#i need to look determined. i need to make it to the last year

[gotta-winwin]

Can I request a full oneshot on that dino when accepting an award like shouting out his wife and watching the internet explode and the members reaction to him I NEED THIS it got me kicking my feet and giggling just by thinking this 🛐🛐🛐 HAHHAHAHA

btw I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS!! 😘

hehehe omg ofc! i was kicking my feet and giggling while writing this dino has no business looking THAT fine and bias wreaking me( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) thank you so much for both requesting and enjoying my work!

where's the trophy... he just comes running over to me <3

masterlist fic that prompted this oneshot

word count: 1.4k tw/cw: idol!dino x wife!reader, childhood friends to lovers, public shoutout, a whole lot of sap, seungkwan clowning dino a/n: writing this just makes me want to see svt with their s/o in real life (we know these boys aint single bro)

It's a quiet and unassuming day until you're reminded that today is the MAMA awards. It didn't help that the award show wasn't hosted in Korea this year, leading to you being stuck on your couch, hands quivering as the show began.

It had been a tough yet rewarding year for Chan and his group mates, and you had been lucky enough to see it all. You felt proud that even with the distance, you had always been the first person Chan would call for anything.

Headlining Glastonbury? He had shined brightly onstage and even brighter during your video call, where he took you through his day, making it feel like you had been with him every step of the way.

Tour? He was texting you in between songs, updating you on the tiniest things despite you scolding him that he needed to concentrate on the show. He just couldn't help it, his mind immediately drifting to you whenever something remotely interesting took place. Baby, DK's pants ripped onstage just now. He'd text you, shoulders still shaking from laughter. Coups hyung got barked at again. Whatever tidbit it was, Chan's name lighting up on your screen was a warm embrace compared to the lonely nights without him.

It'd all be worth it now, you thought, as you let out a gasp of joy when Seventeen's name was announced as Artist of the Year. Your hands were still shaking as you picked up your phone to record the moment.

Chan's face glowed on your tv screen as he walked up with his members to accept the award. You couldn't help but remember how he used to look - kidish, tiny, cute and juvenile. You recalled how drastic the change had been, as you both matured and grew together, leading you to realize how hot he looked - so built and handsome. Yet it was the bubbly glow that stayed with him despite aging that you loved the most.

"Thank you Carats!" Your husband raised the trophy proudly into the air. "You know...I was the only one who didn't get to speak when we won a daesang last year..."

You couldn't help but scoff endearingly at how sassy he could be while receiving an award you knew would make him sob to you later.

"Ever since our debut," He continued, staring at you through the tv screen. "My dream was to be an artist that would remain in history."

You could remember that, even now, years later.

"I'm going to make you a promise." 15 year old Chan had told you, on the rare chance he had gotten a break from training. He had taken the two of you to the park in between Pledis and your house.

"Promise me what?" You had replied, lips feinting a small smile as you watched his eager expression.

"That one day, I'm going to be an artist that will stay throughout history." His face was full of raw determination. "And that you'll be right there with me. On top of the world. One day, I'll be an artist you can be proud of."

Seems like he kept that promise.

"And those feelings..." He continued speaking into the mic. "Those feelings will continue as we go into the future with Carats." The crowed cheered at his words.

You could tell from his face that something was up. He had that mischievous look that would only come out whenever he was about to do something to tease you.

"And..." He took a pause, smiling at the dramatic effect it had caused. "Well..."

You half wanted to reach through the tv and smack him, as your heart raced in anticipation. You had ran through his speech with him on video call days ago. This wasn't part of it.

"I once made a promise to someone," He finally said aloud, and you knew immediately what he was doing, mouth dropping in both surprise and realization. "A long time ago, when we were both very young, I made a promise that I would become an artist she could be proud of." He smiled bashfully at the memory of both the moment and the person. "I also promised her that she would be there with me, on top of the world."

You had to sit down, your legs failing you.

"I kept my promise, didn't I?" He said into the mic, and you could tell he was speaking just to you. "I hope you're proud of everything I've done, my lovely, patient wife. Only you could've stuck by me for fourteen years." He added the last part teasingly. "I love you." He raised the trophy in his hands. "This- this is for you." Pausing, he corrected himself. "Well- for you and the members." He smiled sheepishly at the boys behind him. "It is our award."

Dino had gotten Seungcheol's approval minutes before the award show began, begging the leader to let him shout out his wife. "Please, please, please, hyung." He had pleaded, trying to convey that this was literally his lifelong dream. "I've always wanted to do that. Just drop a bomb into the world and walk off." Seungcheol could only sigh, staring at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. He nodded, although he knew it would inevitably create a media frenzy for the company to clean up. "Go for it." He patted their maknae on the back. "Not my problem, not my mess."

Jeonghan had been kept blissfully in the dark until he was watching their acceptance speech live. The further Dino's speech went, the further his jaw dropped. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Dino was shouting out his wife on the stage at MAMA awards, accepting an AOTY award. Immediately after, he calls Dino up, scolding him for not telling him sooner and admitting it was a baller move.

Joshua had been busy trying to comfort a near-tears Seungcheol, Dino's speech barely registering in his ears. He's blissfully confused when the crowd goes bonkers, yelling into DK's ear to tell him what on earth happened. He's proud of Dino, acknowledging that their maknae has grown up to the point that the world now knows he has a whole wife.

All the way in China, Jun's watching the show live on his phone from his trailer on set. The connection is spotty, leaving his members in pixels and full of lag. Thankfully, the only clear part is Dino's speech, leaving Jun in deep shock and a little wounded. He wished he had been there for that.

Hoshi's loud ass gasp is the only thing fans can hear from the crowd other than their own screaming. It's clear on his face that he's flabbergasted - leading fans to speculate if he even knew Dino had a wife.

Wonwoo can't help but let out a hearty laugh once the weight of Dino's speech sinks into his bones. He knows the media and fans are going to have sooo much fun with this. He feels bad that you're now in the spotlight and hopes Dino got your permission beforehand...did he?

Very busy trying to will his tears away, Woozi's shocked out of his feels, tears evaporating at the sound of Dino's voice and the word wife. He's shocked, but happiness takes over when he realizes this will overshadow the fact that he's about to ball on global tv.

Minghao's just got that goofy shocked expression on his face as he registers the moment. He's smiling from ear to ear, basking in the joy that's radiating off of Dino. Who is he to stand in the way of Dino finally showing off his love?

Mingyu is over the moon. Having been your biggest supporter, he's elated you and Dino are finally going public. The fact that he's currently onstage accepting a daesang is completely thrown out of his mind, replaced with the joy of seeing Dino thrive.

Poor Woozi has DK's arms wrapped around him as if DK's trying to suffocate the man. He can't contain his excitement and joy at the reveal, accidentally using Woozi as a stress ball. He tackles Dino as they walk offstage, yelling about how CUTE that was and how lucky you are to have each other.

Seungkwan's stunned into complete silence. He's lowkey judging (just a little bit) at how insane Dino is acting right now - knowing this is bound to stir the pot online. He's the first one to tease Dino, going as far as clowning him during his own speech. "I once made a promise..." Seungkwan fails to keep a straight face as he clowned Dino's speech to his wife. "And I-" He's kicked off the mic by Dino before he can finish.

Vernon simply nods in approval as he watches Dino finish his speech. He respects the confidence and craziness to do such a thing, especially with how dating was basically a taboo for them as idols- and bros hard launching a whole ass wife!

[mynameismckenziemae]

No Nut November

Part 1 (Part 2 here)

Jake Seresin x Female Reader/You x Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: Bradley and Jake decide to partake in No Nut November…without consulting you first. You’re determined to make them cave.

Warnings: Adults (18+) only! MDNI! This work contains: adult language, dirty talk, teasing, talks of ass play/anal, oral (f receiving), a little spanking.

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“You wouldn’t last a week,” Jake chuckles as he leans forward over the green velvet pool table to shoot, “I’ve bunked with you for chrissakes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bradley asks, resting his back against the wall.

The way his eyes heat when they flick to Jake’s jean-clad ass makes your stomach flutter as you drop off the round of beers.

There’s…something going on between them, but you never ask. Just like they know you’re hooking up with both of them, but neither ask you about that either.

“It means,” Jake straightens as he replies, “I’ve heard you rub one out. Like, every night.”

The image his words bring to mind nearly makes you drop the tray. Bradley lying there in the dark, hand shoved inside those boxer briefs, biting his lip to stay quiet as he hurriedly jerks off…

Bradley flushes but appears otherwise unbothered he takes the beer you offer. His eyes are on yours while he replies, “I’ve got a high sex drive.”

God, does he ever. Not once in the countless nights you’ve spent with him over the past year has he only gone one round. Usually, the next morning too, when you wake up to his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“And no self-control apparently,” Jake quips at your back, sliding his fingers down your arm as he reaches around to take one of the bottles.

Bradley rolls his eyes as he takes a long swig, holding the bottle out to you when he’s done. “Will you hold this while I wipe the floor with Bagman, sweetheart?”

“Hangman,” Jake corrects like he does every time.

Bradley winks as he hands you the bottle, knocking his shoulder into Jake’s after he takes the cue from him.

“So,” you say as you turn to watch, leaning back in the spot Bradley vacated before bringing his beer to your lips to steal a drink, “What were you two talking about?”

“No Nut November,” Jake replies, retesting beside you. “A couple of the boys are participating. Bradshaw thinks he could do it no problem.”

“What about you?” You look up day him, “Think you can go a full month without it?”

He licks his lips, taking a drink before meeting your gaze.

“30 days of without your hand,” your nails trail up his arm, goosebumps rising in their wake, “or mine.” He tenses when you lean in to whisper near his ear, “Without my mouth or pussy…”

“Fuck,” he breathes, turning his head. The green in his eyes is hardly visible from his lust-blown pupils. The low din of the bar fades away as he draws closer for a kiss.

“Your turn,” Bradley interrupts, causing you both to jump, “And you say I’m the one with no self-control?”

“Yeah,” Jake pushes off the wall, clearing his throat, “You’re the one who can’t wait to jerk off until his bunkie is asleep,” he turns to look at you with a haughty look, “and yes. I can go 30 days without.”

Your brow arches at the line he just drew.

Game on.

“Fuck off,” Bradley laughs, as Jake tugs the cue from his hand and lines up his shot. “Well instead of going to the bathroom 10 minutes later to do the same thing, you could’ve just said something.”

Jake doesn’t reply, but the way his body stiffens tells you what you need to know.

“That’s what I thought,” Bradley murmurs. His smirk turns to a frown when he takes his beer back that’s now only half full.

Penny catches your eye and back behind the bar you go.

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Even though you don’t hear the rest of the conversation, they both leave shortly after with a bullshit excuse about an early morning hop.

Like that’s ever stopped either of them before.

A few days go by with radio silence. Which is unusual despite the casual situationship you’re in with them both. At least you keep telling yourself it’s casual.

Both Jake and Bradley have made it abundantly clear that they want more from you, but you keep using the excuse that you’re not looking for anything serious right now.

But the truth is, you can’t choose between them.

And how could you? Bradley’s charming, funny, and easy-going nature puts you at ease. His cool confidence carries into the bedroom too, the way he coaxes orgasm after orgasm from your body with his dirty words, his talented tongue, his big hands, and bigger cock…

Then there’s Jake. Sure, he’s a cocky asshole, but that’s the thing you lov-like most about him. The way he teases, overstimulates, pushes your body to the limits, and makes you beg is addicting in itself. But in the quiet after, his well hidden sweet, vulnerable side is revealed with murmured praises and sweet kisses to your trembling skin as he wraps his body around yours.

You don’t reach out either and a full week goes by before you see either of them again.

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“Hey sweetheart,” the sound of Bradley’s voice from behind makes your heart flutter.

“Hey,” you turn, feigning nonchalance as you wipe down the bar, “Long time no see.”

I’ve missed you.

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting on one of the stools, “it’s been crazy at work.”

“Oh,” you fill a glass with what’s on tap and set it down in front of him, “figured you were avoiding me.”

“Now why would I be avoiding you?” He smiles before he brings the bottle to his lips, eyes twinkling.

“You know why,” you lean over the bar, giving him a nice view of your pushed-up breasts down your shirt as you clean the wood in front of him, “You agreed to No Nut November, didn’t you?”

He’s licking the foam from his mustache, eyes locked on your chest when you straighten, “Huh?”

“You and Jake are doing No Nut November, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he snaps out of it, giving you a sheepish look, “not the best idea in hindsight.”

“Not really,” you agree, brushing your fingers over his, “I’ve been lonely without you, Roo.”

He exhales shakily at that, giving you a heated look at the name you call him only in bed.

“And it’s only…” you look at the calendar, “November 10th.”

“I know,” he looks pained, “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart, I swear.”

“Yeah, for a whole 30 seconds,” you say sarcastically, “can’t wait.”

“Really?” He deadpans, and you have to bite your lip to keep from laughing, “When have I ever gotten off before you did? The first time doesn’t count.”

That does make you laugh. He’d chased you for months and was excited, a little too excited the first time you finally let him in your pants. But he’d dropped to his knees after and definitely made up for being quick on the draw.

Just the thought of him looking up at you between your thighs with those honey-brown eyes nearly makes you whimper.

“You’re right,” you smile, “other than the first time, you’ve never gotten off before me.”

He smirks as he brings the glass up to his lips again.

“I suppose it’s not like I can’t get myself off either,” you sigh again, “it’s just not the same though. My fingers don’t fill me up the way you do.”

“Fuck sweetheart,” he sputters, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“But it’s true,” you shrug before leaning in to whisper, relishing in the way he tenses, “I ordered that bigger plug we talked about. It came in the mail yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” He croaks, tilting his head to ghost his lips over your jaw.

He’s been obsessed with your ass since he first saw you. You brought up trying anal after he played with your ass during doggy and it’s something the two of you have been working towards.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I wanted to try it out with you, but I don’t think I can wait that long. I need you, Roo. My fingers, toys…nothing compares to the way your cock feels.”

“Jesus,” he breathes, rising suddenly, “I-I gotta go.”

Your eyes drop and your mouth waters when he reaches for his wallet; his cock is straining against the tight denim.

“I’m sorry,” he grimaces as he throws a 20 on the bar before backing away, “I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” you shrug as if you couldn’t care less, but your heart races.

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Jake shows up 2 nights later and you barely spare him a glance.

This whole thing is his fault, after all.

He finds you doing inventory in the storage room when there’s a lull in service.

