , Vi says “fawk no” -> Vi gets drunk with discount Vander then Maddie comes and tells her Cait has fought for her (offscreen) which she appreciates -> Vi asks Cait to “never change” , Cait says “sure Jan😉” -> Vi and Cait kiss -> Jinx teases Vi abt her relationship with Cait -> Cait goes blind with rage, assaults Vi, then leaves her crying and broken

Act 2:

Cait sleeps with Maddie, looks sad -> Vi spirals into an alcoholic rage in the span of a montage while constantly thinking of Cait -> when Cait and Vi meet again, Cait attacks her and they insult each other-> Vi playfully calls her “cupcake” -> Cait, seemingly moved by this one word, betrays Ambessa and hatches up a plan with Vi -> Vi spits on Cait and she wipes her saliva on her mouth-> Ambessa mentions that Vi’s absence created a hole in Cait’s heart -> Cait checks on Vi during Vander’s attack on the commune

Act 3:

Cait and Vi have a talk abt Jinx, there are a handful of lines with Vi being upset about Cait feeding into Ambessa bullshit, none about what she did to Vi -> Vi confronts Jinx, Jinx seemingly gives Vi her blessing with Cait -> Cait finds Vi trapped in Jinx’s cell where she contemplated suicide -> Vi is upset about Jinx for two lines then Cait flirts with her -> they make out then Cait brings up her fling with Maddie -> Vi dgaf and they briefly have sex in prison while Jinx is doing god knows what

Epilogue:

Cait and Vi are now living together -> Vi claims she is the “dirt” under Cait’s nails and that’s that

In other words:

They kiss -> they fight -> ??? -> they fuck -> they back

If you thought the romance of Caitvi this season felt janky and undercooked, that’s because it was. No time was given to meaningfully explore the emotions between Cait and Vi, how they felt about each other, how their actions affected each other (except in brief montages and brief lines), their love for one another. All of the meat of the relationship was either done off screen, mentioned by other characters, or blink and you miss it microfacial expressions that the fandom seems to think is a replacement for actual character writing. All of this leaves Caitvi with hollow story beats that lack any real buildup thus no satisfying payoff.

I have to wonder, to the people who offer such high praises for Caitvi this season, have they never read/watched a good wlw story? Not even a decent one? Cause this was lackluster at best, a slap in the face at worst. Don’t tell me there wasn’t enough time either because Arcane had the time to devote a whole episode to a het AU ship, Arcane had the time to animate long, heavily romantic coded sequences between Jayce and Viktor, but couldn’t spare a dime for their flagship relationship in the show? What a mess

[just-thoughts-no-vibes]

I knew we would eventually reach a point where masses of people would misinterpret Arcane, but I never imagined it would be this bad.

Yes, I absolutely agree that season 2 was rushed, especially Act 3, and it is undeniable that the series would have benefited from at least one more episode if not an entire act. However, the current discourse about the show is so superficial that it's impossible to have a conversation about anything deeper but a mere synopsis of the characters and story.

So many of you expected this series to hold your hand and dumb everything down so you can understand it. But when it wasn't the case, you all started rioting and calling the characters vague, the plot bad, and the ships underdeveloped.

The amount of people who value spoken text more than the actions of the characters is worrying. And more worrying than that is the amount of those who interpret the said actions so superficially. I can't believe it needs to be explained that it wasn't Vi's death that led to the "good" timeline, but the lack of hextech. The result would have been the same if either of them had died. It wasn't about Vi, but about the child that died because of dangerous technology and that therefore that technology must not be used. The mischaracterization of Vi in general is insane. Call me biased and unfair, but the moment I hear you don't like her I will assume you didn't understand the show.

Also, the whole discourse around Caitvi scene in episode 8 is giving brainsmooth. No, Vi didn't choose Cait over Jinx, quite the opposite. No, Cait didn't plan all of it to fuck Vi. No, Vi didn't do it because she felt forced or because she is a horny animal who doesn't care about her sister. No, them fucking in a cell is not about the class difference, but about the fact that Vi felt an insane rush of emotions after realizing that Cait would let go of her revenge and help Jinx escape, all for her. Yes, I do agree that it would be nice if we got a longer conversation between Vi and Caitlyn and it would feel great to hear Cait apologize, but I'll always value actions over words. Her talking to Jinx, recognizing that she is just as bad as her, and choosing to trust Vi that her sister can change, thus letting Jinx escape will always mean more than any verbal apology and I'll die on that hill.

Also, it was Jinx's decision to let go and walk away. It was not about Vi trying to get to Vander, but about Jinx being tired of everything. Even if that fight didn't happen, the result would be the same: Jinx would leave because she knows that Vi couldn't do that. She knew that the two of them couldn't have a normal life together and that Vi would never give up on her. Jinx didn't "die" because Vi pushed her or failed her, but because she loved her too much. Whether you believe that she is dead or that she escaped, it's her decision either way.

Again, I agree that too much happened too quickly, but stop confusing your stupidity and inability to read between the lines with the quality of the series.

Arcane is flawed but still brilliant.

[sonknuxadow]

my honest reaction

[queen-of-wisdom]

Laurie opened her mouth, a strange sequences of fast breathing left her mouth. She told ST427730RN once that it was a traditional human expression of happiness.

"I once told you that we humans are from Earth, right?"

"Yes, you did. It was also part of our management course."

"That's the answer", said Laurie, her eyes were fixated on a point outsidd the window. ST427730RN follwed her eyes but couldn't see what Laurie was so occupied with.

"That is not a answer", ST427730RN insisted.

"Yes it is; it's not my fault you can't understand it."

Laurie showed her teeth. ST527730RN has to remind itself that it wasn't a sign of hostility but a sign of joy, even if it didn't really understand why Laurie was so happy talking about her destroyed planet of origin.

"No, sorry, that wasn't fair of me", she said. "It's just...hard to explain."

"Try", it said. "For me."

Laurie looked at the blanket. ST527730RN followed her look again. Maybe it has to also ask her what she was always looking at.

"Earth isn't just our planet of origin, for us humans, I mean", Laurie started. "Everything in our cultures is based of the ancestral land on Earth. The food, the stories, the traditions. In some cultures, there's a big emphasis on being buried at the same place as your ancestors, others believe that special spirits live inside the Earth . It's really different. "

"But, Laurie, I do not understand. Did not your planet became unhabitable around a thousand years ago?"

"Yes, that's true but...you know we humans love documentating things, right?"

"You always write your past experiences down right before sleepingh, how could I not know?"

Laurie did her traditional human expression of happiness again.

"Right, right sorry...anyway, the humans of the past did the same. They photographed and described the whole planet. It was beautiful, you know? Really, really beautiful. I grew up watching documentaries of the fish that once lived in the cool oceans and about gigantic forrests with leaves as green as on Orne-te'go, we should watch it together, I'll show you. Then you'll understand too."

Laurie looked it directly into its eyes.

"I do not want to discourage you from your culture", ST527730RN said. "But I really like you, Laurie and the thought of your sadness would transfer to me feeling the same, so I want to remind you that so far, no species ever has reformed a once made inhabitable planet into a habitable one again. It is not possible."

"I'm flattered by your care, '52, I really am, but it's fine, really. I don't expect Earth to become liveable again soon, I just hope that it's soon enough that I don't have to continue the tradition with our grandkids. That I can show them Earth, instead of only watching films about it. I have to hope that. "

"What is this 'hope'? It is a word from your language, correct?"

She showed her teeth. "Yeah, it's a emotion but it's kinda hard to explain."

"Try", ST527730RN said. "For me."

Laurie closed her eyes. Probably to stop distract her from these things she keeps seeing at the blanket or outside in space.

"Hope is...when you wish for your descendants to grow up on Earth, even if it's completely unrealistic by today's standards. It's when you know that something is unlikely to happen but you still believe. Because you have to."

"Why do you have to hope?"

"Because that's how the good future happens."

"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: Dreamtale story and endings spoilers. I'm 99.99999% sure none of the endings have been published yet but the creator talked about them.

I am in shock. I'm just. Floored. I haven't kept up with apple brothers Dreamtale in forever but yesterday I found out that 1) passive Nightmare is dead for good and Dream can't save him in ANY of Dreamtale's future endings 2) Nim, the twins' own mother, might be or is part of Corrupted Nightmare together with the evil spirit entity that is hunting Dream and the golden apple down (but dream's bro is still dead forever, from what I've seen) and 3) Nim is horrible and petty to the max and not in an entertaining way. She deliberately forced an emotion balance on the Multiverse because she hated mortals. She did not have to do it but she did. So many stories act like the emotion balance is a natural part of the Multiverse and is good for the Multiverse but it's NOT. It's only there because Nim hates everyone. I never liked the emotion balance idea but now I found out the entire Multiverse has to suffer and will die if Dream does because of Nim's pettiness???? Why does no one talk about this? How did I miss this? I. I'm questioning everything I thought I knew about Dreamtale canon. Were these things revealed not long ago? Was Nim not so bad in the preboot?? Did fanon change her character and downplay what she did and it made me forget how horrible she is??? I wouldn't mind if she was treated as morally gray but NO. Where the hockey stick did the "good Guardian and mother Nim" idea come from???? She's up there with XGaster and Handplates Gaster in the AWFUL parent awards.

I'm sorry about the questions but please, if any of this is fanon and not canon or I'm missing important context PLEASE tell me where I'm wrong because I am questioning so much of what I thought I knew about canon Dreamtale as a whole and I''m not going to spend my time looking at an canon I don't like anymore. I can't lie, this makes me hate the balance idea SO MUCH MORE. If it was just Dreamtale, it'd be fine but no, the emotion balance was forced into the Multiverse and changed how it worked to make Dream more special. UGH WHY.