“You mad at me?” He asks, moving your hair aside to kiss the weak spot below your ear.

“No,” you try to keep your voice steady, “I love not hearing from or seeing you for over a week.”

Shit.

You cringe, kicking yourself for letting him see you vulnerable.

He pauses, but only for a moment. “I’m sorry, I’ve been busy with work.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, bending over suddenly to check the bottles of liquor on the lowest shelf, “Me too.”

The new position pushes your ass into Jake’s crotch and his hands instinctively reach for your hips.

“What are you doin’ honey?” He grits out, pulling you back to feel every hard inch of him, “‘sides playing with fire?”

His Texas twang comes out when he’s turned on but you suppress the shiver it brings.

“Inventory,” you reply, straightening to write the number down.

“I miss you,” he whispers, making your heart skip a beat, “and I don’t mean just this,” he finds the sweet spot on your neck again. “But I can’t seem to keep my hands,” his fingers dig into your hips as he ruts against your ass, “or my cock to myself when you’re around.”

“So don’t,” you murmur, turning your head to brush your lips over his, “Please Jake?”

I miss you too.

“I…can’t,” he sighs regretfully, squeezing your hips once more before taking a step back, “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

“Let me guess, you’ll make it up to me when November’s over?” Your eyes narrow as you face him, crossing your arms.

He cringes. “Well…yeah.”

You sigh. “Not sure if I’ll even need you anymore, I’m getting pretty used to my vibrator.”

He backs you up against the shelving and cages you in with his arms. “Does your toy fill you up the way I can?” He emphasizes his question with a roll of his hips. “Does it make you cum over and over until you’re trembling and tears fill your pretty eyes? Do you have to beg? Say ‘please’ for it to stop?”

“No,” your answer is soft and breathy. His eyes dip to your lips as you lean in, “but it doesn’t neglect me for a month over a stupid competition either.”

You duck under his arm and try not to laugh at his heavy sigh as you walk away.

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Another week goes by. Bradley calls once and they each text randomly but keep things PG, not taking the bait when you send suggestive ones back either. Or send dirty pictures. Jake just sent you a 🖕🏻 in response to the picture of your hand down the front of your panties and Bradley left you on read when you sent him a photo of your lace-clad bottom, holding the new plug.

No Nut November is more than halfway over but you’re completely over it.

While the night before Thanksgiving is one of the busiest of the year, you took off to finish preparing for the holiday. You’re hosting the Daggers who aren’t going home or don’t have anyone to go home to.

Everything is good to go a little after 9. With a sigh, you begin to pull the apron over your head but pause with an idea.

Wearing nothing but the apron, you take a picture of your reflection; nipples just visible and your hand running up your inner thigh.

You: Everything’s ready for tomorrow. Wanna come over for a taste test?

Next, you turn around, capturing your bare ass and an innocent look.

You: Too bad the turkey is the only thing getting stuffed tonight.

With a sigh you hop in the shower, not realizing you sent the pictures to them both.

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There’s a knock at the front door as you flick off the water.

“Just a second!” You call, wrapping your towel around you tightly.

“It’s Jake,” he calls back, muffled.

“Come in,” you reply. He knows where the spare is, but still knocks out of respect. “I’m just getting out of the shower.”

“What’s up?” You ask as you come out of the bathroom, the pictures already forgotten.

Jake’s leaning against the wall across, waiting.

“I’m here for that taste test,” he hungrily looks over your bare legs as he pushes off the wall.

“What about the bet?” Your breath catches as he weaves his hands into your hair.

“It’s still on,” he answers before capturing your lips in a dizzying kiss.

“But…” you start when he pulls off your lips to find your neck instead, “What are-“

“I’ll take a cold shower after,” he murmurs against the sensitive skin, making you shiver. “I can’t spend another night without yo-making you feel good.”

Your heart stutters at his Freudian slip.

“Okay,” you whisper, leaning back in. Your legs wrap around his waist when he grabs your bare ass and lifts, carrying you into your room before laying you down on the bed, your phone digging into your back.

He rips the towel open as you reach for the phone, tossing it aside without a glance…or noticing that you hit the call button.

“Oh Jake,” you moan loudly, drowning out the sound of Bradley picking up when he doesn’t hesitate to devour you like the starved man he is. Your hands find his hair as he tongues your cunt and tug when he hones in on your clit.

“I’ve missed this sweet pussy,” he sounds as wrecked as you feel as he brings his hand up, pushing two fingers inside you, his hips slowly rutting against the bed, “dreamed about it every fucking night and woke up hard and wanting you every morning.”

“Y-oh,” a needy whine escapes as he curls his fingers against your g-spot, “you poor thing.”

He pulls his fingers out to slap your clit, making you gasp, clenching around nothing. “Don’t be a brat.”

“You could’ve had me,” your fingers tighten in his hair before pulling him back in, “this was your idea.”

Your eyes fall closed and he groans when he puts his mouth on you again. “Stupid fuckin’ idea.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree, panting. “You’re never doing it again. I won’t allow it.”

“What about Roo?”

Your eyes fly open to see him smirking. “W-what about him?”

“Is he allowed to do it again?” He licks a long, slow stripe through your arousal as he waits for your answer.

You swallow thickly, before slowly shaking your head. “Nope.”

He arches his brow but doesn’t reply, instead doubling his efforts. You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when his tongue slides up to your clit, circling while he pushes his fingers back inside you.

“Yeah,” you whine, tugging his hair and grinding against his face, “that’s-that’s good. Just like that, Jake. Keep going, I’m close.”

Jake just moans as you use him. His hips rutting harder but his mouth and fingers keep the same, sweet rhythm until you’re teetering on the edge of release.

But then he gently sucks your clit into his mouth and that’s all it takes to push you over. Your hands pull his hair as your back arches, legs wrapping around his head as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

A low, guttural groan is ripped from his throat as you writhe against him, the sight, the taste and the sounds of your release proving to be too much.

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his head on your trembling thigh with a grimace, “I just lost.”

“You lo-what?” The ability to think straight left when the first brush of his tongue.

“I just came in my fuckin’ pants,” he sighs, his arms shaking as he lifts himself to his knees. Your eyes drop to the wet spot staining his jeans, “I lost.”

A breathy laugh escapes as your toes run over his still semi-hard cock, “Sorry?”

“No you’re not,” he sighs, his eyes darkening, “but you will be.”

The air is pushed from your lungs as he flips you onto your stomach, slapping your ass so hard tears spring to your eyes.

“Hey!” You scrabble to get away from the assault but his hand between your shoulders pushes you back down, “It’s not my fault! I didn’t even touch you!”

“You didn’t,” he agrees, slapping the other ass cheek equally as hard, “but you did tease me at the bar, and send me dirty pictures and-“

“I won’t tell Roo if you won’t!” You rush out when his hand leaves your ass presumably to spank you again.

“It’s a little late for that.”

Both of your heads whip toward your bedroom door where Bradley’s standing, clad in that gaudy Hawaiian print he wears so well, his erection obvious against the confines of the tight-as-sin jeans.

He also knows where your spare is.

His eyes rake over your naked body, smirking as he holds his phone up for the both of you to see. The color leaves your face as you see your name reflected on the screen.

He’s been listening the whole time.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed part 1! Part 2 should be along in the next few days. Spoiler: the turkey is NOT the only thing getting stuffed 😉

Tagging a few I think may be interested:

@callsigns-haze

@writtingrose

@blindedbythelightt

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@dizzybee03

@shanimallina87

@lexixstewart

@hookslove1592

@jessicab1991

@livzblog

@carolina-on-my-mind03

@racerchix21

@that-one-fangirl69

@mrsbradshaw-seresin01

@sydneejean

@xoxabs88xox

@midnightmagpiemama

@its-the-pilot

@kmc1989

@psuedochakra

@fandomology101

@kneelforloki

@djs8891

@mavrellover91

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@seitmai

@emerald-jade1

@alwayshave-faith

@thespillingvoid

@glenpowellluver

@lunatygerqueen

@bigstrongpowellheart

@ahotmesswithprivilege

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

OHMYGOOOOOOD

Thank God this wasn't as sad as the others 😭 I needed a break from crying.

"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness.

The way I almost screamed bc IT IS FATE ����🩷

Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Istg when I read this I was so sure y/n would end up with a bullet between her eyes, that's how scared I am😂

You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.”

Logan being the ultimate stray😅🤭 she's always drawn to him

Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”

This was so precious to me!! Logan playing cards with y/n and her friends ❤️

“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”

“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.

This has so many meanings, not only flirting but I can imagine after over 100 years loving and losing the same person over and over, that would definitely drive him crazy

You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.

MY HEART ACHED💔💔💔💔

The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.

Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him.

Omfg I've never seen them so passionate it's making me feel things 😮‍💨 the smut was perfect balance of passion and desperation

And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.

Screaming crying throwing up 😭🥺🥺🥺 bc I desperately need to see when he proposes but I can't even imagine how it would go

You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.

This might be one of the best dialogues I've read, bc it's so true 🥺 for decades this man has tried everything in his power to cherish and protect the love of his life, she's the only one that brings out a resemblance of peace on him😭💔

Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.

Forever obsessed with this story and the way he will do anything to help and adore y/n❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 1973 - we meet again my dear...

chapter summary: After leaving Team X behind, Logan finds himself back in New York City working as a bodyguard for various people. Until he finds himself acting as a bodyguard for you, a mobster's daughter.

word count: 18.3k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm a sucker for the bodyguard trope (and also just dofp logan in general, that man makes me go feral), so you know i had to do it when given the chance! i had so much fun writing this version of reader, especially because this is the closest to 'modern' times that we've gotten and i didn't have to do a ton of research about this year. the tags might give away a little bit of the plot, but i promise it's gonna be a fun ride ;)

warnings/tags: fluff, angst, 70s!logan, mafia/mob, implied age gap, flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected piv, creampie, arranged marriage

series masterlist - chapter 4 → chapter 6

He left Stryker, Victor, and Team X behind, settling in New York City as a bodyguard, hired by various people: politicians, the mafia, anyone.

Logan was now getting his fifth job, protecting a mobster’s young daughter.

He was used to jobs like this by now, but something about this one felt... different. As he walked through the large estate, the details blurred around him. His focus was on the job—until the moment he saw you.

You were standing by the window, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your face. There was something familiar about the way you held yourself, the way your hair fell over your shoulders. For a second, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room.

Logan’s chest tightened.

It was you.

Same face. Same presence. Same pull that had haunted him for over a century.

But you were different, too. This time, you weren’t a schoolteacher, a nurse, or a coal miner’s wife. You were his new job.

You turned, eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, it felt like you recognized him too. That sense of familiarity flickered across your face before you smiled—polite, but distant.

“Y/N, this is Logan,” the mobster—your father—introduced. “He’ll be your new bodyguard.”

Your father’s voice faded into the background as Logan’s gaze remained locked on you. You gave a small nod, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you, Logan.”

Logan stared at your hand for a beat too long before taking it. That brief contact sent a shock through him, an old memory he couldn’t quite shake.

“Likewise,” he muttered, his voice rougher than he intended.

Your father clapped Logan on the back. “I expect you’ll keep her safe. There’s been some... tension with a rival family.”

Logan only nodded, but his attention stayed on you. You were right in front of him, alive. But you didn’t know him. Like always.

After your father left the room, you leaned against the window frame, crossing your arms. “So, how long have you been doing this?” you asked, your tone casual.

Logan leaned against the wall, watching you closely. “Long enough.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “That’s vague.”

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, silence settled between you two. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was something unsaid hanging in the air.

“What about you?” Logan asked, more to fill the space than out of curiosity. “How do you feel about having a bodyguard?”

You shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

That earned a faint, almost imperceptible smile from Logan, but he quickly covered it with a grunt. “Glad to hear it.”

A pause. Then you looked at him, your eyes narrowing slightly, like you were trying to figure him out. “You seem... familiar.”

Logan stiffened. “Don’t think we’ve met before.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “No, but... I don’t know. Something about you.”

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral. He couldn’t tell you. Not about the past lives, not about how many times he had watched you die.

You shrugged it off, smiling again. “Maybe I’m just imagining things.”

“Maybe,” Logan muttered, not meeting your eyes this time.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions, schedules, and instructions from your father. Logan followed at a distance, keeping an eye on you, but his mind was elsewhere.

That night, Logan sat on the balcony just outside your room, staring out at the city lights. His thoughts raced, the weight of the engagement ring in his pocket feeling heavier than usual.

You were alive. Again.

But for how long this time?

---

You plopped onto your bed, the wire from your rotary phone stretching with you, “he is good looking though.”

You could practically hear Jennifer’s grin through the phone, “oh, yeah? Man, all your bodyguards are good looking. It’s not fair!”

You laughed, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "He’s… different though. I can’t quite put my finger on it. He’s quiet, but not in the usual 'I’m-paid-to-watch-you' way."

"Is he mysterious?" Jennifer teased, her voice light. "Maybe he’s got some dark, brooding backstory. Mob families always hire guys like that—‘strong and silent.’"

You snorted. "Maybe. But he’s not like the others." You hesitated, leaning back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “There’s something familiar about him… like I’ve met him before.”

Jennifer paused on the other end of the line, then her voice softened. "You think he’s one of your dad’s guys from back in the day?"

You shook your head, even though she couldn’t see it. "No, it’s not that. It’s… weird, Jen. Like I know him, but I don’t. It’s been bugging me since I met him."

"Maybe it’s fate," she joked, but her tone had a hint of seriousness. "You’ve been going through bodyguards like they’re tissues. Maybe this one’s here to stick around."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Fate? You’ve been reading too many romance novels."

"Hey, a girl can dream!" Jennifer laughed. "But seriously, if you feel something, maybe it’s worth looking into. He’s hot, right?"

You smiled at that, though your thoughts wandered back to Logan. The way his eyes lingered on you, like he was seeing something no one else could. "Yeah," you admitted softly. "He’s definitely that. He’s probably as old as my dad or somethin’. But man, Jen, if you saw him you’d lose your mind.”

You twirled the phone cord around your finger, still smiling to yourself, but your thoughts kept circling back to Logan. Something about the way he looked at you—like he knew more than he was saying—stuck with you. It wasn’t creepy or overprotective. It was... familiar. Comforting, even.

Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Hey, don’t overthink it, okay? Enjoy the view for once. Not everyone gets a hot bodyguard with a mysterious vibe. Maybe he’s the silver lining to your dad’s whole ‘paranoia’ problem.”

You laughed quietly. “Yeah, maybe.”

You hung up not long after, still feeling the weight of that odd, lingering sense of déjà vu.

---

The next morning, Logan was waiting for you downstairs. Dressed in his usual dark clothes, he stood near the front door with his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but alert. His eyes flicked toward you the second you entered the room.

There it was again—that heavy gaze that made it feel like he could see right through you.

“Mornin’,” you said, offering a small smile.

“Mornin’,” Logan replied, his voice gravelly.

Your father wasn’t home—out dealing with ‘business’—which gave you a rare moment to yourself. Well, mostly. You slipped on your leather jacket and glanced at Logan, your lips quirking up in a teasing grin. “What’s the plan, bodyguard? Gonna follow me around all day?”

Logan grunted, something close to amusement flashing in his eyes. “That’s the job.”

“You always this chatty?”

“Only when I meet interesting people.” His tone was dry, but there was the faintest flicker of a smile beneath it.

You snorted, heading for the door. “C’mon, hope you like running errands.”

Logan followed without complaint, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the car. The streets were quieter than usual, but the tension between rival families was palpable—something was brewing, and everyone knew it.

Still, Logan’s presence made you feel... safer. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was there. It was strange. You barely knew him, but being around him felt easy. Natural. Like you’d known him for a lot longer than a day.

---

When you said you were going to run ‘errands,’ Logan hadn’t expected you to walk straight into an animal shelter. He followed you through the entrance, nodding politely at the woman at the front desk as you greeted her like an old friend.

“Morning, Lorraine!” you said with a bright smile.

Lorraine, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled back. “There’s my favorite troublemaker. The pups will be glad to see you.” She cast a curious glance at Logan. “And who’s this?”

“My latest babysitter,” you said with a smirk, glancing at Logan. “Logan, meet Lorraine. Lorraine, Logan.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “Ma’am.”

Lorraine chuckled. “A man of few words. I like him already.” She waved you both toward the back. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for you.”

As soon as you walked past the front desk and entered the back area, the sound of excited barking filled the air. Dogs of all sizes pressed their noses against the bars of their cages, tails wagging furiously at the sight of you.

You crouched down in front of one of the kennels, talking softly to a scruffy little mutt as it whined and pawed at the bars. “Hey, buddy. Miss me?”

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the way you scratched behind the dog's ears. There was something easy about the way you moved here, something soft. For a mobster’s kid, you had a surprisingly gentle touch.

"Didn't expect this to be part of the job," Logan muttered after a moment, his voice low but teasing.

You glanced up, grinning. "What, thought I’d be shopping for fur coats or shaking people down for cash?"

Logan raised a brow. "Somethin’ like that."

You laughed, standing up and dusting your hands off. “Sorry to disappoint. I’ve got a weakness for strays.” You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small bag of treats, tossing some into the kennels. "These guys have it rough enough without me skipping out on them."

Logan watched as the dogs practically fought over the treats, barking happily at your attention. You moved from cage to cage, giving each dog a little affection. It was... unexpected.

Logan watched you toss the last treat into one of the kennels, the scruffy mutt practically vibrating with happiness. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes as you turned and dusted your hands off with a grin.

"You’re full of surprises," Logan muttered.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you folded your arms. “Oh, yeah? Disappointed?”

"Not exactly." His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

You took a step closer, tilting your head. "Well, what did you expect?"

Logan shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. "Spoiled. Entitled. Maybe a little dangerous."

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and Logan’s chest tightened in a way that felt too familiar. "Dangerous, huh? Guess I’ve got some layers." You gave him a playful once-over. "What about you? Big, scary bodyguard with a brooding vibe. Got any surprises I should know about?"

Logan snorted. "Not really."

You narrowed your eyes like you didn’t quite believe him, but instead of pressing, you motioned toward the door. "C’mon. I’ve got one more stop."

Logan fell into step beside you as you exited the shelter and made your way toward the car. You chatted casually, filling the silence with stories about your favorite dogs at the shelter. But Logan stayed mostly quiet, his mind racing. It wasn’t just your voice—it was you. The way you carried yourself, the way you teased him like it was second nature.

He stole a glance at you as you drove. God, it felt the same as always. Like gravity pulled him toward you whether he wanted it or not.

---

Logan should’ve expected the second time around that you weren’t taking him to a normal place for errands. He was even more surprised when you parked in a nursing home parking lot and got out with that same pep in your step.

The sliding doors opened as you walked up to the front counter, where a middle-aged woman with tired eyes peered over the top of a blocky computer monitor. Her name tag read Carol.

“Morning, Carol,” you chirped with an easy smile, tapping your fingers on the desk.

Carol looked up and brightened at the sight of you. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite visitor. Here to cheer up the old-timers again?”

“Always,” you said, flashing a grin. “And I brought backup today.” You gestured behind you to Logan, who gave a brief nod.

Carol gave him a once-over and arched an eyebrow. “Well now, you didn’t tell me you’d be bringing a tall drink of water.”

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder at Logan. “Yeah, figured I’d mix things up.”

Logan just grunted in response, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly—half amusement, half something else. Carol winked at you before waving toward the hallway. “You know where to find them.”

You led Logan down the hall, your steps light and familiar as if you'd been coming here for years. He followed quietly, his sharp gaze flicking between doorways and hallways, always alert.

“You spend a lot of time here?” Logan asked as you slowed near a door marked Activity Room.

You shrugged. “Yeah. Most of these folks don’t get many visitors. It’s nice to stop by and remind them they’re not forgotten.”

Logan gave a small grunt of acknowledgment. It was such a simple thing—volunteering at a nursing home—but it hit him hard. It was just like you to find the overlooked parts of the world and give them your attention, like the dogs at the shelter, like the people here. You always had that streak of kindness, no matter which life you were living.

You nudged open the door, stepping into the room. A group of residents sat in mismatched chairs, some knitting, others half-watching a daytime soap on an old television. At the sight of you, faces lit up.

“There she is!” one of the older women called, setting her knitting aside with a delighted clap of her hands. “I thought you forgot about us!”

“As if I ever could,” you replied warmly, walking over to give her a light hug.

Logan lingered near the doorway, watching as you moved through the room like you belonged there, chatting with each resident, asking about their week, their families—if they remembered them. His heart twisted, both with admiration and an ache that wouldn’t quit.

You noticed him standing off to the side and shot him a teasing grin. “Don’t be shy, Logan. They won’t bite.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about them.”

You laughed, turning back to an older man with a deck of cards spread out in front of him. “Logan, meet Mr. Russo. He’s got a mean poker face.”

Mr. Russo gave Logan a once-over, then grinned, his false teeth gleaming. “You any good at cards, tough guy?”

Logan shrugged. “I can hold my own.”

You slid into the chair beside Mr. Russo, motioning for Logan to join you. “Care to test your luck?”

Logan hesitated for only a moment before pulling out a chair, the legs scraping against the linoleum. As he sat down, you dealt him a hand, your fingers brushing his in the process—a fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt of familiarity through both of you.

You caught Logan’s gaze over the cards, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. There it was again—that sense that you knew him somehow, though you couldn’t quite place it. It nagged at you, but you let it pass, offering him a playful smirk instead.

“Careful,” you warned. “I don’t go easy on anyone.”

Logan returned the smirk, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Neither do I.”

---

After the game, which you won—barely, you said your goodbyes to the residents, promising to visit again soon. Logan followed silently as you made your way back to the car, the soft clinking of your keys the only sound between you.

“Not what you expected for today, huh?” you asked as you slid into the driver’s seat.

Logan leaned against the car door, arms crossed. “Not exactly.”

You smiled, starting the engine. “Bet you thought being a mobster’s kid would be more... glamorous.”

“Something like that.” He gave you a sidelong glance. “You like keeping people guessing, don’t you?”

You grinned, shifting the car into drive. “It’s one of my many talents.”

The two of you drove in companionable silence, the hum of the city filling the space between you. Logan rested his elbow on the window frame, glancing at you every so often. You were like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve—different from the others, yet still unmistakably you.

“Why do you do it?” he asked after a while. “The shelter, the nursing home. You don’t have to.”

You shrugged, your expression thoughtful. "Dunno. Just because I was born into this life doesn’t mean I like what my dad does. I guess sometimes I feel like I’m tryin’ to balance the scales."

Logan leaned back against the seat, his sharp gaze on you, but he didn’t respond right away. You could tell he was chewing on that—probably picking apart your words, trying to figure you out. He always seemed like the kind of man who noticed everything, even if he didn’t say much about it.

You flashed him a teasing grin, trying to lighten the mood. "What about you? Any skeletons in the closet? Or are you just a man of mystery with perfect timing?"

Logan snorted softly, his lips twitching in that almost-smile he had. "I’m no mystery. Just do my job."

"Oh, come on," you pressed, throwing him a playful look. "You gotta give me something. Favorite food? Ever been married? Deep, dark secret?"

He gave you a sidelong glance, amused but guarded. "Steak. No. And not a chance."

You huffed in mock disappointment, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. "You’re no fun, Logan."

"Never said I was," he muttered, but there was warmth in his tone, like he didn’t mind your teasing at all.

The conversation paused for a moment, the soft hum of the engine filling the space between you. Logan’s eyes lingered on you a little longer than they probably should have—taking in the curve of your smile, the way your fingers tapped a rhythm on the wheel.

And damn, if you didn’t make it hard to stay detached. You were so... alive. Every glance, every smile, every little laugh. You carried yourself like someone who knew how fleeting things could be—and even though Logan knew you couldn’t remember, he remembered every time you’d slipped through his fingers. That thought settled heavy in his chest, like a weight he carried everywhere.

You shot him a grin. "You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna think you’re interested."

Logan’s lips twitched. "What makes you think I’m not?"

The boldness of his response caught you off guard for a second, but you recovered quickly, leaning a little closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Careful, tough guy. You’re supposed to be protecting me, not flirting with me."

"Who says I can’t do both?" His voice was low, rough, and it sent a small shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. "I think my dad might disagree."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, though his expression didn’t change. "Your dad’s not here."

There it was—that pull again, the quiet, unspoken gravity between the two of you. It was like standing on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling all at once. You felt it in the way his gaze lingered, in the weight of his words. He wasn’t just playing along.

You cleared your throat, breaking the tension with a teasing smile. "Well, if you’re planning on making a move, Logan, you better make it good. I’ve got high standards, y’know."

Logan let out a low chuckle—quiet, but genuine—and for a moment, you thought you saw something softer in his eyes. Something like... affection.

But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar guarded expression.

"Noted," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the road ahead.

You grinned, satisfied that you’d managed to chip away at his walls, even if only a little.

---

The two of you finished your errands without any trouble, stopping by a grocery store for some essentials and grabbing a late lunch at a small diner tucked away from the main streets. It wasn’t much—just burgers and fries—but sitting across from Logan in the booth, you felt surprisingly content.

He was quiet most of the time, but not in a way that felt awkward. It was... comfortable. Like he didn’t need to fill the silence just for the sake of it. And every now and then, he’d throw out a dry, sarcastic comment that made you laugh harder than you expected.

You leaned back in the booth, sipping your soda and watching him over the rim of your glass. "Y’know, Logan... you’re not half as scary as you look."

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Disappointed?"

"Not at all," you replied, your smile turning a little softer. "I like surprises."

He held your gaze for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind those sharp blue eyes. And for a second—just a second—you thought maybe, just maybe, there was something familiar about the way he looked at you. Like you were more than just a job to him.

But before you could dwell on it, Logan glanced at his watch and cleared his throat. "We should head back. Your old man’ll be expecting you."

You sighed dramatically, sliding out of the booth. "Guess my fun’s over."

Logan chuckled, tossing a few bills on the table for the check. "For now."

You gave him a playful nudge as you walked past him toward the door. "Don’t sound too excited."

---

By the time you got back to the house, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting the streets in a soft orange glow. Logan followed you inside, his quiet presence grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

"Thanks for today," you said, tossing your jacket onto a chair.

Logan gave a small nod, leaning against the wall near the door. "No problem."

You hesitated for a moment, then shot him one last grin. "You know, you’re not as bad as I thought."

"Same to you," he replied, that almost-smile creeping back onto his face.

And just like that, the unspoken connection between you simmered beneath the surface, waiting.

Maybe Logan was right. Maybe your dad would be pissed if he knew how much you enjoyed your new bodyguard’s company.

But standing there, watching Logan’s gaze linger on you for just a beat too long, you found you didn’t care all that much.

"Goodnight, Logan," you said softly, turning toward the stairs.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he replied, his voice low and steady.

And as you climbed the stairs, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the first time you’d said goodnight to him like this.

Not by a long shot.

---

Your dad told you not to leave the house today, which was fine by you, you had laundry to do anyways.

It had become habit to do your own laundry, even if you did have maids around the house. Nancy, one of the older maids, was the one to teach you that, along with cooking and cleaning since your mother has been gone since you were little.

You had a radio set on the washer, the familiar croon of 70s tunes filling the small laundry room as you pulled warm clothes from the dryer into a basket. You’d been at it for the better part of the morning, the simple domestic task giving you a sense of normalcy. The soft hum of the machines, the crackling radio, and the scent of clean laundry— it was all routine.

Routine helped keep your mind off the storm brewing outside your little bubble.

You sighed, swaying your hips a bit to the music as you lifted the basket. The house felt quieter today, with your dad off dealing with ‘business’ as usual. And Logan? He was somewhere nearby, probably lurking in the shadows like the brooding protector he was.

As if on cue, Logan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He was dressed in his usual dark clothing, looking as stoic as ever. You wondered if he ever wore anything other than flannels and a leather jacket.

"You know, I didn’t take you for the laundry-doing type," he remarked, his gravelly voice cutting through the music.

You raised an eyebrow, throwing a playful glance over your shoulder. "What, you think I’m too spoiled to do my own chores?"

Logan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Something like that."

You smirked, grabbing the laundry basket and turning to face him. "I like to surprise people."

"You’re good at it," he replied, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual. There was something behind those eyes, something deeper, but as always, he kept it hidden beneath that calm, impenetrable exterior.

You tilted your head, leaning your hip against the dryer. "You sticking around or just checking on me?"

Logan shrugged, though his eyes never left yours. "Just making sure you're not running off anywhere. Your dad was pretty clear about staying put."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips softened the gesture. "I’ll be a good girl. Promise."