[eerna]

I love vi so much that I’m so sad this happened to her. Like they “probably” wanted to convey that she’s gonna stick with Cait for a while by calling her a dirt under her nails but even writing that line rn is breaking my heart idk how everyone behnd that was just “yep that’s cool and so in character” this was the girl who said this city’s gonna respect to us someday and having a whole mental breakdown in front of Cait for how desperate her hometown place is in the “oil and water” scene. Im all here for caitvi but she loved jinx MORE THAN ANYTHING she’d die and kill for this girl why did the vice versa happen suddenly? Why did the writers discarded the legit CORE of her character, the one that was making her our vi, just to make her an extension of caitlyn. Not to say she’s probably still drinking as we see in the last scene why do they forced us to believe she’s gonna be ok cause she’s got Cait? Didn’t arcane prove us the whole time that love alone isn’t enough to make one healthy?

THANK YOU FOR MENTIONING THE GLASS IN THE FINAL SCENE BECAUSE I TOO WAS LIKE "WAIT IS SHE DRINKING AGAIN, CAN WE ELABORATE ON THAT" DBSBAJKBASKJ... I don't really have anything against her arc being that she needs to learn how to let people who don't want her to hold onto them go. Really, it's super unhealthy to keep obsessing over those who have left you behind, and I do think that the only way Vi could be happy is if she learned that lesson. Then, Jinx choosing to return to her would be all the more powerful. But the way we got to that point is just. Just really sad and not very good.

I saw the shippers complaining about the criticism of the final line and the jail scene by saying the critics just don't wanna see lesbians happy, but to me it's the opposite. I love Vi so much, she is my favorite character, and I absolutely wanted to see her happy, but I simply can't ignore what the story is telling me. Vi ISN'T happy. She is a prisoner in a system that treats her like shit, and she has made peace with it. She is humming a lullaby whose meaning is literally "Zaunites should be happy with Piltover's runoff and never ask for more", she is drinking, she is demeaning herself. The show tries to tell me she is happy, but that is not the emotion I am getting at ALL, because all the subtext points to the opposite.

[planetdream]

striped carnations.

characters. hwang hyunjin, reader, lee minho + special guests

genre. angst, flower shop!au. words. 5.6k

synopsis. upon hearing the news that your boyfriend is going to propose to you, hyunjin realizes that he's had feelings for you all along

fic contents: hyunjin is both a chronic overthinker and a hopeless romantic. needless pining. angst. heartbreak. talks of marriage and relationships. suggestive content: hookups; heavy make out + implied drunk sex.

💌 if you think you've seen this before, it's because you have! I deleted it like a month ago lmao....but here it is again <3

Hwang Hyunjin has always been a big fan of flowers. A flower can describe the emotions behind every pivotal moment in one’s lifetime—a wedding, a funeral, graduation, or a life-changing event—though not limited to only those situations; Hyunjin's love for, and belief in flowers reaches across all occasions and sentiments. His admiration of flowers as a whole goes beyond the smell, or how visually pleasing and/or vibrant in color they look. Flowers allow him to express feelings that he feels words simply cannot—even if no one else around him understands it in the way he does. Hyunjin loves flowers because of the stories you can tell with them, and thus, he chooses to document his life with flowers. 

As a small child, Hyunjin would pick flowers at the park for his mother; or one of his various personal art projects. A bundle of flowers bunched up in his tiny little hands as he ran to his mother with the widest, dimpled grin he could make. To his mother, the flowers are a sweet sentiment of his admiration towards the woman raising him. However, to Hyunjin they meant so much more than that—a physical manifestation of a deep awareness that he couldn’t find the words to explain until he matured as a person. This habit of gifting flowers out of pure emotion was probably the one constant in his life other than the crushing weight of heartbreak. 

Heartbreak is much like flowers. It has so many different colors and feels, it takes on a multitude of shapes and smells—and it is pretty easy to romanticize. 

When Hyunjin was in kindergarten, he gifted a daisy to a girl he had a small crush on. She ended up stomping on them, but that didn’t stop little Hyunjin from pining after her. The tradition of Hyunjin picking flowers as a romantic gesture continued in a slightly different way as he got older, and the helpless pining after something unattainable never stopped. Coincidentally, a few of his exes are named after flowers—the unfortunate downside of that is that it still pains him to look at whatever flower the ex had been named after, even if they ended the relationship on good terms. 

These are some moments and beliefs that have shaped Hyunjin—and his future. 

In the second to last year of his high school career, Hyunjin began working at a flower shop close to his childhood home. Morning Glory Floral—located between a convenience store and a bookstore (both of which are frequented by Hyunjin)—is a tiny little flower shop that Hyunjin knows like the back of his hand. He’d originally started out as a cashier and order taker until he eventually worked his way up to being one of three floral designers at the shop. 

He typically runs the shop most days of the week, opening in the early morning and closing in the late afternoon unless he happens to work Thursday, Friday, or Saturday—on those days the store is open until 7PM. Hyunjin usually arrives an hour, or sometimes two, before the shop opens just to get a headstart on things. He prints out invoices, splitting the orders between their type—local, domestic/international; additionally divided between funeral, wedding, and those non-applicable—as well as making sure pre-made flower arrangements are ready for pickup. The shop is fairly busy on a normal day (although that typically comes down to season), therefore, a lot of Hyunjin’s time during the day is making sure things are running smoothly and without delay. 

Floral design is an art. One of the many forms of art and creative expression that Hyunjin excels within. In his mind, floral design can easily be compared to architecture or interior design (both Hyunjin contemplated as career options). The vase is the foundation—who or what is this flower arrangement for? What color helps express the emotions behind the arrangement? Then—what flowers should be used (if the customer doesn’t have a request)? What should be the focal flower that grabs people's attention? Do the flowers chosen represent the overall message? Which filler flowers and greenery should be used? The shape of the arrangement matters too. As do a lot of other minuscule details. 

The details are important to him. Making sure the customer is satisfied with his creation is easy, hardly anything to worry about, but making sure that he’s satisfied with the work he’s done is an entirely different thing. A simple glance at Hyunjin creating a flower arrangement and it doesn’t seem like it takes too much time or energy. He moves in fluid movements, placing one flower after the other, a blank expression on his face. In reality, it’s a time-consuming process and it takes a lot of thought and precision to create the arrangements he does. Still, his hard work pays off greatly. He didn’t know he’d be where he is today, but he’s great at what he does—which is why people always come back. 

His favorite floral arrangements to make are the ones that have to do with romantic love—a date, wedding, or anniversary—since Hyunjin feels it gives him a lot more freedom for creative expression. Like floral design, love is of significant importance to Hyunjin, especially romantic love. Seeing people express their love and admiration for each other via flowers is beautiful to him, as he is a hopeless romantic after all. 

A small order of carnations arrived at the shop one morning. Unmarked and not on any receipt nor written in any book. Carnations are typically cut flowers (as in, used for decorative purposes), so consequently, it’s not unlikely for the shop to have extra, especially since Felix, one of the other floral designers, loves to use them for arrangements. The flowers catch Hyunjin’s eye in particular, not only because they’re striped carnations, but because there are three of them, obviously not enough to do much with unless for a small arrangement. 

Felix, as full of knowledge as he is, once explained to Hyunjin that during the Victorian era, carnations were used to speak very straightforwardly. Unlike other flowers that have many different, complicated, and often overlapping meanings, carnations could be used to respond to something—like a love proposal. If one was asking another for their hand in marriage, the recipient of the proposal may respond with a yes by giving the proposer a solid color carnation, such as pink, white, or even red; however, the yellow carnations mean no. Striped carnations generally mean a refusal of love, almost regrettably so. I love you, but I cannot be with you. A message that Hyunjin is more than familiar with. 

Perhaps it’s an omen. A sign that he’s going to fall headfirst into another relationship resulting in yet another heartbreak. A sign that if he falls for someone again, he may not get back up this time. Hyunjin often wonders if fate is real—he knows it is, he can feel that it's real—but has he been fated to fall in love over and over again just to reach the same emotionally catastrophic end that he always does? Maybe he did something in a past life that would warrant this anguish.

He shakes the thought from his mind, for the time being, choosing instead to blissfully and ignorantly fall victim to his subconscious. He won’t admit it out loud, and when the thought arises, he pushes it out of his mind in embarrassment, but Hyunjin loves the feeling of heartbreak. It stings. In both the worst way and the best way. And while he genuinely does hate heartbreak, it’s almost like he’s addicted to it. 

And then the bell of the door rings, signaling to Hyunjin that there’s a new customer. He looks up from behind the counter and his eyes meet Lee Minho, your boyfriend. 

You and Hyunjin had met in the fourth grade. It can only be described now, all of these years later, as an instantaneous click. You both felt comfortable with each other and eventually opted to do everything together, very soon becoming the best of friends. From grade school to adulthood, you’ve kept a secure friendship. Confiding in each other about everything—when one of you is low, the other is sure to pick them up. 

There’s a sheepish smile on Minho’s face as he approaches the counter. The expression takes Hyunjin aback. The smile is surprising because Hyunjin swears that the older man typically has a permanent scowl on his face. Hyunjin greets him, giving a small smile and a wave. 

“Need flowers for a date?” Hyunjin asks, fixing his standing posture. 