Logan grunted in response, pushing off the doorframe and walking closer. "You’re a lot of things, Y/N. Not sure ‘good girl’ is one of them."

You let out a laugh, swatting at him with a towel. "Hey, I can behave when I want to. It’s just more fun not to."

He caught your wrist with ease, holding it for a second too long before letting go. There was that familiar tension between you again, the unspoken something that crackled in the air whenever the two of you were close. He probably didn't mean to linger, but you could feel it—that pull.

"Maybe it’s the company," you teased, grabbing your laundry basket. "You bring out the best in me."

Logan didn’t respond immediately, but there was something in his eyes, something that made your breath hitch. He was quiet, but not in the usual way bodyguards were. With Logan, there was a weight to his silence, like he was always holding back, always watching.

You pushed past the lingering tension with a grin, heading toward the door with your laundry. "Come on, broody. Let’s get out of the laundry room before we both go stir-crazy."

As you passed by, you brushed against him—just lightly, but enough to send a small jolt through you. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed your every step, that silent intensity never wavering.

You stopped in the hallway and shot him a look over your shoulder. “You’re making this way too serious, you know. I’m doing laundry, not sneaking out of prison.”

“Old habits die hard,” he replied, crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “Besides, I think your dad’s idea of ‘safe’ is pretty different from yours.”

You rolled your eyes, hugging the laundry basket closer. “Right. Next, he’ll say I need an escort to the mailbox.”

Logan raised a brow, clearly amused. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

That earned him a laugh, and you shook your head, settling the basket on the table in the hall. “Guess you’re stuck with me then, bodyguard.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad,” he said, his voice softening as he glanced at you. His gaze was familiar in a way you couldn’t place, like he’d looked at you this way a hundred times before.

“Yeah?” You took a step closer, crossing your arms with a playful grin. “And here I thought I’d be driving you crazy.”

“You do,” he murmured, almost too quietly. His lips turned up slightly, but he looked away, that unspoken wall going back up.

“Good,” you teased, reaching out to poke him in the chest. “Keeps things interesting.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, holding it just long enough that you could feel the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in it. There was something in his eyes that hinted at… more. Like he’d known you far longer than you could’ve ever guessed.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thumped, but you kept your tone light. “Depends on what you’re offering, doesn’t it?”

His gaze dropped to your hand, still caught in his. He let go, but there was something in his expression that lingered. It was like he was searching for the right words, something he couldn’t quite say. Or maybe didn’t want to.

Instead, he settled back with that guarded look. “Better get used to me being around,” he said, nodding toward the front of the house. “Your dad won’t have it any other way.”

You glanced down the hall and shrugged. “Guess I can live with that. For now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, just barely. “For now,” he echoed, and there was something heavier in those words, something he wasn’t sharing.

You lingered for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before you picked up the basket again. “Well, I’ve got more laundry to fold. But if you feel like helping out…”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nice try, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, shooting him a wink. “Fine. I’ll let you off easy this time.”

“Appreciate it,” he said with a smirk, but his eyes softened as he watched you turn to go, like he was holding back something he couldn’t quite name.

As you walked away, the light-heartedness of the moment stayed with you, but so did something else. It was that look Logan had, the one that made you feel seen, like he knew you better than anyone else ever had.

Maybe he did.

Or maybe, in some impossible way, he always had.

---

“No, no, no, cara. Give it to me.” Nancy took the mixing bowl away from you, stirring the batter while muttering something in Italian.

You leaned your hip against the counter, placing your head on Nancy’s shoulder with a pout. "I was doing what you’re doing.”

Nancy shook her head, stirring the batter with a practiced hand, her warm, familiar presence comforting. “No, cara mia, you were doing what you think I’m doing.” She shot you a look, one of those fond, chiding glances she’d perfected over the years. “And it was not the same.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Fine, but you’re teaching me bad habits. This is how I stay spoiled, you know.”

She chuckled, patting your cheek affectionately. “You think you need me to be spoiled? You do just fine on your own.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the frame, watching you with a slight smirk that was becoming all too familiar—and endearing.

“Careful, Nancy,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s already hard enough to handle.”

You turned, hands on your hips, feigning offense. “Excuse me, hard to handle?”

Logan shrugged, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You said it, not me.”

Nancy chuckled, eyes sparkling as she looked between you and Logan. “Ah, Y/N, he’s right. You do have a little spirit.”

You scoffed playfully, giving Logan an exaggerated glare before grinning back at Nancy. “What? I’m an angel, and you know it.”

Logan snorted, clearly enjoying himself. “Right. A real saint.” He gave you a knowing look, one that made your stomach flip despite yourself. That unspoken energy simmered between you two, even as you tried to keep it casual.

Nancy just shook her head, muttering something in Italian as she set the bowl down. “Angels don’t cause so much trouble,” she teased, pinching your cheek. “I taught you better.”

You rubbed your cheek with a grin, leaning back against the counter. “I’m blaming Logan. His bad influence must be rubbing off on me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “That right? Thought you didn’t need any help there.”

“Oh, I don’t,” you said, crossing your arms with a challenging look. “I’m fully capable of trouble on my own.”

Nancy watched the two of you with a satisfied smile, turning back to her baking. “Ah, I see,” she murmured, her voice light. “It’s good to have someone who knows how to keep you in check.”

The glint in her eye wasn’t lost on you, and you rolled your eyes. “You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of wild child.”

“No, no,” she replied with a grin, waving her hand. “Just that I think he knows you better than you think, cara.”

Logan’s gaze softened a little at that, and though he didn’t say anything, his look lingered, as if he were silently agreeing with her.

You cleared your throat, feeling the familiar warmth creeping up your neck. “Well,” you started, trying to brush off the moment, “if Logan’s going to stick around, he might as well help.”

Nancy gave a sly smile, turning to Logan. “What do you say, Logan? A little kitchen work wouldn’t hurt.”

Logan shook his head, holding his hands up in surrender. “You two are doing just fine without me.”

You shot him a grin, taking a step closer. “Oh, come on. Big, tough Logan afraid of a little flour?”

His smirk softened as he looked down at you. “You keep pushing, and I might just teach you a lesson in troublemaking.”

Your stomach fluttered at the way his gaze stayed locked on yours, that familiar pull tugging you closer. “Is that a threat?”

“Call it… a warning,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand brushed against yours, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark up your arm.

Nancy cleared her throat, clearly amused. “Okay, okay. I don’t need you two making a mess of my kitchen.”

You stepped back, giving Nancy a sheepish smile, and Logan chuckled, the sound low and easy. “She’s right,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Guess I’ll just keep an eye on you from a safe distance.”

Nancy gave him a knowing look, shaking her head with a chuckle. “If only it were that simple.”

---

“Ah, stay still, cara.” Nancy chided you, taking out a roller from your hair.

You gave Nancy a pout, eyes skimming your reflection in the mirror with clear discontent. "I don’t like it." Your voice held more weight than just the hair and makeup, though, and Nancy seemed to pick up on it.

She clicked her tongue, smoothing out a curl before looking at you through the mirror. “Ah, cara mia, tonight is important to your father. Besides,” she added, eyes glinting, “you look beautiful, yes?”

You gave her a half-hearted smile, brushing your hands over the bright yellow fabric of your dress. The dress was elegant and too formal for your taste, the kind of thing you’d never have chosen if it weren’t for your dad’s insistence on making you ‘presentable’ for his associates.

Nancy sighed, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, it’s one night. Then you’ll be back to your regular clothes, hmm?”

You grinned, rolling your eyes. “Can’t come soon enough.”

Just as you were about to add more, there was a quiet knock at the door. You looked up, already expecting Logan’s familiar silhouette. He leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets, his usual air of calm doing little to hide the intense look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you in the dress.

“Looks like they’ve got you all dolled up,” he remarked, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You shot him a look, half annoyed, half amused. “Yeah, laugh it up, tough guy. Bet you’re glad it’s not you in this thing.”

Logan chuckled, stepping further into the room. “You could say that.” His eyes met yours, and for a brief second, there was something in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite put into words. But just as quickly, he looked away.

Nancy gave you a knowing smile, patting your shoulder before stepping back. “Logan,” she said, with a gentle warning in her voice, “take care of her tonight, yes?”

Logan’s expression softened, his gaze turning protective as he looked at you. “Always do.”

Nancy winked, then left the room, leaving you alone with him.

You let out a sigh, reaching for the hem of your dress as if you could somehow make it less constricting. “Do I really have to go down there?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You think your dad’s throwing this party for fun? Whole point is for you to be seen.”

“Great,” you muttered, moving toward the door. But as you passed him, Logan placed a hand on your shoulder, stopping you.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice lower, more reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything from you. Just show up, smile, let them know you exist.”

You looked up at him, searching his face. He was steady, calm, his expression soft in a way he rarely let others see. You didn’t know why, but having him there made you feel a little more at ease. “Guess I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Nope,” he replied, his mouth twitching into that almost-smile.

With a resigned sigh, you squared your shoulders. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

---

The party was everything you’d dreaded: formal, suffocating, and filled with people whose only interest in you was as your father’s daughter. You’d stuck close to Logan most of the night, exchanging quiet remarks whenever the chance arose, his presence the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. But as the night wore on, a few glasses of champagne and the tension of the evening started to wear on you.

You tugged on Logan’s sleeve as you leaned in close. “Think anyone would notice if I snuck out?” you murmured, your breath warm against his ear.

Logan chuckled low, his gaze flickering over you. “Considering your dad’s been watching you like a hawk? Probably.”

You rolled your eyes, letting your hand brush his arm. “Figures. He can’t just let me have one night off.” You shifted closer, feeling his warmth through his jacket, and gave him a mischievous smile. “Bet you didn’t sign up for babysitting duty.”

“Didn’t realize you’d need it,” he replied with a smirk, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

You nudged him playfully, letting your hand linger on his arm. “I don’t,” you said, a little more insistently. “You just don’t know what to do with me.”

His eyes met yours, and there was something dark and unspoken in his gaze. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “I might take you up on that.”

The hint of challenge in his tone sent a thrill through you, and you leaned closer, your hand settling on his chest as you whispered, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

You could feel his heartbeat, steady beneath your hand, but his expression gave nothing away. He looked down at you, his jaw tight, but his eyes held that familiar intensity, the kind that had always made you wonder just how long he’d been watching you. It was intoxicating, that pull between you, and tonight, with the champagne loosening your guard, you felt bolder than usual.

When you finally pulled away, you could feel his gaze following you, but you didn’t let yourself look back. Instead, you mingled through the crowd, smiling politely, pretending to listen to conversations while stealing glances at Logan across the room.

After what felt like hours, your father’s attention finally shifted, and you took the chance to slip away to your bedroom.

As you walked up the stairs, Logan trailed behind you, like always. You were tired of this, of the flirting, how he did it back to you, but how nothing ever happened.

Well tonight you were done with that.

You opened your bedroom door and sat on the bed, quickly slipping off your heels and tossing them carelessly across the room. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered up from downstairs, where the party raged on. Logan stood in the doorway, as he always did, watching you in that silent, intense way that had been driving you crazy for months.

You looked up at him, your fingers playing with the hem of your short yellow dress, the fabric brushing against your thighs as you shifted on the bed. “You comin’ in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his jaw ticking as his eyes flicked over you, taking in the sight of you sitting there, legs crossed, your dress riding up just enough to tease. He sighed, stepping into the room but staying near the door. “Your old man’s got half the city downstairs, Y/N. This ain’t the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Since when do you care about my dad? He’s not your boss.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket creaking. “He pays me to keep you safe, not… this.”

You stood up from the bed, taking a step toward him. “This?” you repeated, voice playful, but you could feel the tension in the air thickening. “And what is ‘this,’ Logan?”

He didn’t answer, just stood there, his eyes dark and unreadable, but you could see the way his body tensed when you got closer, the way his gaze flicked down to your legs before snapping back up to your face.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the rough material of his flannel, and you could feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric. He stiffened, his hand catching your wrist, but it wasn’t harsh. Just enough to stop you.

“Y/N, don’t,” he warned, his voice low, rough.

You tilted your head, stepping even closer until your body was almost pressed against his. “Why not?” you asked softly. “You’ve been following me around for months. Always there, always watching. What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” he muttered, but his grip on your wrist tightened just a little, like he was holding himself back. “You’re too young for this. I work for your dad.”

You pulled your wrist free, undeterred, your hand now resting against his chest. “I’m not a kid, Logan. And you don’t work for him—you work for me. You’ve been protecting me, haven’t you?”

His eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Then what do you mean?” you shot back, moving even closer, your fingers trailing up to his shoulder, over the leather of his jacket. “You’ve been pulling away from me every time I get close, but you keep coming back.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands hovering near your waist, as if he was afraid to touch you. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “And you know that.” You pressed a little harder, your lips just inches from his jaw, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You don’t have to keep pretending like you don’t want this.”

His hands shot up to your shoulders, gripping you tightly, but he didn’t push you away this time. His breathing was heavier now, the muscles in his arms tensing as if he was fighting against himself. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe not,” you admitted, your lips brushing the stubble on his jaw as you spoke. “But I know what I want.”

Logan groaned low in his throat, his fingers tightening on your shoulders, but still, he didn’t push you away. His resistance was crumbling, you could feel it.

“You’re not a kid,” he repeated quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

“No,” you whispered back, your lips ghosting along the side of his neck, your hands moving to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not.”

In a swift movement, you pushed him back toward the chair in the corner of the room, his legs hitting the edge as you guided him down. He sat heavily, his hands falling from your shoulders to your hips, still trying to hold onto that last bit of control.

You straddled his thigh, your dress riding up as you settled against him, the heat of your body pressed against the denim of his jeans. His hands moved up to your waist, holding you in place, but the look in his eyes told you he was barely holding on.

“Y/N,” he rasped, but his voice was shaky, uncertain.

You didn’t give him time to think. You started moving, rocking your hips against his thigh, slow at first, testing. His grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darkening as he watched you, the tension in his body radiating through his hands.

He wasn’t stopping you.

You bit your lip, your breath hitching as you pressed harder against him, the friction sending a jolt of heat through you. Logan groaned, his hands sliding down to your hips, holding you steady as you moved. His control was slipping, and you could feel it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against the chair, his eyes squeezed shut.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear. “Still think I’m too young?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping you harder as you rocked against him, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the thin material of your underwear. Every movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, and you could tell from the way his breathing quickened that he was feeling it too.