“For something better actually,” Minho’s smile grows wider, as if he cannot contain it. Hyunjin thinks this might be the biggest smile he’s ever seen across Minho’s face. Minho places his hands onto the cold surface of the counter, lightly tapping in it. “I’m proposing this weekend.”

Hyunjin’s jaw drops in awe. Never had he thought Minho was a man interested in marriage. Not only that, this means he’d be losing his best friend to married life. Next thing he knows, you’ll start having kids! His mind begins to race around, unforgiving. 

When Hyunjin the two of you were younger, you and Hyunjin would talk about your hopes and aspirations for the future. Of course, the topic of marriage and creating a family entered the conversation. You expressed that when you truly love someone, there’s no need to get the law involved for a piece of paper. Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh, he felt that your reasoning was a bit childish, joyous of true, deep love. However, when you told him that though, it put a couple of things into perspective—most significantly, how you and Hyunjin are opposites. Hyunjin aches to get married and wants a few children too, he thinks the idea is beautiful. Still, for Hyunjin, the possibility of him actually getting married feels too far-fetched; unimaginable, and unattainable. Would anyone love him enough to want to marry him?

Minho breaks Hyunjin away from the depth of his mind. “I was thinking of a nice bouquet to give them, and you’re my guy for that.” 

Hyunjin exhales as he looks at Minho. He can’t even crack a small smile. He feels he should be happy—but something within him feels wrong. Someone dear to his heart is getting married and he can’t even pretend to be excited. He should be happy for you. He knows he should be happy for you; but he cannot find happiness within himself at all at this moment. 

Hyunjin and Minho aren’t exactly friends. Had it not been for you, they doubt they would have even crossed paths. It’s not that Hyunjin doesn’t like Minho, he’s a cool, upstanding guy; but is he worth being your boyfriend? Let alone, is he worth being your husband? In Hyunjin’s perspective, absolutely not. Sure, from the things you tell him, Minho treats you with love, care, and the utmost respect, but Hyunjin thinks there’s something…off about him, even after four years of you and Minho being together. From Minho’s perspective, it’s obvious that Hyunjin has a crush on you. He’s teased you about it multiple times, but to you it seems highly unlikely that your best friend since practically forever would be in love with you—but it happens. 

“Here, I’ll show you the ring.” Minho fishes into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a black velvet box. He opens the box, places it on the counter, and turns it to Hyunjin. 

The ring is gorgeous. Hyunjin can tell it’s been updated and has had a few repairs, probably a ring kept within the family. He knows this because after looking at so many rings, both through work and in his own free time (self-admittedly pathetic of him to just go looking for engagement rings and wedding bands while he’s desperately single), he’s starting to notice the small differences. 

“Wow.” Is the only thing that leaves Hyunjin’s mouth. 

Minho continues to talk, but it all goes in one ear and out of the other. Hyunjin is lost within his head. One thought after another, layering and locking himself within his own mind. Hyunjin remains on auto-pilot for the rest of his conversation with Minho. Towards the end of it, Hyunjin fishes out the most pathetic fake smile he possibly could. Hyunjin, per usual, promises to do his best at making the best floral arrangement he possibly can. Before he leaves, Minho says something to Hyunjin that sticks with him for the rest of his day. 

“They’ve always liked your arrangements, so just do what you do best. I trust you.”

The carnations are back. Another three. 

Coincidentally, they arrived on the same day that Hyunjin has to create the floral arrangement for Minho’s proposal. Hyunjin can’t lie, while this project was constantly on his mind; subconsciously putting all the pieces together one by one—he absolutely put the entire thing off until the last minute. Hyunjin has never once dreaded coming into work until now. Just the thought of working on the arrangement makes him sick to his stomach. But now there’s no more time left. 

Everything that Hyunjin needs for the making of the arrangement is spread out right in front of him. 

He chooses a white vase as the foundation—white, along with being a symbol of purity or innocence, is also a symbol of new beginnings and marriage, the latter representing what the arrangement means as a whole—sleek and rounded in an hourglass shape. Usually, for engagement bouquets, Hyunjin uses a clear vase to ensure that the flowers stay healthy and alive (of course while being taken care of). However, neither you nor Minho are any good when it comes to taking care of flowers, so Hyunjin figures he can do whatever he wants when it comes to his creation.

The foliage comes first—Hyunjin preps the stems, pulling off the lower leaves that might hang in the water, clipping the ends off the stems before they dive into the water. Floral arranging is not only art, it’s a science. The plants have to be inserted into the vase at an angle so that the arrangement can take shape. The arrangement needs to be balanced and colorful, preferably. Vase arrangements require layering, it’s easier to start with the heavier flowers first; two red chrysanthemums on opposing sides. He cuts the stems so that the flowers hang low in the vase, almost acting as a focal point if not for his statement flowers. 

As a standard for his arrangements and bouquets, Hyunjin chooses flowers that signify love and new beginnings. He also needs to make sure that the flowers he chose actually look nice in the bouquet, as if not, he feels the need to completely start over.

As he works on his creation, Hyunjin allows himself to get lost within his thoughts. Everytime someone comes into the shop, a smile on their face as they’re picking out flowers for their lover; Hyunjin feels something within him break, just a tiny crack at the surface of his identity. For a brief moment, with his work, he’s allowed to peak into the lives—the relationships—of others. Everything from the great moments of excitement to the bad moments that hope and pray to be forgiven. All of it sends Hyunjin spiraling into the depths of his memory. 

He remembers his high school years. Going back to classes after the summer he hit a growth spurt. His voice got a bit deeper, too. Suddenly, all eyes were on him. Hyunjin was desirable. Shy as he was, he enjoyed it. And after a few experiences, he’d seemingly gotten over his timid behavior, though still introverted. It was a strange time. He remembers falling deep into infatuation only for things to not pan out. Before the situationship begins, the sharp sting of heartbreak lingers. 

Just a few months back, Hyunjin got his heart broken yet again when his now ex-girlfriend left him to get back with her ex; some total loser named Changbin, of whom she had been originally dating sometime before Hyunjin. It’s not you, it’s me, she said. I just don’t feel the same as you, she said. Maybe we’ll meet later in life, or in the next, she said. He knew she didn’t mean it. That she was just feeding into his past-life and karmic romantic ideologies to lessen the blow. Within that same week (at minimum, three days later), he sees a mutual friend post a picture from a double date including said ex and her boyfriend. 

It stung. Badly. And he’s over it now. In fact, he’s so over it that he can hardly remember her name. Sooyun? Miyeong? See? He can’t remember it. It wasn’t the worst breakup that Hyunjin has experienced. Not by a mile. The worst actually was a couple of years ago, his longest relationship which lasted a year exactly, getting betrayed on the one-year anniversary of their one-sided love. The memory still stings, so Hyunjin prefers not to talk about it—but once it comes time for self-reflection, he thinks of the memories in awe—sickly attached to the distant memory of something that failed to work out. What if? He thinks. 

But three months (yeah, his most recent relationship was only three months; yes, he’s still a bit broken) with someone—constantly talking to them, getting acquainted with their lifestyle, seeing them often, kissing them, feeling them—changes a person; for better or for worse. So, Hyunjin is lucky he got out of it with only hurt feelings. A faint tug at his heart and, understandably, anger surrounding the situation, if anything. Nothing unmanageable that he can’t work or date away. 

Past relationships have driven him into a slump. Depressed and unable to create or live, even, until he finds himself somewhere within the next person—both metaphorically and actually—when he’s really at his worst; the ‘best’ thing to do is to relieve his stress by burying himself inside of someone in an effort to escape intense personal feelings. This occasionally backfires whenever he catches feelings for whoever he fucks and the cycle repeats itself. Over and Over. An unfortunate life lesson that Hyunjin has to continue repeating: spiritually, possibly due to the sins made in a past life; but actually, because he rarely ever learns from past mistakes, especially if it has to do with romance. 

Hyunjin, is, quite simply, a hopeless romantic in every sense of the term, but at a specific level of naivety. Aching to see the good in people or a situation even if it has near-disastrous results to his psyche. Before even speaking to someone, he’d have already envisioned their first few dates, their marriage, and growing old together. It embarrasses him badly. And no matter how many times he has to sit down with himself, reminding himself to calm down, that he should take things slowly, he’s already experiencing heartbreak. 

He’s tried the dating scene multiple times since this most recent breakup. A few dates here and there, and more than a few hook-ups as well (What can he say? He’s a single man). He was mostly encouraged by other friends, and you, to reopen his Tinder account and get back out there. And Hyunjin, easily influenced, did just that. It didn’t last long though, simply due to the fact that he found himself bored almost immediately after each date or hookup. He’s simply wandering through life, boldly yet blindly, without inspiration. 

Then he feels that spark. It’s just as he’s putting the finishing touches on his creation. 

That very familiar, almost sickening spark deep within his soul that he found himself craving after going so long without. Feelings. Of the romantic variety. For you. He can say that he initially realized them during a party hosted by a friend of a friend. You were surrounded by some of your close friends, drinking, and smiling all pretty as you do; and that’s when it started. It was like the universe expanded in a way that could be physically felt—similar to that of an out of body experience—an intensity that feels so right. He could damn near feel the temperature changing in the room due to some kind of universal shift. The vibrations of the music gets heavier, and the chatter of people blurs together—time slows down but is going all too fast. 

But perhaps he’s had these feelings for you for a while now. Maybe since you first met as children. Hiding them deep within himself. Covering up his feelings by searching for you through countless other people. Perhaps it is why many of his relationships never work out. 

It has to be fate calling out to him. Hyunjin clings to this thought and the feeling that it gives him.

Hyunjin questions himself like he does every time he realizes that he has feelings for someone. What do I like about them? He ponders it. Though it doesn’t take long for him to figure it out. Everything. He likes everything about you. From the way you type on your phone to how you order food at restaurants. He loves how concentrated you get when reading something and he likes how you walk a little weirdly. He likes your opinions and the way you see the world. Those small, specific things that make you who you are, are what Hyunjin loves. You as a person, inside and out. The good and the bad. All desirable and undesirable things. 

This is bad. Really bad. The realization feels bad. 

Hyunjin has had feelings for tons of his friends before. He never tells them, but if he does—because hey, life is short—then it never goes past a -with-benefits label. His friends mean a lot to him, and while a romance could strengthen a relationship, it could also weaken one. Some people are meant to stay friends. Perhaps that could change between you two. But it cannot. Hyunjin remembers one little fact: you are in a committed relationship. Of four years. With Lee Minho of all people. 

What does Lee Minho have that Hyunjin doesn’t? He’s just as pretty. Just as charming. And he’s a few centimeters taller. Plus, he’s known you longer than Minho has. If anything happens, you’d certainly pick Hyunjin, right? But Minho wants to marry you and Hyunjin doubts himself as being ready for that type of commitment even though he craves it desperately. 

By the time that Hyunjin has finally finished the final pieces of the floral arrangement and sneaks away from his thoughts, Minho saulters into the store. Speak of the devil. 

He’s smiling just as wide as he had days ago. Tonight is the night that he proposes, Minho informs Hyunjin. To which, Hyunjin congratulates Minho—but he hopes that you say no. He prays that you say no and, just to add insult to injury, you laugh in Minho’s face, despite how crude it’d be. In the pit of his stomach, though, he knows that you’ll say yes to Minho.

Minho leaves with the flowers after a few minutes of chatter; but not before he pays and leaves quite a hefty tip. 

The rest of Hyunjin’s day goes by dryly. A permanent pout rests on his face, as noticed by his coworkers. He’ll just shyly smile so as to not cause any worry. Hyunjin remains on autopilot. Smiling, talking to his regulars and answering the questions he might receive throughout the day. For the most part, though, he retreats to the dark and cozy area of his mind. 

—

He decides to take a refreshing walk back home. It’s only about a fifteen minute walk, and he does it often. More time to think. His headphones are tight against his ears, but not uncomfortable. Hyunjin initially chooses to blast a soft, slow tempoed song before he switches to something more heavy and aggravated. 

The music is cut and a millisecond later, his phone rings. It’s you. Oh, god. You’re going to rub your relationship in his face. 

When Hyunjin answers it, there’s an, albeit fake, smile on his face as if you could see him, and he begins to speak in a typical cheery tone. He’s cut off by a sob. He can’t understand a thing you’re saying and he panics. He stops in his tracks, hand curling to grasp at air in a panic. His eyes widen while he searches for any thought in his brain to console you. 

“Are you home? I’ll be on my way, okay?” He informs you, voice filled with worry. “We can stay on the line until I get there.”

And he stays on the phone with you until he reaches his home; and then the entire fifteen-block walk to your place. Avoiding the eyes of those who wonder whether he might be talking to himself. He hurries, speed walking the entire way—and almost sprinting at one point when your sobs had suddenly gotten worse—in order to reach your apartment in less time than it would usually take. 

He’s buzzed into your building and within a few seconds he’s at the door of your apartment. He doesn’t need to knock, as you open it immediately. Tears are staining your cheeks and you walk up to hug Hyunjin, not bothering to welcome him into your home. 

Now, everything is seemingly on pause, and Hyunjin is comforting you through your own heartbreak. Once again, time is both slowed down and sped up—he’s present but still lost in his head somewhere. Still, he waddles the both of you into your apartment, and kicks the door closed with his foot. 

He notices the flower arrangement he’d made just hours prior, sitting untouched on the kitchen counter. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Hyunjin questions. Dealing with those emotions, especially right after they surface, is difficult, and the last thing Hyunjin wants to do is push you into speaking about it—he knows the fresh wounds of a heartbreak all too well. So, he remains by your side, patient, and comforting until—if—you decide to speak. 

The two of you begin rocking side to side slowly. It’s soothing, and you’re able to speak just quietly. 

“Well, he proposed,” His stomach turns, tightening to the point where he becomes nauseous for a moment. Hyunjin even nearly rolls his eyes, but the thing that relieves him is the reason he’s here—obviously you turned Minho down. That, or Minho dropped dead; but that’s not as likely. Yet, the thing that nearly makes Hyunjin sicker is how much he hates that he’s happy that you declined the proposal. 

“And I declined. I-I said I wasn’t ready for marriage yet. Told him I wish we had discussed it a bit more before he did anything so we’d be on the same page. B-but I begged for us to stay together and he said… he said he couldn’t do it.” 

You bury your head in Hyunjin’s chest, weeping a bit more. 

“I know it hurts,” His words get lost in his mind somewhere, feeling as though he isn’t adequate enough to comfort you. 

“It hurts so bad.” You grab his hoodie with your fist tightly, twisting and tugging at it. 

“Let’s just cry it out. That always helps me.” He suggests, hand running up and down your back. 

“Cry with me? Like that scene in Midsommar?” You laugh through your sobs despite the hurt you’re in. Not that it matters to Hyunjin, of course. You can feel him laugh and, fortunately, it makes you smile. 

“Only if you want me to.” He unknowingly returns the smile. You don’t respond, but you ponder it—even as just a joke. 

The room falls silent but the silence is comfortable. That’s what you love about being around Hyunjin. You intrigue him, and while he always wants to know what’s going on in your mind, he never pressures you to speak. Sometimes, we learn more about ourselves—and to an extent, other people—through silence. 

The hug breaks. You fail to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You walk off to sit in the living room and Hyunjin goes to get water for the both of you. He sets the glasses of water down and takes a seat next to you. 

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asks. His palms are sweaty, so he wipes them onto his jeans.

Your frown somehow deepens before you speak. “Went to stay with his parents.”

Silence. Hyunjin can tell that you’re lost in thought. He feels a bit odd. Individually, you both have gone through a significant amount of breakups; but each one is different from the last. It’s been so long since you’ve had your heart broken. To see you like this after so long—eyes red and puffy with a tear stained face, bottom lip quivering as you try to console yourself—it breaks Hyunjin. He does what you would do for him. 

“What will help take your mind away?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. 

You ponder for a moment. “Remember back in February when you and Miyeong broke up? The sleepover we had while Minho was away? We stayed up all night eating snacks and watching romance movies,” 

He nods. Despite being deeply hurt to the point he got sick, the latter part of that week was one of the most enjoyable times that he’d had in forever. The two of you ate, drank, cried, and watched cheesy romantic movies (to which Hyunjin cried more). Through the stuffy fog that is heartbreak, Hyunjin was reminded that, sometimes, life isn’t so bad. 

“What if we did that again for a couple of days?”

Hyunjin ponders it, considers it, but… “We both have work.” He pouts.

“Not tomorrow, though. I just don’t want to be alone right now,” You need him. A crutch. A support system. And you know he’ll never let you down. “Plus, you act like you haven’t stayed over for long periods of time before! Remember the time that Jisung refused to shower out of spite so you slept over here?”

Hyunjin lets out a short chuckle. He knows that when he goes back to his apartment, it’ll be left a mess. But for you, he doesn’t mind cleaning up after Jisung. “Fine. But only because I love you and I want you to feel better, loser.”

—

“You just have to find your thing, you know?” Hyunjin takes another shot. Neither of you are sure just how many you’ve both had. 

“Like, you know, my thing is art, and flowers and, you know, expressing myself with them. It’s the one thing I can always come back to and feel good about. Not betrayed, not hurt, or anything. But good. That shop—god—it’s like the one place in this world that’s for me.”

He’s venting now. He shouldn’t be. This is all about you. Tonight is all about you. So he cuts himself short, words still lingering on the tip of his tongue. There’s a momentary silence, eventually broken by you.

“Are you implying that you want to fuck your flower shop?”

“Wha…? No! I’m just saying…I’m trying to help you!” His ears become red.

“Hm. Not sure. Sounds like you’re confessing your love for your job,” Hyunjin looks at you with a face full of temporary disgust. “I’m jooking! Find my thing, something to express myself with, I know, I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t be.”

Silence once again occupies the room, planting itself comfortably between you and Hyunjin. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. You do, though. 

“You know what’s kinda funny?” 

“Hm?”

“Minho used to mention, from time to time, how he believed you had a crush on me,” You smile. Hyunjin, however, is caught off guard, eyebrows raised with his eyes slightly wide. “I would always laugh it off but part of me kept thinking What If?”

“What if I had been with you instead of Minho. I mean, you wouldn’t propose to me without having a simple fucking conversation, right?” You ramble on. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Sure.” “Two secrets! It’s actually two secrets!”

“One,” You tilt your head to smile at Hyunjin. “I had the biggest crush on you for years. But I was so hurt because you kept going after literally every fucking body else. Wish you had paid attention to me.”

“And Two!” You continue, not as sad. Ignoring the previous sentences that came from your mouth. “I wish I could kiss you right now. Would you let me?”

He can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth. For a moment, Hyunjin feels ill. He’d somehow missed the signs. You wanted him, too. His eyebrows string together in a brief expression of sadness. He shakes it away. Hyunjin nods and leans in, his eyes close and he puckers his lips. Within a second, he feels your lips on his and then your hand on his thigh. 