His hands slid up your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tried to pull you closer, but you were in control now. You pressed your lips to his neck, kissing the exposed skin, feeling the tension in his body as you kissed down toward his collarbone, your fingers tangling in his shirt.

Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter as you moved faster, grinding against his thigh with more urgency. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable now, the pressure building with every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

Logan's eyes were shut tight, head thrown back against the chair, his hands gripping your waist like he was the one trying to stay grounded. But you weren’t stopping, not after all the months of back-and-forth, all the moments you’d caught him watching you with that dark, unreadable look. The friction, the heat pooling between your legs, was everything you’d been waiting for, and it was clear from the roughness of his breathing that he wasn’t far behind.

You pressed harder, your hips rolling against his thigh as you gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. The thin fabric of your dress had ridden up, and you knew he could feel just how soaked you were through the denim of his jeans. His hands were at your waist, digging into your skin in a way that bordered on painful but only made you push down harder, rocking your hips with more insistence.

Logan’s voice was rough when he finally spoke, his hands tightening as if he was trying to keep himself from pulling you in closer. “Y/N… you’re playin’ with fire here,” he growled, the words thick, like he was barely holding back.

You ignored him, pressing a little harder, your lips hovering just over the edge of his jaw as you breathed, “Maybe I like the heat.”

His jaw clenched, but his hands slid up, settling just under your ribs, holding you steady as you moved. Each shift of your hips brought another groan out of him, the sound vibrating through his chest and sending a thrill straight through you. You could feel yourself getting closer, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the pressure built, the heat between your legs almost too much to bear.

“Logan,” you whispered, your hands slipping up to tangle in his hair, pulling his face closer. You could see the restraint etched across his face, the way his jaw was clenched tight, like he was struggling to keep himself from giving in. “I need you.”

His hands tensed on your waist, fingers digging in harder, his breathing growing rougher with every word that slipped from your lips. But he didn’t pull away; if anything, he held you tighter, letting you grind against him, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you in a way that left you breathless, desperate.

“You know what you’re doin’ to me?” he muttered, his voice barely more than a growl as his eyes met yours, dark and full of something you’d been longing to see for months.

“Maybe,” you replied, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips as you kept moving, kept pressing closer, feeling the tension between you both thicken until it was almost unbearable. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll let me go.”

Logan groaned, his grip tightening as his eyes fell shut again, his hands shifting to guide your hips, helping you keep up the steady rhythm that was driving you both closer to the edge. You leaned forward again, your lips brushing against his neck, pressing soft kisses along the exposed skin as you rocked against him, the heat building with every second.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice so low it sent a shiver through you. “You’re… you’re so damn—”

You cut him off, pressing your lips to the spot just under his ear, feeling the way his breath hitched as your hips ground down harder. You were close, every nerve ending on fire, and you could feel that he was, too. His hands were everywhere, sliding up your back, pressing you closer, holding you tight like he was afraid to let go.

And then, finally, the pressure broke. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders as your hips stilled, your body shuddering against him. Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his own breath hitching as he held you steady, his hands warm and solid as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

He was quiet for a long moment, his breathing heavy, and you could feel the way his body had tensed beneath you, the strain in his hands as he held himself back. Slowly, you looked up, meeting his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch all over again.

Without a word, Logan shifted, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs as he stood, lifting you with a strength that sent another thrill through you. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he carried you to the bed, the heat in his gaze leaving no room for second thoughts, no hesitation. This was it, and you were ready.

He laid you down, his hands lingering on your thighs, his fingers brushing over your skin as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of hunger and restraint. You reached up, tugging him closer until he was hovering over you, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel secure, safe.

This was what you’d been waiting for, what you’d both been skirting around for too long. Logan’s hands slid up your sides, his fingers trailing along the fabric of your dress, and you felt your breath hitch as his gaze darkened, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

His thumbs brushed the exposed skin just above the low neckline of your dress, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You watched him, eyes locked on his as he leaned in, his jaw tight, the hunger in his gaze barely restrained. The room felt smaller, warmer, like the air had thickened between you.

And then, finally, his mouth was on yours.

The kiss was desperate, wild, like he was making up for lost time. His lips claimed yours with a roughness that sent a shiver down your spine, his hands moving to cradle your face, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand the distance. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers finding their way into his hair, tugging him down harder.

It had been seventy-three years since he’d last kissed you—nearly three quarters of a century of holding back—and the intensity of it showed. It was all-consuming, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d denied himself this.

Logan groaned into your mouth, a deep, almost pained sound, and the desperation in it made your blood race. He kissed you like he was starving, like he needed this, needed you, and you felt your body melt into him. His hands slid down your body, rough and sure, stopping at your hips to pull you flush against him. The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, and the friction of his jeans against your thighs only made it worse.

You broke the kiss for air, your breaths coming fast, but Logan didn’t stop. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the curve of your throat, teeth scraping against your skin just enough to make you gasp. His hands were everywhere, tracing the curve of your waist, the swell of your hips, gripping you with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice breathless, needy. You tilted your head back, giving him better access as his lips continued their descent, leaving a path of fire along your skin. Your hands fisted in his flannel, pulling him closer, and he groaned again, the sound vibrating through your body.

“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, like he was barely holding on. His hands slipped under your dress, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you shivered, your breath catching in your throat. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, but the words were laced with something softer, something that made your heart skip.

You didn’t reply, just pulled him down for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the first. Your hands roamed over his chest, slipping beneath the open flannel to feel the heat of his skin, the hard muscles that tensed under your touch. Logan shivered, his breath catching as your fingers brushed against his bare chest, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the way he reacted to you.

His jacket slipped from his shoulders, landing somewhere on the floor, but neither of you paid it any mind. Your hands were already pushing the flannel off him, revealing more of his skin, and Logan helped you, shrugging it off with a growl of impatience. The white beater he wore beneath clung to his chest, and you could see the way his muscles flexed beneath it, the way the fabric stretched taut over his shoulders.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, and you moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. Logan’s hands were back under your dress, sliding up, leaving trails of heat in their wake. His touch was rough, calloused, but so incredibly gentle in a way that made your heart ache. You arched into him, your body pressing closer, desperate for more, for everything he was willing to give.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your mouth, his hands sliding higher until his thumbs brushed the edge of your panties. He paused, breathing heavily, his eyes searching yours, looking for any sign of hesitation. But there was none. You were all in, had been from the moment you’d first seen him.

You reached down, grabbing his wrists and guiding his hands further up, silently urging him on. Logan’s breath hitched, and his eyes darkened even more, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, and you could feel your heart pounding as he tugged, the thin fabric slipping down your legs.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice thick with need as his calloused hands slid back up your thighs, pushing your dress higher. "You're so damn wet already."

You gasped as his fingers brushed against your center, your hips jerking up instinctively. "Logan, please," you whimpered, reaching for him.

He leaned down to kiss you hard, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers began exploring you properly. The roughness of his hands contrasted with how gently he touched you, like he was afraid of breaking you. You moaned into his mouth as he slid one thick finger inside, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"That's it, darlin'," he murmured against your lips. "Let me hear you."

Your dress was bunched around your waist now as Logan worked another finger into you, stretching you carefully. Your earlier orgasm had left you sensitive, making every touch feel electric. His thumb found your clit and began rubbing slow circles that had you writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you gasped, your nails digging into his skin through his beater. "I need—ah!—I need more."

He growled low in his throat, curling his fingers inside you. "Tell me what you need, Y/N. Say it."

Your face flushed but you met his eyes. "I need you inside me. Please, Logan. I've wanted this for so long."

Something dark and possessive flashed in his eyes. He withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss, and reached down to undo his belt. The metal clinked as he pulled it free, the sound sending a thrill through you.

You sat up enough to pull your dress over your head, leaving you in just your bra. Logan's eyes raked over you hungrily as he pushed his jeans down his hips. The obvious bulge in his boxers made your mouth go dry.

"Come here," he growled, pulling you into another searing kiss as his hands found the clasp of your bra. It took him only seconds to undo it, and then you were bare before him, your nipples hardening in the cool air.

Logan's mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks as his hands cupped your breasts. You moaned as he rolled your nipples between his fingers, your back arching into his touch.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough. He shifted to take one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you gasped and squirmed beneath him.

Your hands found the hem of his beater, tugging insistently until he pulled back long enough to yank it off. The sight of his bare chest, all hard muscle and dark hair, made heat pool between your legs. There were old scars scattered across his skin - remnants of wounds time hadn't quite erased.

You reached for his boxers but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one large hand. "Not yet," he growled, his free hand sliding down between your legs again. "Want to make sure you're ready for me."

His fingers found your clit again and you cried out, oversensitive and desperate. "Logan, please," you begged, trying to buck your hips up against his hand. "I'm ready, I swear. I need you now."

He studied your face for a long moment, his eyes dark with desire, before releasing your wrists. "Take them off," he ordered, nodding to his boxers.

Your hands shook slightly as you pushed the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock. He was huge, thick and hard, already leaking at the tip. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, and Logan's breath hitched.

"Careful, darlin'," he warned, his voice strained. "Been wanting this too long to end it early."

He pushed you back onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. The head of his cock brushed against your entrance and you both groaned. Logan braced himself on his forearms above you, his eyes locked on yours.

"You sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough but gentle. "Once I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure. Please, Logan. I want you."

He kissed you hard as he began pushing inside, swallowing your gasps as he stretched you open. The burn was intense but perfect, your body gradually adjusting to his size. Logan moved slowly, giving you time to adapt, but you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself back.

"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally fully seated inside you. "So tight, darlin'. Feel so good around me."

You clutched at his shoulders, panting. "Move," you urged. "Please, I need—"

Logan pulled back and thrust forward again, setting a steady rhythm that had you seeing stars. Each stroke hit something deep inside you that made pleasure spark through your whole body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he fucked into you with increasing force.

"That's it," he growled, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Take it, Y/N. Take all of me."

Your nails raked down his back as the pressure built inside you again. Logan's thrusts grew harder, faster, driving you both toward the edge. The headboard banged against the wall with each movement but neither of you cared about the noise.

"Logan," you gasped, feeling yourself getting close. "I'm gonna—ah!"

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice rough. One hand slid between your bodies to rub your clit. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

The added stimulation pushed you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled, his rhythm faltering as your walls pulsed around him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his thrusts growing erratic. "Where do you want—"

"Inside," you gasped, still riding the aftershocks. "Please, Logan. Wanna feel you."

He cursed, his hips snapping forward a few more times before he buried himself deep with a growl, spilling inside you. You could feel him pulsing, filling you up as he collapsed onto his forearms above you.

For several long moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing. Logan's forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he caught his breath. You ran your hands up and down his back, feeling the sweat-slick skin under your palms.

Finally, he pulled out carefully and rolled onto his side, pulling you with him. You winced slightly at the soreness between your legs, but it was a good kind of ache. Logan's arms wrapped around you, holding you close against his chest.

---

Logan let out a low groan as he woke, the bed beneath him feeling far too comfortable, unfamiliar in a way that immediately set him on edge. It took a second for his mind to catch up, piecing together where he was and, more importantly, who he was with.

He didn’t need to look over to feel the warmth beside him, or the way your hair fanned out across the pillow. It hit him all at once—the heat of your skin against his, the way you’d leaned into him last night, confident, unrestrained. He opened his eyes, gaze finding you lying beside him, face soft and peaceful in sleep, an arm draped over his chest as if you’d claimed him in the night.

Logan sighed, glancing at the ceiling, but couldn’t help looking down at you again, still asleep and blissfully unaware of the storm in his head. He’d known it was a bad idea from the start, coming upstairs with you last night, letting his guard down. But damn, when you’d gotten close, pushing him toward that chair with that look in your eyes—he’d been gone the second you’d touched him.

He was even further gone when he had finally kissed you—it was one of his biggest regrets the last time he had seen you back in 1943—he never held you the way he wanted to. Too afraid that maybe he was the problem, the reason you kept on dying over and over.

And because of that, he hadn’t been this close to you since 1900.

It was strange, being here like this—letting his guard down after all those lives, all those memories of watching you fade out of his reach. A part of him had always tried to keep a distance, to save himself from the heartbreak he knew was coming. But last night… last night, he’d been weak.

He brushed a thumb over your arm without thinking, lost in thought. It was impossible not to wonder, with you lying beside him like this, what it would be like if this time were different. If, just once, he could hold onto you, let himself believe you’d stay.

But he knew better.

His hand lingered on your skin a moment too long, and he felt you stir, your lashes fluttering as you slowly opened your eyes. A soft smile touched your lips when you saw him, and he felt his resolve crack just a little more.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he’d meant.

“Mmm,” you hummed, still sleepy, your fingers tracing a lazy pattern over his chest. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.” You said it lightly, but there was a hint of something else there—relief, maybe. “Guess I finally wore you out.”

Logan huffed, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Guess so.”

You shifted to look at him, your eyes bright with that familiar mischief. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”

He raised a brow. “Excuse?”

“Yeah. For pulling away,” you said, your tone casual but pointed. “You’ve always got one.”

Logan’s jaw clenched slightly, and he broke eye contact, looking away. “It’s complicated, Y/N.”

You reached up, cupping his face and guiding his gaze back to you. “That’s what you always say. Doesn’t mean it has to be.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your face. He could feel the weight of his past with you, all those memories stacking up like a dam holding back a flood. But he couldn’t let you in on that. Couldn’t make you carry the burden of knowing you’d lived—and died—so many times before. It was his cross to bear, not yours.

“Maybe I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he finally said, his voice quieter, a touch raw.

You let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Please, Logan. You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

Logan just shook his head, but he couldn’t help the small, amused smile that crept onto his face. “You’re a handful, you know that?”

“I’ve heard that once or twice,” you teased, running your hand along his chest. “Lucky for you, I don’t scare easy.”

That hint of defiance in your voice tugged at something deep inside him, and he caught your hand, holding it in his as he looked into your eyes. “You say that now. But I’ve got a way of… complicating things.”

Your gaze softened, but there was still a spark there, unyielding. “Good thing I like complicated.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, and for a second, he felt that familiar pull, the urge to tell you everything—to let you in on the truth of why he was here, why he couldn’t stay away. But he stopped himself, the weight of all those lost lifetimes bearing down on him again. He couldn’t do that to you, not this time.