Sparks. That’s the only way that Hyunjin can describe it. Your mouth is warm, wet and Hyunjin can only melt into you. The two of you melt into each other. Lips mashed together as your tongues slip into each other's mouths, swapping spit. At this point it’s more than kissing. It’s heavy and messy. It’s full of hurt and passion and the feeling of being missed. Or having something missed out on. Uncertainty. Neither of you have come up for air to interrupt the makeout session. Losing yourselves within each other's mouths—lips and tongue, occasional teeth. 

You end up climbing atop of him to straddle. Breaking the kiss to pin Hyunjin to the floor. You stare down at him, searching within his eyes. “Do you want me?”

“So much.” The two words leave Hyunjin’s mouth desperately. He’s in anguish. 

He tries to sit up, to chase your lips but he’s properly pinned. You plant one soft kiss against his lips. You stand, beckoning Hyunjin to follow you to your room; disappearing into the hallway. And Hyunjin does just that; leaving his sober self to pick up the pieces of a drunken, immoral night. 

© PLANETDREAM 2024

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/767914734241628160/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic767056822358?source=share

This kind of person is why, after I had a manic episode after being gangraped two years ago and deleted one of my fics, I quit logging into that account, quit logging into all related socials, and made a new username on AO3 to write under. It doesn't matter what happens to cause it, if you delete something, you are evil. You are burning things down to hurt others and delight and entertain yourself. You are beyond redemption. Even though the anon they're replying to put the story back up, that's not good enough. You are not allowed to fuck up. Fucking up is an indicator of moral failing and reveals your truly vile, awful nature.

Mistakes are not tolerated. So once one is made, your only way out, the only way to ever be viewed as anything other than dogshit by readers, is to give up on the story. Don't reupload it, don't apologize, don't try to explain yourself. You've failed. There's no coming back from that. Any explanation will be taken to be a plea for attention and sympathy, a trap, a manipulation. Reuploading gives the content back but doesn't undo that you were vile, disgusting and twisted enough to fuck up once in the first place.

The only option, if you ever fuck up, is to make a whole new persona entirely and start over. As long as people like this are around, there's nothing else to be done. Apologies won't help. Apologies are manipulation in the eyes of the internet, where everyone is viewed as a potential enemy by default. You have to just give up on the story and walk away.

I'd love to reupload my old story and finish it. But people like this mean that if I do so, I'll end up being known online for being a manipulative asshole instead of a writer of a story.

The internet never forgets is a popular saying. The more accurate one would be that it never forgives.

--

Anon, yet again, these are strangers.

Yes, plenty of them are rude strangers. If it's going to hurt your mental health, don't re-upload the story.

But no, strangers do not know about the horrible things that happened to you. If they did know, they would probably think "Jeez, that's terrible!" and move on with their day.

Randos on the internet do not have a lot of emotional involvement with you, and that's a good thing.

And no, most people don't actually think in these histrionic terms. ~Eeeevil~ blah blah blah. This kind of black and white thinking and high drama is best taken up with a therapist, not my inbox.

[goingmerryfics]

Please, please, please my man Katakuri x Big mom's Baker!Reader. The Reader would be the who cook katakuri's merienda

The Dozen - Baker!Reader x Katakuri

Content: Katakuri realizes he’s in love, that’s it

Notes* When I got this request I was nearly done with Whole Cake Island and let me tell you, I love this man and this prompt. Here you are!

Katakuri

Katakuri was starting to notice that the donuts taste different.

It wasn’t a bad thing, per say. Actually, it was quite the opposite. These ones weren’t as greasy, they were a little lighter, more vanilla, more glaze. 

It was enough for him to notice it quickly in the very short time since you had started working as Big Mom’s new baking apprentice, intending to take over the role as the head of the kitchen someday

Each donut was crafted with care, perfectly round and plated beautifully.

They paired well with his tea!

Katakuri knew his donuts. These were different, and he wanted to know why

That’s what led him to seeking you out for the very first time

 Hearing that he was on his way, the kitchen was in a panic- worried that maybe they had let you get too carried away with your new job, that maybe it was too early to let you serve him your baked goods.

But you were confident in your ability and your skill, unwavering until he’s standing before you

You had heard that he was tall, but this was a completely new level. He was huge, imposing, his presence demanded you attention without words.

You swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak

“Are you the baker that made my donuts?” He asks you calmly

You confirm his suspicions, and he nods

There’s a weird silence as he tries to figure out what to say.

There’s a few things about you that he wants to comment on- the colour of your hair, how wide your eyes are- but he settles with a quick word of praise for you to keep it up before leaving in a rush. 

It was a strange encounter for both of you, because as he leaves he finds himself… Confused

Charlotte Katakuri is known for his unflinching loyalty to his family, his honor, and his stoic, cool demeanor. A warrior that is undefeated and has never fallen on his back.

But all that feels like it’s been thrown out the window in an instant, because with just one look, he feels something changing inside him

He finds himself thinking of you even when he’s not eating your snacks

When he’s just going about his day and trying to act normal but he can feel the heat in his face when he thinks about those eyes of yours

He’s really glad for his scarf at times like these.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by others around him, and he always gets flustered when he’s trying to save himself.

Suddenly he can’t seem to control his emotions and it’s all your fault

He tries to keep it down, tries to suppress the feeling, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it.

Each new batch of donuts only makes him feel more and more for you

A month after your first encounter, he calls for you to meet with him. He needs to see you again, to talk to you properly, at least to get your name so he knows what to call the person that’s taken his heart so quickly

The person that’s taken him down with just a look

He wants to see you smile, know what your dreams are, and hear stories about where you’re from

It starts to become a weekly thing, and then about three times a week when he can spare the time

him seeking you out to talk, get to know you better, and listen to you laugh 

He’s a little apprehensive to talk much about himself, even as you encourage it, though

He’s such a sweetheart to you as you soon learn. He cares about his family and he does what he can to take care of his siblings in his work

He won’t confess to you, but you’re suspicious that he might have feelings

You’re pretty sure you’re starting to feel for him, too

[herejusttosufferalong]

You know what? I understand that the questions were awkward for them but they were relevant to the story. Sometimes they were asked pointedly but regardless, that’s an obvious question to have lined up! It’s the theme of the season. The entire cast was asked the question at one point or another. Would it get annoying and redundant for L and N? Duh but that’s press junkets, babes!

So, why? Why was L being defensive? Why did N look like she was solving a difficult math problem every time was asked?

Please share your opinion if you care to. You seem hesitant to most of the time so I won’t insist but I’m interested in your insights if you’d be willing to share.

So this ask has been sitting in my drafts since the end of July and honestly, I still don't have a good answer for any of this.

One would assume that the proper coaching had taken place for the both of them to answer the "friends to lovers" and subsequently any shipping questions.

However, it always seemed to be Nic answering for the both of them regarding their "relationship."

Sure Mr. Yeah would pipe up in agreement to whatever she would say but did he not have any thoughts of his own that he could actually share with the class?

The whole point of PR is the ability to craft, promote and maintain a narrative.

Yet they struggled in this area...

We got stock answers but they weren't always articulated well. They genuinely seemed like they had no clue how to answer certain questions about their off screen relationship.

Or maybe that was the craftiness of the "PR" all along...

Because calling their relationship/friendship "unique" was not off the cuff. It was very calculated, very intentional.

It is just vague enough to invite endless speculation while setting certain boundaries, even as muddied as they are.

Now I'm not saying their answers were all PR and that everything we saw on the WT was PR either. There was too many instances where their masks dropped.

But we can't deny that the WT was designed to manipulate and evoke certain emotions and conversation around our favorite characters who were promoting an upcoming season of a television show.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

Animated Series ending tier list

Okay this is based on a discussion with @j4gm, kim and mifil the other day

These are all cartoons with the exception of Homestuck. I'll admit I don't get invested in a lot of TV shows, even animated shows, so this is limited to stuff I like. Maybe i forgot something but if i did it's probably not worth talking about.

Here's the list if you're interested in building your own.

So I'll go through each item one by one and explain. Yes, I did arrange them based on better (left) and worse (right) for each tier. I'll start from top to bottom so I have the most energy for the better show endings.

I'm rating them both in how they respect the stories of their show, and how entertaining/cohesive they are as a piece of media. To be honest, the former matters to me more than the latter, but some of the shows at the top of this list aren't even ones I particularly like, because their endings were just that well written.

Astonishing

Owl House. This show got better and better with each episode. I don't know, I was blown away by how bad it was at the start and how great it was at the end. And of every item on this list, this one's ending episode had the best pacing. There was lots of room to breathe, lots of reminders of the connections between various characters, and the villain was taken care of in a satisfying way. And we got a beautiful epilogue. The only reason Owl House is in the same tier as She-ra and Gravity Falls, instead of being its own category, is because I felt it had some shortcomings, particularly s3e2 focused on a bunch of characters nobody has ever had any reason to care for, and a lot of the cast don't reach the potential they could do because they lack focus, so I don't have as much emotional attachment to it as a lot of other shows listed here. Anyway here's my favourite moment:

2. She-Ra and the Princess of Power. This is my favourite show on this list because I think it's the most cohesive of the lot. Even though it has a rough start, and often follows cartoon logic, from the very beginning of She-ra to the end it focuses strongly on the same themes. The cycle of abuse and pain and that feeling you will need to earn love, you need to earn the right to exist. It does so with a wide cast of characters, but it's also very good at trimming down to a smaller cast when it needs more focus. There are a lot of good decisions to make sure it worked in the small runtime it had. The ending of she-ra is basically its entire final season. It's one long arc. It doesn't have any major weak spots like The Owl House's final season did, and it has more room to breathe, with 13 incredible episode of about 20 minutes each, more than twice the length. And it delivers on every single character. Every member of the cast gets a moment to shine across the season, yet it isn't so distracted as to pull attention away from Catra and Adora. What makes She-ra's ending a bit weaker than Owl House's is the pacing of the final episode. Heart part 1 and 2, while great, is absolutely rammed, and one of the weaker episodes of that season because of it. You don't get enough room to breathe, you don't get to soak in the characters' emotions quite as much as in the episode prior, Failsafe. But I would count Failsafe as part of the ending. So while season 5's finale isn't even the best finale of She-ra (s3 and s4 were harder hitting), the final season as a whole is incredibly strong. And it's a very entertaining piece of media too! Ugh. I love it.

Here's this powerful scene of Catra whispering and yet screaming to Adora to stay with her, even in the end.

3. Gravity Falls.

To be honest I'm not much of a Gravity Falls fan, so I don't have as much to say as I do about the other two shows, but this ending is highly regarded across the cartoon community. It works perfectly within the smaller scope of the show, bringing a wide, crazy calamity for the characters to work with.

My problem with Gravity falls is Mabel. Not that she's a bad character, but that they don't spend enough time making her a good one. And the ending reflects that - it shows her doing something very major, overturning the world, and that's interesting, but it keeps presenting Mabel's problems as rather shallow instead of focusing on her psychology and why she's making these mistakes. Meanwhile it spends a lot of time on Dipper and explaining and justifying his teenage boy mentality and it drived me crazy how much more of a main character Dipper is than Mabel. Because it's Mabel I relate more to. She's more like I was when I was 12. It's a teen boy's show for teen boys, so I don't like it as much as Owl House or Amphibia. Other than that the ending is a good time and I love the themes of family, I love that Dipper has such low self worth and is grappling with the idea of what manliness even is, facing misguided pressure from other relatives like Stan and Ford. And I love the relationship between Stan and Ford, the mistakes they made, and how Stan ultimately takes responsibility for being an obstructive little shit by removing his memory, taking Bill with him!

Yeah, perhaps this show's ending could've been further strengthened by Stan having his memory lost forever, or having a harder time regaining it. But it makes sense in the stakes of Gravity Falls, where the world resets after every episode even if there was a zombie invasion. I don't see them having Stan forget his great nephew/niece as the ending of the show.

And it has a nice scene with the characters driving off in the bus... Heartbreaking. I love that Stan and Ford go adventuring together afterwards. And I love the theme song.

Remaining rankings below - I think these three should be celebrated most. It's gonna be a shorter summary from here.

Genuinely Good

These are endings that blow you away, but do have a couple nooks and crannies stopping them from reaching the top tier. Another person's list might put them at the top.

Adventure Time Distant Lands: See what's crazy about Distant Lands is that anyone one of these episodes might be the best in the series if it was a different show, but Adventure Time is such a good show that the way Distant Lands is different stands out to me. Like, Together Again, you might think I'm crazy for not putting it above Owl House, but while it's a fantastic episode, really emotional, it's not even my favourite Distand Lands episode. That would be Obsidian which I felt was a more honest resolution to the characters of the show itself, showing the limitless future ahead of the cast instead of what TA did which was demonstrate that Finn really didn't go much further after the end of the show. I felt TA was very limiting in that sense, it contradicted the ending to Adventure Time, which had the strength of "the adventure never ends". Which means that growth never ends. Finn is supposed to be an ever changing character, but in Together Again, he's stagnant.

Other than that, it's absolutely top tier. But not good enough for me to call it the best of the best. Even if I think Finn's character writing was a downgrade, or harmed the main show, I think where DL and TA did better than Come Along With Me is it was actually coherent and had strong themes rather than being a mishmash of random parts of Adventure Time that they wanted to shove in before it was over. It was a better tv finale, one of the best and most emotional ever made, but it's hard to call it a better Adventure Time finale, because AT's legacy hinders on so much more. 2. OK KO: Let's be Heroes: This is a show that went under the radar. It was coming out at the same time as Steven Universe, which was far more popular. So I'll explain it to you: OK KO has two endings. KO has grappled with his alternate persona, TKO, for the entire show. In the first ending, TKO takes over, and starts fighting everyone in a giant tournament. He literally kills all the cast, while KO is struggling to regain control. KO's epiphany is that TKO is a part of himself he buried long ago. KO has always tried to be the sweetest kid possible, so all his rage and fire, all his strength, was neglected and buried. That became TKO. It's similar to the ending of Celeste. They fuse together, but KO is crying because he killed all his friends. So he makes a wish to the God of the Universe to give everyone a happy ending. Then you get a really nice ending montage of all the characters from OK KO having the time of their life. One interesting touch was Venomous, KO's bastard father, had very little to do with KO in this timeline. KO clearly wanted nothing to do with him. But Venomous is shown raising his adoptive daughter Fink and doing a fantastic job. The final episode of OK KO has KO seemingly stuck in time acceleration. Time is flying by, his friends are achieving their goals, leaving the town, way before he can begin to process what he's even doing here. Everything is going faster and faster and it's like he's jumping forward! He doesn't know what's going on!!! But when he explains his plight, he's told... This is normal. This is a normal part of growing up. What seems like time acceleration is just time passing by. Then the rest of the episode show KO going through his life in the same manner. A big gag of the show is KO is age 6-11. That's his age. It's the same as the target audience for OKKO. But you see him grow up. His twelth to fifteenth birthday... 18th to 24th birthday... 25th to 35th birthday... At the end, he's in charge of the Bodega, a full adult looking after runts just like Mr Gar did. I dunno, I felt this was a very meaningful way to end the show. Even if it's not the most emotionally heavy hitting series, even if it's way too short, it did something that stays in my mind to this day. Time goes by in such a flash that you don't notice it was there to begin with, so appreciate the good things life throws at you.

3. The Legend of Korra: The show Korra wasn't particularly great, if I was rating the media as a whole it would probably be at the very bottom of this list. Yes below Star and Homestuck and Kipo. It's not remarkable in the slightest and constantly fumbles.

However I was at the edge of my seat during the series finale in Season 4. I was excited by the conflict between Korra and Kuvira. I loved the metalbending battles. I loved Korra's actualisation, how Kuvira is a very good rival, how their whole conflict plays out with Korra demonstrating such an INSURMOUNTABLE LEVEL OF STRENGTH both in power and character to save Kuvira from her own mistake.

I love how Korra decides to take a break and leave with Asami into the spirit world through the portal she just opened. It was a nice relationship in a show that has so heavily fumbled its prior character dynamics.

And you can't forget how it felt watching this the first time. Afterwards, Bryke made a post on tumblr saying "Korrasami is Canon". You have to remember, this was long before Bubbline was anything more than subtext in two episodes. This was before Steven Universe's "Stronger than You". This was the first time two girls were confirmed to be in a relationship in a kid's cartoon in America. I was so happy. You have to understand Korrasami did a lot of good things and made a lot of the queer representation in these other items possible.

Did the job

These are endings that were OK. They were satisfying but they weren't anything special. They weren't the best episodes or seasons of the series they're from.

Avatar: The last Airbender: I will be honest this show is in a similar realm to She-ra wherein its whole final season is one big buildup to a couple of fast-pased episodes. And honestly its final episode might be better than She-ra's in a pacing sense? But... The simple part is I don't like Avatar as much. I didn't feel particularly strongly about most of these characters. It's a very competent tv finale, with strong scenes - the Agni Kai, and Katara's capture of Azula, are particular strong points. But it's quite long and there are a lot of scenes I don't feel much about, like Aang vs Ozai. Back in the day lots of people were unhappy Aang spared Ozai, and I get that it's not in character for him to just kill him, but it was the original "deus ex machina" for Aang to find a way to get out of it and get what he wanted. It isn't particularly interesting. And then Aang x Katara... I don't care. So yeah ATLA does the job. It's a great final season but I don't care for the finale itself and the characters. while great for the time - by far the EARLIEST show to release on this list - are more childish and cartoony than most. They don't have depth required to compete with more modern cartoons. You've only got maybe two outstanding characters in a tight story vs She-ra's one dozen in a looser story, and honestly I value character more than cohesion because that's what you remember. That's what makes you feel things. Anyone can make a story where things happen but what makes you care? Being a bit harsh here because a lot of people call this the greatest show of all time blah de blah and throw away everything all the other shows do better. But the ATLA finale isn't even in the top ten most interesting episodes of the series. This part went hard though (couldn't find a video of it alone):

Azula starts the scene dominating Katara, and then Katara turns the tables and restrains her using the very ice which fire is supposed to melt, which is mentally destroying for Azula. All she can do is scream and breathe fire when she is restrained, unable to let out all her rage and pain. And Katara spares a moment to witness this, looking troubled, before she runs off to Zuko, attempting to save his life.

2. Adventure Time original ending: Why is my favourite show of all time listed so far down? Why? Well it's because while that AT finale is emotional, hits a lot of themes, it's... a fucking mess. The first part is a war which has only been relevant for two episodes, the second part is a dream sequence which destroy any tension you might've had, and the rest is an unrelated battle against GOLB because we needed a real final boss.

It's a really bad tv finale. And it even does harm to my favourite character in the show, Princess Bubblegum, by making her seem irrational. She's someone who has had the entire series for us to get to know her, to see her biggest flaws and see her struggle to overcome them. So for her to fall back on them yet again, nearly fuck everyone over, with such little buildup and justification and literally throw a child tantrum when Finn interrupts it, it's an injustice to her. She deserved better than everyone thinking she's a fascist forever. The AT crew should have respected their own work on that character better instead of leaving her off like that.