“Then I guess I’m stuck with you,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, even though his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Guess so,” you replied with a grin, shifting closer. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing as you studied him. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you ever gonna stop acting like you’re some kind of curse?” Your voice was soft but firm, like you were daring him to argue.

Logan went silent, his gaze flickering away from yours. You’d hit closer to the truth than you knew.

“Don’t know if I can,” he admitted after a pause. “It’s… complicated.” He shrugged, hoping you’d leave it at that.

But, of course, you didn’t. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep proving you wrong,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, a warm reassurance that only made him feel the pull of his past even stronger.

He didn’t answer, just closed his eyes, letting himself savor this one small, stolen moment with you. Just this once, he’d allow himself that. Because deep down, he knew he’d always lose you in the end.

And this time, he was determined to make it last as long as he could. Maybe, just maybe, even put that ring to use.

---

You were back at the dog shelter, this time staying a little bit longer since one of the workers, Amelia, was out sick.

Lorraine handed you a few leashes, “mind taking some of ‘em out for a walk?”

You happily grabbed the roped leashes, “of course.” Then you glanced over at Logan, who had been eyeing the dogs with a mix of amusement and reservation. “You up for walkin’ some too?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, then at the leashes in your hand, but there was a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Didn’t take you for a dog wrangler, Y/N.”

You laughed, clipping one of the leashes onto a small brown mutt who was practically bouncing with excitement. “Come on, Logan. What’re you afraid of? They don’t bite—well, not all of them, anyway.”

Logan chuckled, reluctantly stepping forward. “Right. Long as they don’t try to drag me down the street.”

You handed him a leash attached to a shaggy, medium-sized dog with big brown eyes, looking up at him expectantly. “Here. This one’s named Ringo. He’s a sweetheart.”

Logan eyed the dog suspiciously before giving the leash a little tug, testing the waters. “Ringo, huh?” He knelt down and patted the dog’s head, a faint smile crossing his face as the dog leaned into his touch. “Guess you’re alright.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “See? He likes you already.” As you finished leashing up a few more of the dogs, you handed the leashes to Logan. “Think you can handle these guys too?”

Logan took the leashes without complaint, looking down at the little group of dogs at his feet. “Guess I don’t have much choice.”

“Good answer,” you teased, giving him a wink before heading toward the door. You led the way outside, the two of you walking side-by-side with the dogs trotting happily along. It was a warm day, and the sun was shining down, casting a soft glow over everything.

Logan glanced over at you as you moved down the sidewalk together, the dogs tugging excitedly at their leashes. You had a carefree smile on your face, and he found himself watching you more than the path ahead, the memory of a few nights ago still vivid in his mind. The thought of it sent a thrill through him—yet at the same time, a pang of dread.

“You always this happy walking dogs, or is it just ‘cause I’m here?” he teased, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

You shot him a playful look. “Guess you’ll never know.” You nudged him lightly with your shoulder, eyes bright with mischief. “But if you keep coming with me, you might find out.”

He let out a small laugh, his gaze softening as he looked away. Even after all these years, you could still surprise him—like the way you’d drag him to places like this or the way you talked about the little things with such enthusiasm. It was one of those qualities he remembered about you from lifetimes ago, and it hadn’t changed. It made him feel like maybe, somehow, this was different.

As you walked a little further, one of the dogs—a scruffy little terrier—yipped and tugged at Logan’s leash, trying to chase after a pigeon. He grunted, holding the leash tightly and muttering, “Settle down, mutt. You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

You laughed, glancing over with an amused smile. “Ringo’s got more energy than you’d think, huh?”

Logan shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, maybe I should be takin’ notes from him.” He looked at you then, and his expression softened. “You’ve really got a thing for these dogs, don’t ya?”

Your smile faded into something more thoughtful as you looked down at the furry pack in front of you. “I dunno. I guess they’re just… easy to be around. They don’t care about who my father is or what I do—they just want someone to be with them, you know?”

Logan nodded, watching the way you interacted with the dogs, your fingers lightly brushing over their heads, your voice soft as you spoke to them. You’d always had that kindness about you, that gentleness that made him want to believe in something better, something… safe.

“You’re good with ‘em,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You looked up at him, a smile in your eyes. “You know, you’re not so bad with them either, Logan.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll leave the dog-wranglin’ to you.”

For a while, you walked in comfortable silence, the bustling city around you fading into the background as you wandered through the neighborhood with the dogs. Finally, you reached a small park, and you stopped to let the dogs sniff around.

As they explored, you took a seat on a nearby bench, patting the spot beside you. Logan hesitated for a second before joining you, stretching his legs out in front of him.

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “Thanks for coming today. I know this probably isn’t your ideal way to spend an afternoon.”

Logan shrugged, trying to act casual, but he couldn’t hide the warmth in his gaze. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be,” he said, his voice low.

The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, and you looked away, feeling a little bashful. You fiddled with one of the leashes, clearing your throat. “You know… the more time we spend together, the more I wonder how long you’re planning to stick around.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his answer. He wanted to tell you the truth—that he’d been watching you, waiting for you, for so many lifetimes. But he couldn’t. Instead, he reached out, his hand covering yours where it rested on the bench.

“As long as you’ll have me,” he said quietly.

The words hung between you, and for a moment, it was like the whole world had faded away. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the depths of his expression.

A soft smile touched your lips, and you squeezed his hand. “Then you’re gonna be around for a long time, Logan.”

He felt a strange, hopeful ache in his chest at your words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, this time, things could be different.

The dogs barked, breaking the spell, and you both laughed, pulling away as you got up to wrangle them again. But even as you continued on your walk, he stayed close by your side, his hand occasionally brushing yours as you walked—almost as if he was reminding himself that you were real, that you were here with him.

---

Late one night, you lay beside Logan in the dim light filtering through the window, the city’s night sounds a steady hum in the distance. Your head rested on his chest, your fingers tracing lazy circles over the skin above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath your touch.

Logan shifted slightly, his hand coming up to rest gently on your back. For a long time, he just lay there, watching you in silence, his thumb brushing along your spine. You could tell he was relaxed, but there was something else—a quiet intensity in the way his gaze lingered on you, a heaviness in the air that made your heart race.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” you murmured, letting your fingers trail up to his collarbone. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest hint of a smile as he met your eyes.

“Just… wonderin’ how I got roped into all this,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. But the glint in his eyes gave him away, and you saw something softer there.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.” You smirked, giving his chest a light pat. “I’d almost say you’re gettin’ attached.”

He snorted, pulling you a little closer, his arm tightening around you. “Could say the same for you,” he replied, his voice low, almost teasing. “You’re insatiable, y’know that?”

You laughed, and the sound was soft in the quiet room. “You’re the one who keeps showin’ up, Logan. If you wanted me to behave, you’d stay away.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave.”

Your fingers stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So you like me like this, then? A little reckless… a little spoiled?” you teased.

He chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Yeah,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Think I do.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you settled back against his chest, letting your hand rest over his heart. For a while, neither of you said anything, the silence comfortable, his warmth grounding you. It was a rare kind of peace—one that you’d come to cherish whenever you were with him.

But then, curiosity got the better of you, and you lifted your head, giving him a thoughtful look. “Logan,” you began, your voice hesitant. “How long are you gonna stick around? I mean… I know my dad thinks you’re just here for protection, but… it feels like more than that.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, a flash of something unreadable passing over his face. He glanced away, his jaw tensing as he seemed to search for the right words. “As long as you want me here, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Then don’t,” you whispered, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t want you to.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but his hand slipped up to cup the back of your head, pulling you down into a slow, lingering kiss. There was something different about it this time, a quiet desperation that made your pulse quicken, like he was trying to hold on to this moment, to keep it from slipping away.

When you finally pulled back, you searched his eyes, wondering what was going through his mind. “You’re not gonna let me go, are you?”

A small smile tugged at his lips, though his gaze was still shadowed. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

You felt a surge of affection for him then, this man who’d somehow become both your protector and your closest confidant. He was rough around the edges, guarded and distant with everyone else—but with you, he was different. You brought out a softness in him, a warmth that felt as though it had been buried for a long, long time.

Without thinking, you reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be my bodyguard, you’re doing a terrible job at keeping things professional,” you teased, though there was no bite in your words.

Logan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re the one makin’ things complicated, Y/N.”

“Maybe.” You smirked, your fingers still tracing over his chest. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

He looked at you then, something fierce in his eyes, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man he’d been—a man who’d loved and lost, who’d carried scars from lifetimes past. You wondered if he would ever tell you his story, if he would ever let you in on the secrets he guarded so closely.

But for now, you were content with the silence, with the feel of his heartbeat beneath your hand, with the quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

As the night wore on, you lay there together, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

---

Your father had asked you to come to his office in the spacious house. At first it was nothing but muffled voices from outside the door, until Logan heard your father speak again, for a longer period of time, causing your own voice to rise.

While Logan couldn’t make out the words you were saying even with his enhanced hearing, he could tell you weren’t happy. Your voice carried that sharp edge you only got when something really struck a nerve, and judging by the way you didn’t hold back, it had to be serious.

Logan lingered just outside the heavy, mahogany door of your father’s office, his fists clenched as he heard your voice rising behind it. It was clear you were upset, and whatever was being discussed inside, you didn’t like it. He’d seen you frustrated, angry even, but never like this—there was a desperation in your tone that sent a chill through him.

Moments later, the door flew open, and you stormed out, cheeks flushed with anger, eyes flashing as you spotted him. You barely paused, brushing past him, but Logan caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “What happened?”

You turned to face him, anger and hurt swirling in your eyes. “He’s… he’s marrying me off, Logan. To that family. After everything he promised me—he said he’d never force me into something like this.”

Logan’s expression hardened. “What are you talkin’ about? He can’t just… marry you off like some kind of deal.”

Your hands were shaking as you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, struggling to keep your composure. “Apparently, he can. There’s been this feud with the Romano family for years, and he says this is the only way to keep the peace. To protect me. Protect us.”

Logan’s jaw clenched. He felt a familiar anger rising in him, a deep, protective instinct he’d been fighting to keep under wraps. “So, he’s just gonna throw you into a marriage you don’t want? You don’t even know this guy, do you?”

You shook your head, looking away. “I met him once. He was… polite enough. But that’s not the point, Logan. I don’t want to marry him—or anyone like this. My father always said he’d let me choose, that he wouldn’t… sell me off.” The bitterness in your tone stung, your gaze distant as if replaying the conversation.

Logan searched your face, feeling an ache he couldn’t put into words. “And he knows how you feel about this?”

You swallowed, nodding. “I told him, but he says I don’t understand the bigger picture, that this is what’s best for everyone.” You gave a hollow laugh, looking down. “For everyone but me.”

He felt a pang of guilt, knowing he was just a bodyguard, technically part of the arrangement meant to keep you safe from any threats. But you were more than just a job to him, and the thought of you being forced into something like this made his blood boil. He let out a rough breath, stepping closer. “Y/N, you don’t have to go along with this. Not if you don’t want to.”

Your gaze softened as you looked up at him. “And what am I supposed to do, Logan? Run off in the middle of the night?” You gave a small, bitter smile. “I don’t even know where I’d go.”

He didn’t hesitate, his voice dropping low. “Then we go together. If you don’t wanna go through with this, we’ll figure somethin’ else out.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, the anger and hurt seemed to fade, replaced by something warmer, more uncertain. “You’d really… leave everything?”

He shrugged, almost nonchalant, but there was a fierce determination in his eyes. “I got no reason to stay here if you’re not here, too.”

You hesitated, torn between the depth of his offer and the weight of the decision you knew would follow. Finally, you gave a small nod, as if grounding yourself in the moment. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen, Logan, but… I just need to know you’re here. That I’m not going through this alone.”

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, Y/N. You got my word on that.”

There was a silence between you, thick and charged, each of you processing the weight of everything unsaid. His gaze stayed locked on yours, and for a moment, the anger and fear in your eyes softened, replaced by something closer to relief. And then, almost impulsively, you took his hand, squeezing it tight.

“Thank you, Logan. I… I needed to hear that,” you said softly, glancing away before meeting his gaze again, vulnerability written all over your face. “Just… don’t let go, okay?”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

---

Nancy was doing your hair once again for the dinner with the Romano family. You had tried everything over the past few weeks, trying to convince your father that this didn’t have to happen. That he promised you he would never do this.

But no matter what you did, he was firm in his stance, "you're getting married to Clyde, and that's final."

You sat still, staring at your reflection in the mirror as Nancy pinned up the last of your curls. Your face looked composed, serene even, but beneath it, there was a storm brewing—a knot of anger and dread you couldn’t shake. Every time you thought about that dinner tonight, your stomach twisted. Clyde Romano. A stranger. And yet, your father had decided this was your future, and nothing you said seemed to change his mind.

Nancy, sensing the tension, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It’ll be alright, Y/N. You’ll be surrounded by family."

Family. Right. But none of them seemed to understand how trapped you felt. You forced a tight-lipped smile, nodding. "Thanks, Nancy."

As she stepped back, there was a light knock at the door. You turned to see Logan standing there, looking slightly uncomfortable in his formal attire but as steadfast as ever. His gaze softened as he took in your appearance, though he quickly masked it.

"Didn’t mean to interrupt," he said, glancing between you and Nancy. "Just wanted to make sure you’re ready."

Nancy finished adjusting your hair and excused herself, leaving you alone with Logan. You looked at him, searching his face, hoping for some kind of lifeline.

"Logan," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I’m being dragged somewhere I can’t escape from."

He stepped closer, his expression darkening as he listened. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. You know I’m with you, whatever you decide.” His hand reached out, brushing against your arm, his touch grounding you.

You drew in a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “What if I decide to just… disappear?” you asked, half-joking but mostly serious.

Logan’s eyes met yours, and you saw the unspoken resolve there. “Then I’ll be right behind you. Doesn’t matter where.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe it—that you could simply run, with Logan at your side. But reality crashed back in, and you dropped your gaze.

"I wish it were that simple," you whispered, clenching your fists. "But if I leave, it could tear everything apart."

Logan’s hand settled over yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Then we make it through tonight. And tomorrow, we figure out the rest. You’re not facing this alone, darlin’. Not as long as I’m here."

You looked up at him, finding strength in his gaze. He’d been your rock through all of this, his presence steady and unwavering. And tonight, that was what you needed most.

“Alright,” you murmured, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Let’s go face this… together.”

He nodded, his grip on your hand a silent promise. Whatever came next, you knew he’d be there, just as he always had been. And with that thought, you found the courage to head downstairs to face your family—and the Romanos—one more time.