But... even despite these issues, despite being so incoherent? It's a great Adventure Time ending. It makes perfect sense. Of COURSE it's anticlimactic! Of COURSE there's a ten minute dream sequence of crazy shit happening! Of course it's so sudden, things happen so quickly without much time spent to reflect on them! It's Adventure Time! This is what we're HERE for! And the emotional heart of the episode, it isn't really in the Great Gum War or the battle against Golb. It's in Shermie and Beth, and Future Ooo. The fact that the world will end again, but even then.. it's fine. Everything changes. Everything grows. Nothing can stay as it is forever, but letting it go might allow something new and beautiful to take its place.

It's in Jake trying to protect his home, freaking out, and BMO coming in... instead of being looked after, BMO decides to reassure jake, even in certain doom.

It's in Time Adventure. We may not be able to go home, turn back time, relive the past and return to how things were, but... you and I will always be back then.

3. Scavenger's Reign: I felt this show started stronger than it ended. The ending wasn't offensive but it wasn't good either. Honestly I don't have shit to say about the ending, other than that Barry is an annoying stereotype of an autistic character with no agency of his own and it breaks my heart. I liked how relentlessly bad Kris was and I liked Azi struggling to save the day. I liked how her character evolved from being straightfoward and pushing down Levi's curious, kind traits, to embracing those very things in her memory.... while maintaining the strength in adversity needed to challenge someone like Kris. The baby alien thing sure was there. I dunno, the earlier eps with those two hit harder than the ending. The worst part is the sequel bait. We are not getting a sequel. Why is there sequel bait? Seems like the crew were a bit too optimistic for a team of cartoonists working for HBO Max.

But the show as a whole is incredible and has left a strong impression. So, an inoffensive ending is completely fine. I like how everyone is still stranded because of Kris, who meanwhile is dehydrating to death in space because of the organic Levi invasion, and all the people they left behind are chilling in the alien wonderland, learning how to live comfortably.

4. Fionna and Cake: We're now moving into the endings I dislike for one reason or another. I liked Fionna and Cake's themes with Simon and Betty, how it showed a bit more from Betty's side, how obsessive she was with him and he didn't even know.

This does have a weakness though. It removes agency from Betty. It was her choice, in the finale, to sacrifice herself to become GOLB. She was chasing Simon over and over and over again, SHE was the obsessive mad scientist, and she finally achieved her goal at great cost even though could've given up at any time. It was a tragedy. But here it kinda shifts the blame on Simon, even though he was a victim of Betty's obsession. I'm not accusing it of victim blaming, more that I really liked that it was Betty making her own terrible mistakes. It added a lot of character and conviction to her. I don't think Fionna and Cake undermines this much. Kim was a lot more bothered. Besides the Simon plot, the rest is.. ok. It was very predictable Fionna would want to protect the boring, happy world she came from. It fits and it has heart. But it's not remarkable. The ending montage is... weird. Why is Jay and Little Destiny here? Why is Baby Finn here? What about their worlds? Won't they be missed? Did Farmworld Finn fucking die? And the big problem with Fionna and Cake is.. it's such a meanspirited show, even compared with Adventure Time. It relies on you finding tragic shit really funny, like BMO having a horrible gory deeath in jerry. When Fionna and Cake has desensitized me this much, it's hard to feel emotionally invested in this world anymore. It made mistakes by showing too many alternate universes and undermining the world of Adventure Time itself, and I have issues with how Marceline was completely absent from the series - AGAIN - despite allegedly being so important to Simon. It's an outright BAD Adventure Time ending!!! I do love the presentation of Casper and Nova, how it was revealed it wasn't Simon Petrikov but the little Fionna and Cake fan who was able to write the story that finally got through to him and made him realise he needed to stop holding betty back.

"You were a good experience, Simon. Goodbye."

Mistakes were Made

These are the endings that fumbled, disappointed people. They still have value in them but theyre largely disliked by the fanbases involved. I'll explain a bit of why.

1, Arcane: This one just ended last night and is the reason I'm making this post.

I explained a bit here and here, but the issue is: Arcane's a much better show than it has any right to be. It's a league of legends cartoon. But season 1 is so heavy hitting, a tight ship from start to end focusing on the dramas of Vi, Jinx, and the people around them. The main weakness of season 1 was Jayce, Viktor, and Mel. It would distract from the main story in order to focus on them, but wouldn't spend enough time making them compelling characters. Season 2 has this issue tenfold where it seems the scope of the season was so big that it had very limited time to have those amazing scenes from season 1. And there certainly some heavy hitters, like Ekko save-scumming his conversation with Jinx to find a way to stop her killing herself, or Caitlyn and Mel's battle with Ambessa, or Jayce and Viktor yetting themselves into arcane oblivion, but... the finale itself seems very disconnected from the rest of the series, having a generic big bad in Possessed Chaos God Viktor. It lacks any of the intrigue of the Piltover vs Zaun conflict that was so important from s1e1 all the way to s2e4, after which it was promptly discarded in favour of other distractions. And as a result, Jinx and Vi are left as side characters in the ending of their own series, with a lot of their internal struggles left behind. Instead of the tragedy of season 1's ending, we are left thinking of the tragedy of how much better the ending could've been if they had just one more season to give these characters justice.

The strongest episode of the season is probably episode 6. If you know, you know.

2. Ducktales: So if you were a casual viewer of Ducktales you probably had no issues with this one. It's a competent TV finale where stuff happens and all the characters get involved and there are emotional themes.

What's weird about this one, and why it's so far down, is because of Webby's role. Webby is a misfit because she's not a member of the Scrooge family. She's a wannabe. She wants to be part of them, part of the siblings, and she has more in common with Scrooge and Della's brilliance than the other three, but she will never have that blood relationship. Her own parents are dead too, so she has feelings about watching the triplets reunite with their mother.

But in season 3... Ot's like the Ducktales writers were told they only had one episode left to work with and just made something up, and what they decided to do was take the "found family" trope and say "actually it was real family the whole time because Webby was Scrooge's secret clone daughter".

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The show did such a good job before this point showing Webby's development as she gets loved and accepted into the family. But for her to have always secretly had that blood relationship undercuts it fully.

It also undercuts her relationship to her grandmother, who tries to move out of the picture as soon as the truth comes out. The show does have Webby embracing her gran to show theyre still family. But we already had this story told in a better way with Webby and Scrooge and the triplets.

The fact the finale has nothing to do with the rest of the season is also why it's so far down. The season 2 finale was pretty spectacular by comparison and had compelling scenes like Della freaking out over protecting her kids and "running to the moon" with them, recycling her trauma (yes a ducktales character has trauma).

If you're not bothered by it, it's an inoffensive, fun finale. But more obsessive Ducktales fans and Webby fans were quite upset, myself included.

3. Kipo and the age of Wonderbeasts

I can't remember much about how this show ended. Honestly that's part of the problem. The first season was far more intrigueing than anything that followed and the whole thing came out across 2020 and it was a forgettable experience despite Karen Fukuhara voicing the energetic Kipo.

What I do remember is being pissed off about some things. Like how a lot of the talking animals were turned into non-talking animals and that was how things ended for them, and no vaccine or anything was made. It pissed me off somehow? Please kipo fans tell me your feelings on this.

I also disliked the final villain. She's a lot like Kris from Scavenger's Reign but even more generic and disappointing.

I dunno, to me the finale represents the wasted potential of this show. How it takes place in a world that rivals Adventure Time's, but Netflix did away with it so quickly, releasing three entire seasons in one year and leaving it with a generic end.

The peak into everyone's futures is nice, but it's not intrigueing like with The Owl House or Adventure Time.

4. Steven Universe: What a hot mess of an ending that threw out so much potential for the wider Steven Universe world. The motivations of the main villains were narrowed down to "we have emotional problems". Steven Universe has a consistent issue where it has emotional scenes at the expense of characters and story.

But I rate this more highly than the SU Future ending, despite that one having perhaps more cohesive writing, because I felt that the SU end had some incredible scenes that carried the spirit of the show while SU Future constantly undermined the original series without providing enough value of its own.

In particular, the scene James Baxter animated of Steven and Steven. This was mind-blowing, it was the climax to the most important part of the story, the truth of Steven's identity and whether he was his own person.

In retrospect that scene brings more value to me than all the bad parts of SU... but SU had so many amazing characters. It's a tragedy that Steven was the only one of them that the show still loved by the end.

Hardest line:

She's GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!

5. Amphibia: Season 3 was plagued by being worse than season 2. The opening episodes on Earth were kinda bad, just "Amphibia season 1 episodes but in a far more boring setting". I hated anything involving the secret agents.

The fact Kipo, Scavenger's Reign, and Amphibia all have corpo villains at the end, and the fact I didn't like any of those endings, shows to me that it's not a particularly great thing to add to a fantasy story.

The first sad part is "the magic is destroyed". A popular theme in Disney shows. Well, what happens here is Sasha, Anne, and Marcy lose their magic abilities, and they decide to stay on Earth and lose the ability to travel to Amphibia. It's not massively offensive but it's kind of played out and generic and it does the sad thing of separating the trio from their found family. What's controversial is the epilogue shows that Anne, Sasha, and Marcy stopped hanging out after the end. They just broke off from each other's lives, it was easy as that. It wasn't a lifelong friendship. They do reunite in the end but it's been like ten years. It undermines the emotional turmoil that was present across the whole show. What Matt Braly wanted to show is sometimes things happen. Despite how much you want to be best friends forever... you stop being close to people, you lose touch with them. But this isn't a story that makes much sense when the characters have been through so much together in a fantasy world. It's like Marcy's worst fears have come true, and while that's a point of growth for her, it's frustrating for the viewers who believed the endgame bonds between the characters were better than that.