---

The dinner was at an Italian restaurant, one your father owned as cover for his business. Your dad sat at the head of the table while Clyde’s father sat at the other end. In front of you was your uncle Ermanno, who was also your dad’s consigliere, while Clyde sat next to you.

Logan, along with the other bodyguards, stood watch at the entrance of the private dining room, their silent gazes sweeping the place. He wore his usual hard expression, though his eyes softened just a touch when they found you across the room. He’d been watching you all night—catching every little shift, each moment you looked down or forced a smile, every subtle tightening of your hand on the tablecloth.

Clyde Romano leaned in a little closer, his arm casually brushing against yours as he tried to make small talk. "So, Y/N, I hear you’ve been helping out at a shelter?"

You nodded, barely meeting his eyes. “Yeah, I volunteer with the dogs mostly. It’s…nice to get away from all this sometimes.” You forced a smile, trying to keep things polite. You could feel your father’s gaze on you, watching for any misstep.

Clyde smiled back, but it felt too rehearsed. “Well, once we’re married, you won’t have to worry about shelters or anything like that. You’ll have enough responsibilities as a Romano.”

You felt your stomach twist at his words. Logan’s gaze sharpened from across the room as he picked up on the slight shift in your expression. You shot him a quick look, your eyes pleading for any kind of rescue. Logan’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, he almost looked like he’d step in. But he stayed put, his hands clenched behind his back.

Instead, he looked for the smallest opening. Just as Clyde’s attention was pulled away by his father, Logan slipped into view, leaning down beside you. “You alright?” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear.

“Not even close,” you whispered back, your eyes fixed on your glass. “He’s already talking about our future like… like it’s set in stone.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something fierce. “We’ll get through this, Y/N. Tonight’s just another show. Nothing more.” His fingers brushed the back of your chair, the barely-there touch sending a wave of calm through you.

But Clyde’s voice cut back in before Logan could say anything more. “Y/N, we were thinking of heading to Italy for the honeymoon. It’ll be a good chance to meet the rest of the family there.”

Your heart sank further. Italy. An entire ocean away, away from everything you knew, from everyone who mattered to you. “Italy,” you echoed, your voice strained but steady.

“Yeah. The Romano estates are beautiful—beaches, vineyards… a real paradise.” He seemed oblivious to your hesitation, already dreaming up plans you’d had no say in. Your father looked pleased, nodding his approval from his end of the table.

Logan straightened, but the look he gave you was unmistakable: You don’t have to do this.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat as Clyde rambled on. When his focus shifted to his own father again, you leaned back just enough to whisper to Logan, “I’m not sure I can keep pretending.”

Logan’s expression softened, and for a second, he let a hint of his guard down. “You don’t have to, darlin’.” His voice was low, almost tender, meant for you alone. “Say the word, and we walk outta here. Right now.”

The thought made your heart skip, but your gaze drifted toward your father, seated across the table with a look of satisfaction. Leaving wasn’t just about you; it would mean defying him, challenging the life he’d molded for you. The thought felt like a mountain on your shoulders.

“I can’t just walk away,” you said quietly. “He’s… he’d never forgive me.”

Logan’s hand brushed yours under the table, a quiet show of support. “Maybe he’s the one who should be asking for forgiveness,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a light circle over your knuckles. The warmth of his touch settled something in you, steadying your breath.

You gave a tiny nod, squeezing his hand for just a second before pulling away. Logan straightened, stepping back to his post but still keeping his gaze on you. Clyde was oblivious, caught up in a conversation with his father about future business plans, each word feeling like a nail in the coffin.

Dinner dragged on, a blur of forced laughter and stiff conversation. Every time you felt yourself sinking, you looked toward Logan. He was there, solid and watchful, like a silent promise of something real in a room full of facades.

Eventually, the families began to wind down, talk shifting to more casual chatter. Clyde, emboldened by the night’s success, reached over and took your hand, his grip possessive. “Soon, you’ll be part of the family, Y/N. You’ll see. You’ll come to love it.”

Your mind screamed at the thought, every fiber of you wanting to pull away. But you held still, not daring to make a scene. Logan’s gaze narrowed, his jaw set as he took in the sight of Clyde’s hand around yours.

Finally, as the night came to an end and the families started to stand, Clyde leaned in with a smug smile. “Ready to go? I thought we’d take a walk, just the two of us.”

Before you could answer, Logan was there, stepping in with a casual yet firm presence. “Mr. Romano,” he said, addressing Clyde but looking right at you, “your father asked to speak with you in private before you head out.”

Clyde frowned but nodded, reluctantly releasing your hand. “I’ll be back soon, Y/N.” He disappeared toward the far end of the room, leaving you alone with Logan.

You let out a slow breath, the tension finally loosening from your shoulders. “Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at him, gratitude spilling from every word.

Logan gave a slight nod. “Couldn’t let him drag you out there without a say.” His voice was rough, but his eyes softened as he held your gaze. “You’re not alone in this, Y/N. Whatever happens… you got me.”

The weight of the night lifted just a little, and for a moment, you almost believed you had a choice in all of this.

---

“A week?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper as you stood in your father’s office. The weight of the word seemed to pull you under, even as you fought to keep your voice steady.

Your father’s expression was impassive, arms crossed as he looked at you. “Yes, Y/N. The Romano family wants to move quickly. They think it’s best, and I agree. It’s time you take on this responsibility for the family.”

Your jaw clenched. You remembered the promises he made, back when you were younger, that he’d never force you into something like this. “I just… I don’t understand. You always said—”

“People change, Y/N,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “This is what’s best for you and for us. For the family.”

You shook your head, feeling a rush of helplessness. “And what about what I want? I��ve been trying to tell you for weeks that I don’t want this, and you’re not listening.”

He exhaled sharply, the kind of sigh that signaled his patience was running thin. “This isn’t about what you want. I didn’t raise you to be selfish.”

“Selfish?” The word stung, and you couldn’t help the surge of anger that rose within you. “I’m asking for my life. How is that selfish?”

He frowned, unyielding. “Enough, Y/N. This is happening. We’re done discussing it.”

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay composed. The walls of the office seemed to close in on you, the reality of it settling heavy and cold. You had a week—seven days—to either submit to this life he’d chosen for you or… what? You didn’t even know.

Without another word, you turned and left, fighting the urge to slam the door behind you. The hall felt stifling as you walked out, your thoughts churning.

When you reached your room, Logan was there, waiting. The moment he saw your face, he stiffened. “What happened?” His voice was a low rumble, the concern clear.

“A week,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “I have a week before he marries me off to Clyde.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. He stepped closer, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “So that’s it, then? He’s just… throwing you to that bastard?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. “I don’t know what to do, Logan. I tried everything, but he won’t listen. He’s set on it.”

Logan’s hand slipped down, finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze, his rough fingers warm and grounding. You tightened your grip, the frustration and helplessness boiling inside you finally having somewhere to go.

“I’m supposed to just go along with it,” you muttered, bitterness seeping into your words. “Act like I’m thrilled to be Clyde’s obedient little wife. Like my life’s just… his to take.”

Logan’s gaze darkened. “It’s not. You know that. And anyone who tries to take it without your say? They got me to deal with.” His voice was low and dangerous, a promise just for you.

You looked up, searching his face, a flicker of hope stirring. “But what can we do, Logan? He’s not going to listen to me. And if I push back too hard… I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Then let me get you out of here,” Logan said, leaning in closer. His voice softened, gentler now. “We can leave, right now if you want. Just say the word.”

Your heart twisted painfully, the temptation so fierce you almost said yes then and there. But reality clawed its way back, the weight of your father’s expectations and the tight grip he kept on every part of your life. Leaving would mean giving up everything—and, deep down, you weren’t sure you could risk it.

“What about my dad?” you whispered, feeling the weight of it pressing down again. “He’s… he’d see it as betrayal, Logan. And what if he goes after you?”

A flicker of something familiar crossed Logan’s face, a shadow from a life you couldn’t remember but that he clearly did. “Y/N, don’t worry about me,” he murmured. “Been through worse.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture so tender it nearly undid you. “And if he’s got a problem, then he can take it up with me.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger and fear give way just a bit. “You say that now, but you haven’t seen how he gets when people cross him. He’d never forgive me, Logan. He’d never forgive us.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your face, his touch steadying you as his eyes met yours. “Then we don’t need his forgiveness. We get you out, and I keep you safe. Whatever comes after, we face it together.”

The fierce certainty in his voice sent a warmth flooding through you, your resolve hardening under his gaze. “But Clyde, the Romano’s… they won’t just let it go.”

A smirk tugged at Logan’s mouth, the edge of defiance clear. “Then they’ll learn what happens when they mess with you. Ain’t nobody’s right to take away your freedom, Y/N. Not your old man, not Clyde, not anyone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, his hand still warm against your cheek. Your fingers tightened around his, and for a second, all the anger and dread faded, leaving just you and him in the quiet of the room.

“What about… us?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and for a second, you held your breath, waiting for his reaction.

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze never leaving yours. “What about us, darlin’?” He brushed a thumb along your cheek, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You think I’d just leave you here to face this on your own?”

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him, his presence steady and unshakable. He let out a low sigh, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer, his other hand tracing gentle circles over your back.

“You’re all I’ve got in this,” you whispered, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“You won’t,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, his hold tightening just enough to reassure you. “Not now, not ever.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in his embrace, the weight of everything slipping away in his arms. But eventually, reality crept back in, and you pulled back, catching the flicker of resolve in his gaze.

“If we do this…” You paused, steadying yourself. “If we leave, we need a plan.”

Logan gave a small nod, his hand still resting on yours. “We’ll figure it out. Tonight, we’re just gettin’ you through this.”

It was a promise, simple and unbreakable, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a flicker of hope stirring deep inside you.

---

The rehearsal dinner was held in a private room at the church a few days later; a grand, echoing place with gilded walls and tall stained-glass windows that cast colored light over everything. Clyde, his parents, and your family were all gathered, discussing wedding arrangements like it was a done deal, each word chipping away at any illusion of control you had left.

Logan and the other bodyguards stood at a respectful distance, keeping watch. He tried to keep his gaze neutral, but his eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, catching every forced smile and stiff nod you gave.

As the minister went through the motions, you and Clyde practiced exchanging vows. You held his hands, repeating words that felt like a foreign language—lifeless, meaningless. Your eyes drifted toward Logan, and he gave you the barest nod, grounding you with that single, unspoken promise.

After the vows, Clyde leaned in close, his voice low and smug. “I think you’ll come to love our life together, Y/N. Just give it time.”

You forced a polite smile, biting back the words you wanted to say. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Logan clench his fists, his face darkening.

Finally, as the rehearsal ended and people began drifting off, you made your way to a quiet corner, needing a moment alone. Logan slipped over to you, his movements subtle as he came to stand beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

You shook your head, feeling that familiar knot of dread twist tighter. “Logan, I don’t think I can go through with this. But I don’t know if I can run, either. I’m…  I’m stuck.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he looked down at you. “What if I told you that you didn’t have to decide tonight?” he asked quietly. “That we could just… take it one day at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

The tension in your shoulders eased a bit, and you met his eyes, finding strength in the certainty there. He wasn’t pushing you, wasn’t forcing anything on you. He was just… here, with you, in whatever way you needed.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly. “One day at a time.”

Logan gave a small, reassuring smile. “That’s all we need, darlin’.” His hand brushed your shoulder, lingering just a second longer than necessary before he stepped back.

---

The day of the wedding had arrived, and you were dolled up, your makeup and hair were perfect, and your wedding dress was heavy, constricting, and large.

Once the makeup artists and hair stylists left, you had fled to the bathroom in the bridal suite and were currently hunched over the toilet. You hadn’t thrown up—yet—but you could feel the nausea and anxiousness rising.

You braced yourself against the counter, taking deep breaths as you tried to calm the twisting feeling in your stomach. The dress felt like a vice, heavy and restrictive, pressing on every nerve, suffocating in a way that went beyond fabric and lace. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping the queasiness would pass.

A knock at the door pulled you from the spinning in your head.

“Y/N?” Nancy’s soft, steady voice filtered through, full of that motherly concern you’d come to rely on all your life.

You took a steadying breath, swallowing hard before calling out, “Come in, Nancy.”

The door creaked open, and Nancy stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. Her gaze immediately softened as she took in the look on your face, her expression a mix of sympathy and something else—resolve, maybe.

“Oh, cara mia,” she murmured, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t look well. This whole business—it’s too much, isn’t it?”

You managed a shaky nod. “I… I don’t know if I can do this, Nancy. Every time I think about it, I just…” You trailed off, not sure how to put into words the suffocating dread that had settled over you.

She gave you a small, encouraging squeeze. “You know,” she said quietly, “there are other paths besides the one your father chose for you. And you don’t have to walk it alone.”

Your heart skipped at her words. “You… you’d help me? Even if I…?”

Nancy nodded, a spark of fierce protectiveness in her eyes. “Logan’s already got your things in his car,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “If you’re ready to go, he’s waiting.”

You blinked back tears before grabbing one of her hands, “y- you want me to go?”

“SÌ. Your father is a bastardo, breaking that promise him and your mother made.” She squeezed your hand, “Logan’s a good man. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He won’t let you down.”

You swallowed hard, Nancy’s words settling like a quiet fire in your chest. She was right. Your father had broken his promise, and you didn’t owe him your life just because he controlled every other part of it.

With a shaky exhale, you gave her a nod. “Alright… I’ll go.”

Nancy’s face softened, relief mingling with pride. “Good girl. Now, take this.” She pressed a small envelope into your hand. “Cash. Just in case.”

You looked down at it, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Nancy. For everything.”

She pulled you into a hug, her hand stroking your back gently. “Go, cara mia. Go live your life.” She pulled back, eyes glinting with fierce determination. “And don’t look back.”

You nodded, holding onto that resolve as you slipped out of the bathroom and made your way down the hall, heart pounding. Every step felt heavier, weighed down by fear and the voice in the back of your mind that told you this was dangerous, reckless. But when you stepped outside and saw Logan waiting by his car, the weight lifted.

He looked up, his gaze intense but soft, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. “You ready?”

You hesitated, just for a moment, before giving him a small nod. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Logan opened the passenger door for you, helping you in, his hand lingering on yours for a second longer than necessary. He closed the door, then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine with a low rumble that matched the pulse pounding in your ears.