[Edit: Other than that, a lot of characters weren't delivered in justice s3 with how they had been built up in season 2. Sasha is hardly present in season 3 and Marcy is genuinely not present at all, and when we watched it we really thought they were gonna do more with Marcy when she came back. Swim in that emotional trauma a little bit! But no she's fine even with her evil father figure gone. It could've been better, should've been because season 2 was so stellar.] And I wasn't a fan of how Anne was portrayed at the end. I don't like how these stories make their characters "grow up" in such a way that they come across as love-all hippies instead of having anything resembling their original personality. Where's her sass? Why is she so melancholic and only melancholic? But that's a personal problem I haven't seen many others talk about.

Other than that, it's a competent episode. But it's the ending to a weaker season compared to what came prior.

The cat in this drawing has been my discord icon since we watched it though.

What the Hell?

These are the endings that shat the bed. I hate them! Everyone else probably does too.

Steven Universe Future: Unlike the other endings of this section, I did feel like Rebecca Sugar was going somewhere with SU future. They had a specific goal in mind for what they wanted to do, and every episode reaches towards that goal in some way. That's why a lot of people think Steven Universe Future is better than the more disjointed, huge tv series that came prior. It had a set start middle and end and carried through those themes. Unfortunately, those themes suck. Yeah, it's great deconstructing the impact Steven Universe had on Steven as a character, showing the damage that was done to him, the ways he's been let down. In isolation, it's a great way to show how a difficult childhood can affect you in adulthood, in ways that you would have never expected. This is the value SU Future has. It also has good sections showing how some other characters have recovered, how Pearl for example is healing and far more social than she ever has been but still has a ways to go, and finally talks to someone about her feelings over Pink Diamond, the previous Pearl that served her. Volleyball is a great episode. Unfortunately it takes the wrong lessons from the mistakes of the show. Steven Universe really wanted us to fall in love with its many characters, but it spent so much time showing Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl's flaws, spent so much time showing them failing Steven, that they ultimately came across as incompetent and sidelined. This is an issue with the original show. Steven Universe Future: "You know what? You're right! That was bad!" Me: "So are you going to do those characters justice and show them having growth and being competent and caring for Steven?" Steven Universe Future: "No. We are going to show them BEING EVEN WORSE and COMPLETELY FAILING to connect with Steven!" Me: "... For the entire thing????" Steven Universe Future: "Yes. this is never fixed and Steven leaves the county because of it." Me: "What the fuck?" Even people who were really into the whole thing were taken aback that Steven's kaiju transformation, the manifestation of his deepest fears about himself, was resolved with a hug. Just like the major conflict in the original show. And instead of a meaningful denouement, the show skipped all the resolution and went to Steven running the fuck away in an episode that would've had equal emotional value if it was in season 1 episode 1, or a competely different series. It was cheap and easy to make a bittersweet ending of Steven leaving the city. And it made it feel like the tragedy of Steven's mental breakdown was more important than his healing. Like they couldn't make an interesting story of him getting better because they're incompetent writers. I did like the scene of Steven crying his eyes out after he detransformed. And a lot of scenes in Future did go hard. But the Crystal Gems deserved better. Hell, Jasper deserved better.

Hardest scene:

2. Star vs the forces of Evil: Hooo boy. In the animation community this is HERALDED as The Worst Ending. It is the flagship of disappointment.

It disappointed people who loved the magical world the show took place in. It disappointed people who wanted to see Star reach her potential. It disappointed every shipper of every ship, not that I ever cared for the romance dramas but they took a lot of screentime on the show to its detriment. It disappointed people who like to apply basic logic to the things they watch. What a disaster!

Okay so why is it so hated?

Well, Star had been on the decline for a while. It had a fantastic start to season 3, with a great big war for Mewnie where everyone had great character moments, Star died and came back to life and utterly annihilated the villain. Toffee was a great villain, by the way.

There had been a bit of romantic tension between Star and Marco and they both had crushes on each other but refused to ever admit it and Marco thought he was into some other girl, and Star let him go at the start of season 3 and started dating... her ex... this shitty guy called Tom... he's a good character but a terrible boyfriend who kind of suicide baits Star back into his life. And Star would become a terrible girlfriend. I dunno, people really thought that pairing would be endgame but it was clear to me it was just an artificial obstacle in the way of the inevitable Starco ship. Like Kelly. Who Marco dates for a whopping half an episode before they break up offscreen. Great?

Anyway the romance in this series is on the same tier as Korra, though it does try to build up its endgame pairing from the start.

But from season 3 onwards Marco felt more like a joke character. I don't know, they didn't treat him with much respect.

The thing that EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT with Star, oh god it's going to be the longest thing on this list, is Moon and Eclipsa and Mina and the atrocious decisions the characters made.

I'm going to bullet point it so it's vaguely readable:

Star's mother, Queen Moon, goes missing following the events of the start of s3 special.

Star learns that the throne was stolen from monster-fucker Eclipsa and wrongly given to her own family line so she gives the crown to Eclipsa, to great controversy. Eclipsa is a dark magic user who is 300 years old and she's pretty cool but the show takes a sharp turn from this point to being about a racial conflict - Monsters being discriminated against by Mewmans and how a lot of people want to keep it that way.

The council which was previously on the side of good really HATES this decisionn and is now portrayed as bad.

Conflict breaks out and people are against Eclipsa and her giant person-eating husband leading the kingdom.

People have their homes given back to the monsters that they were stolen from hundreds of years ago. It's a silly cartoon form of reparations but it is shown giving them hardship because they are made homeless. By the way nobody in history has been made homeless because of reparations.

These homeless or disgruntled mewmans find Moon, who has re-emerged and decided to stay away from the kingdom. They want their old queen back and side with her, and she thinks they need someone to represent them. She also hates Eclipsa for various reasons.

Moon decides the best way to deal with Eclipsa is to arm the biggest fascist monster-killing character in the world with an invincible undefeatable army of magic soldiers, and retake the kingdom and go to war against the side her own daughter is on.

Moon gets a surprised pikachu face when she realises she can't undo the spell she used to make this fascist evil super army.

Star decides the best way to resolve this is to delete all magic. Kill it. They go to the source of all magic and use a spell to kill everything there. Lots of reindeer die.

Then every magical thing in the universe gets deleted. Every single magic-born creature. The entire council is murdered. All of the creatures in Star's magic wand die. Countless portals to other worlds are closed down, meaning many of the characters can no longer go and see their friends anymore. This is directly shown, by the way - not just inferred.

Somehow, Ponyhead survives.

Then this is capped off by Marco and Star wanting to reunite... and in a scene that is supposed to be emotional, they cleave their universes together. Mewnie lands on top of Earth. Normal humans are screaming as they are chased around by giant creatures.

The story ends.

Yeah do I have to explain any more why this one was unpopular? It's the biggest fumble you can speak of.

My biggest issue is how dumb they had to make Moon in order to achieve this outcome.

But Starco is kind of cute, even if Marco wasn't half the character he used to be by the end.

3. Homestuck: Which ending do you want me to discuss? Act 6? The epilogues? Or HS^2?

Let's start with the main work, as that's what makes Homestuck qualify as an animation.

Act 6 was a vast disappointment because it sort of ended. We had so much talking for so long that we were hoping something cool would happen and then we got a flash where the characters hit each other with sticks. There were no stakes in Collide, not really.

Then we got the Frog flash. We watched a frog for 8 minutes.

Then that was it!

There were so many unanswered questions. What the hell happened to the final boss and the MAIN CAST, for example. We had learnt earlier in the story that in some point of the future, the main cast all get stuck in a little homestuck house which Vriska fires at Lord English. But we never learn when, we never learn if they're ok, we never learn if English is killed or what happens to Vriska. So for a long time there was this disturbing implication that the cast would all die not long after the series ended.

We had the Credits which were much better but further solidified this implication, and it had Terezi fly out into the void looking for Vriska forever, which made me sad and depressed but that was because of my personal involvement in the story really.

Act 6 is more of a "mistakes were made" ending, but it's the Epilogues and HS^2, and the actions of creator Andrew Hussie, which are why it's rock bottom here.

I don't want to give my breath to those items. Let's just say they were the most meanspirited, intentionally offensive, hostile, character-destroying sets of stories every done, created by people who accused every homestuck fan who didn't like them of being "not really trans" or "pedophile harborors" or "deserving to be lined up and shot" (real quote).

And then the fact Hussie fired his entire crew twice and blacklisted them if he ever had any suspicion they complained about his leadership or financial decisions anywhere.

And the fact the entire whatpumpkin team were left uncredited in the original release of Hiveswap Act 2 because Hussie didn't want to give them any credit because he wants his friends to be a hivemind.

I have so much hatred for what Homestuck became. It's tragic because this series was such a big part of my life for so long.

It's also tragic because the main work is a masterpiece. Even Act 7, despite the criticism, is Guzusuru's masterwork with how much effort went into the animation. How much heart went into each illustration the old Paradox Space team made.

So that's it. Homestuck is the one that is not just a little bit worse than Star. Leaps and bounds worse.

But that's it. I have a lot of opinions on endings because they can colour how you view the entire previous work.