As he pulled out of the church’s parking lot, the weight of the decision hit you again. You were leaving everything behind—the security, the expectations, the people who’d shaped your entire life. But with each passing second, the fear melted away, replaced by a strange, liberating sense of excitement.

Logan glanced over, noticing the small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t look so panicked now.”

You shook your head, unable to hide your grin. “I’m not. Not with you here.”

He gave a soft chuckle, that familiar warmth in his gaze. “Good. Because we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

You settled back, feeling more at ease than you’d felt in months. There was silence for a moment, comfortable and charged, before you turned to him, voice barely a whisper.

“Where are we going?”

Logan smirked. “Anywhere but here.”

You laughed softly, relaxing into your seat. The road stretched ahead, open and endless, and for the first time in a long while, the future felt like something you could shape.

logan is 141 years old and reader is around 23-25 years old

what!? is that a happy ending? who would've thought... next up, is origins!

[cuntressgoingdigital]

BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go. 

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse. 

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room. 

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs. 

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far. 

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan. 

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis. 

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed. 

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough. 

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!” 

abby knew that voice. 

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk. 

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner. 

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk. 

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her. 

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?” 

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.” 

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck. 

she didn’t even ask for your name. 

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you. 

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction. 

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable. 

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual. 

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.” 

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush. 

“hey!” 

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out. 

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?” 

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach. 

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?” 

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations. 

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was. 

but, that wasn’t your business. 

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.” 

god, you were the cutest thing. 

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class. 

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise. 

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far. 

and really pretty. 

like, really pretty. 

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately. 

abby a.: is this good? 

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account. 

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it 

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check. 

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance. 

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster. 

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated. 

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be. 

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door. 

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz. 

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you. 

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name. 

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car. 

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.” 

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder. 

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.” 

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?” 

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus. 

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port. 

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs. 

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.” 

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it. 

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.” 

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table. 

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology. 

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you. 

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets. 

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar. 

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder. 

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded. 

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.” 

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.” 

“i can be just friends with a girl!” 

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby). 

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts. 

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be. 

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week. 

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’. 

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you. 

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up. 

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her. 

she just couldn’t take it anymore. 

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand. 

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to. 

you always got the passenger princess treatment. 

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift. 

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings. 

“you okay, babe?” 

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that. 

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same 

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth. 

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over. 

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.” 

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe. 

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room. 

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?” 

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time. 

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle. 

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t. 

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.” 

finally, abby could exhale. 

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?” 

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.” 

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased. 

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?” 

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity. 

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.” 

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours. 

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest. 

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap. 

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss. 

“is that okay?” 

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.” 

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips. 

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her. 

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you. 

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side. 

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones. 

“sort of. a while ago.” 

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart. 

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress. 

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone. 

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand. 

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

heyooo could you write a long one shot where Fernando is readers mentor when he “retires” teaches her everything she needs to know.: however then he returns to F1 and can’t mentor her anymore is instead a rival but pushes her off the track accidentally he thought it was ocon.. and he retires the car .. because along the way he’s fallen in love with her… again lots of angst and fluff I’m down for it ahah

comments are always appreciated:)

Red Flags and Green Lights

When Fernando retired he himself thought that it was the end of his career especially towards Motorsport. His last season was gruesome and frankly disappointing. McLaren had let him down big time it was almost as if each race was a joke. Poor strategy Poor performance Poor car.

At the end of the season Fernando knew he couldn’t take it much longer and had decided to draw the curtains up towards his impressive career.

To get away from the cameras and the journalist Fernando had decided to seek refuge in a small Spanish town just off the cost. The salty Spanish air made the Spaniard thrive. He had no intention of ever going back to anything related to Motorsport.

Beginnings

The first time Fernando Alonso had seen you on track, he had raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the usual dismissive look he gave young drivers—those hungry, wide-eyed rookies trying to make a name for themselves. No, you weren’t like them. You were different.

You had come from the junior ranks, a rising star in a new generation of drivers, but there was something about you that intrigued him. Your precision, your ability to adapt to a car almost too quickly. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you handled yourself off the track—there was a steeliness to you, a quiet confidence that made him think: This one, she’s got it.

Fernando had never been a particularly warm person, but he’d learned the hard way that talent alone wasn’t enough to succeed in Formula 1. Mentorship—that was the missing ingredient. He’d had great mentors, but his relationship with them had been less than ideal. He was determined to be better. To be the mentor that you didn’t know you needed.

And so, he took you under his wing. At first, it wasn’t obvious what he was doing. He wasn’t the type to sit down and give long speeches about racing. Instead, it was in the small moments, the subtle lessons.

“Don’t overdrive the car,” Fernando would say, tossing you a casual glance during a debrief. “The car doesn’t care about your ego. It’s about balance.”

At first, you’d bristled at his bluntness. But as you spent more time together, you realized he wasn’t being harsh—he was just pushing you in the only way he knew how. And you respected that. In a world of flashy trainers and corporate personas, Fernando was real. He demanded nothing less than your best.

But there were softer moments, too. When he’d see you frustrated, or exhausted after a long race weekend, he’d quietly hand you a bottle of water with a knowing smile. “You’re getting better,” he’d say. "But don’t burn yourself out. It’s a marathon, not a sprint."

Sometimes, after a race, when you’d sit on the pit wall, Fernando would join you. The two of you, silent, watching the crowd disperse, the paddock buzzing around you. He’d stare into the distance, and you could see the weight of his years in the sport, the regret, the battles won and lost.

“You’ll be in my shoes one day,” he’d say, almost absentmindedly. “Just... don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

You’d always chuckle. "I'll try not to." But deep down, you knew exactly what he meant.

You were learning not just the technical side of racing, but the psychology of it—the mental toughness that could make or break a driver. How to handle pressure. How to handle failure. Fernando was a master of that.

The Return

It had been a year since Fernando had “retired.” You were now racing for a mid-tier team, working your way up. You had started to gain attention, but it wasn’t easy. Racing was still a brutal sport, and no one cared how much potential you had if you didn’t win.

It was late in the season when the rumors first started. Fernando was coming back. You tried to ignore it, but it was everywhere. You told yourself it was just gossip. He’d never actually return.

Then, one afternoon, you were sitting in the debrief room, eyes glued to the telemetry, when your phone buzzed. It was a message from your PR manager: "Fernando's back. Announced this morning."

The room around you seemed to close in. It hit you harder than you thought it would. Fernando Alonso, your mentor, your friend, your rival. You had always admired his fiery passion for racing, but this—this felt different. He was coming back *to take your spot.*

The news hit you hard, but you swallowed it. You had worked too hard to let it defeat you. Yet, the sting of betrayal wasn’t easily ignored. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t warned you. He was coming back to take the very thing you had worked so tirelessly for.

For days, you were a mess. Racing weekends became a blur of frustration. Every time you saw Fernando’s name on the timing sheets, every time you heard the roar of his engine in the distance, something inside of you twisted.

Rivals

The first time you went head-to-head with Fernando on track was at the Monaco Grand Prix. The streets of Monte Carlo, narrow and unforgiving, had always been a playground for him. You had grown up watching him win here, his aggressive style perfectly suited to the challenge. But now? Now, he was your competition.

The tension in the paddock was palpable. You hadn’t spoken much to Fernando since his return—an awkward, strained silence had settled between you both. He was now racing for Aston Martin, and you were still with your current team, fighting for every point.

Race day arrived, and as you suited up, your heart pounded in your chest. The press had been relentless, comparing you to Fernando—asking if you were nervous, asking if you felt the pressure. You couldn’t let them see you break.

As you lined up on the grid, your eyes drifted to Fernando’s car. He was in his familiar spot, just a few rows ahead of you. When his eyes met yours, you felt a twinge of something—regret, longing, but also something else. The rivalry. You had to put it all aside now. You weren’t his protégé anymore. You were his equal. And that meant you had to beat him.

The race was a blur of tight corners, full-throttle accelerations, and the constant threat of losing grip. Fernando had a knack for reading the race, for making late-breaking moves that left you on edge. Lap after lap, he pushed you, forcing you to respond with everything you had.

But it wasn’t just the pressure on the track that had you on edge. It was the way his presence haunted you. Every time you braked too late or took a corner too aggressively, you could almost feel him beside you, his voice in your ear.

Don’t overdrive the car. Control your emotions.

And then, it happened.

It was the final lap, and you were battling for position. You had the inside line heading into the chicane, the tires on your car worn and your concentration slipping. Fernando, pushing hard from behind, wasn’t giving an inch. You could feel his car getting closer, so close that his rearview mirror almost felt like it was inside your helmet.

You took the corner too sharply, trying to block his line. And that’s when it happened.

Fernando’s car clipped your rear tire. The next thing you knew, your car was spinning, the track blurring around you, the world upside down.

In an instant, you were off the track. The gravel crunched under your tires as you skidded to a halt. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Shit! Are you okay?" Fernando’s voice crackled through your radio, panic in his voice.

You gripped the steering wheel, a lump in your throat. He didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact that it was him the man who had once mentored you, the man who had taught you everything you knew, the man who had now put you in the gravel.

You sat there for a long moment, trying to regain your composure. The race was over for you. But it wasn’t over for Fernando.

You heard the engine roar as his car raced past. And then, as he crossed the line into the pits , he was the one who had retired without any reason to.

The Apology

The days after the incident were heavy. The press had made their usual spectacle of the crash. But you were quiet. You kept your distance, kept your head down. Fernando had won, of course. The car was still fast, even if he had been a little too aggressive.

He didn’t come to you right away. It wasn’t until the next race in Austria that you finally saw him, walking through the paddock, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since Monaco, you both stopped.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “I thought it was Ocon.”

You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions rushing to your chest. The apology wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the walls you’d built around your heart begin to crack.

“Fernando,” you said softly, “I know. I know it wasn’t intentional. but” You cut yourself off, swallowing hard. “You could’ve hurt me. You could’ve ruined everything we worked for.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the driver who had taken your spot. He was just Fernando the man who had shown you how to drive, how to fight for everything you wanted.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like this,” he said quietly. “I’ve been a fool.”

You were silent, looking at the ground, feeling the weight of the last few years crash down on you.

And then, finally, you looked up at him. “You taught me how to race. But you also taught me how to let go. Maybe... maybe it’s time for it for us to let go.”

Confessions

Months had passed since the Monaco incident, and the tension between you and Fernando, once thick and palpable, had slowly faded into a quiet understanding. The rivalry had not diminished the bond you shared, but it had forged a new dynamic. There were moments when you'd catch him watching you, his gaze steady, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something deeper.

It was after the Italian Grand Prix, a race that had been as unpredictable as the season itself, that everything finally came to a head. You had managed to finish in the points, a small but significant victory for you and your team, while Fernando had taken a step back from the podium, frustrated with his own performance. As you made your way through the paddock, you saw him standing near the garage, his eyes distant. You walked over, unsure of what to expect, but the warmth in his gaze when he saw you took you by surprise.

“Not bad today,” he said, his usual teasing tone absent, replaced by something genuine.

“Could’ve been better,” you replied, glancing at his tired eyes. "But you, you’re still a threat on the track, Fernando. Always will be."

He chuckled softly, then fell quiet. The noise of the paddock, the usual chaos of post-race analysis, faded as the two of you stood in that small, private bubble. It was strange, how it had always been with him. Every time you were around, you felt seen—truly seen, in a way that no one else could.

“You’ve come so far,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t think you even realize how much you've changed, how much you've grown since I first saw you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling at your lips. “It’s all thanks to you, isn’t it?”

He looked down at the ground, almost as if hesitating. The silence between you stretched, and then Fernando looked up, his eyes locking with yours. “Maybe... but it’s not just that. There’s something I need to say to you.” He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the pit wall.

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What is it?"

“I never meant for things to get so complicated between us,” Fernando started, his voice low but clear. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it was just the rivalry, that it was all about racing. But the truth is I’ve been holding back for so long. Holding back from telling you what I really feel.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew what he was about to say, and yet, hearing it aloud made the words seem more real than ever.

“I care about you," he said, the words tumbling out, raw and honest. "Not just as a driver or a mentor, but... more than that. You mean more to me than I’ve let on."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, staring at him, your heart racing. The past few months had been a whirlwind conflict, growth, understanding but now, in this quiet moment, everything felt clear.

“I care about you too, Fernando,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ve been so focused on proving myself, on being the driver you helped me become, that I never realized how much you meant to me until now.”

There was no dramatic confession, no grand gesture. Just two people, who had been through so much together, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been there all along.

Fernando smiled, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “So, we’re not just teammates anymore?”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Definitely not.”

He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. It wasn’t a rush or a need to act on anything. It was just a simple, unspoken connection—one that had been building for so long, and now, at last, it was out in the open.

“You’re incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve always known that. But now I get to see it up close. I’m lucky to be here with you, to be a part of your journey.”

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. The competition, the doubts, the uncertainty—it all melted away in that moment. You were no longer just a driver fighting for recognition. You were someone with a future. A future that, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel quite so lonely.

“We’ll see what happens next,” you said, your heart lighter than it had been in years. “But I’m ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Fernando nodded, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, a silent promise between the two of you.

The next race came and went, and although the rivalry remained on track, it had transformed into something deeper something that was no longer just about the competition. And when the season came to an end, it was not just your achievements that filled your thoughts, but the quiet moments shared with Fernando: the conversations after races, the supportive glances across the paddock, and the realization that you were no longer fighting alone.

In the end, it wasn’t the checkered flags or podiums that defined your journey. It was the person who stood beside you, someone who had seen you for who you were and who you could be. And for the first time, you weren’t just racing for yourself. You were racing for both of you.

[scotianostra]

On November 25th 1835 Andrew Carnegie, was born in Dunfermline.

“To try to make the world in some way better than you found it is to have a noble motive in life.” - Andrew Carnegie

Today I thought we’d look into things we might not know about Andrew Carnegie

So how rich was he really? Well in 2015, the Carnegie Corporation estimated that at his peak wealth, Carnegie was worth $309 billion (accounting for inflation). For comparison, in 2022, Elon Musk is worth about $219 billion, Jeff Bezos is worth roughly $171 billion and Bill Gates comes in at $129 billion.

“To try to make the world in some way better than you found it is to have a noble motive in life.” - Andrew Carnegie

Andrew Carnegie's philanthropic career began around 1870 in his native Dunfermline and ultimately extending throughout the English-speaking world, including the United States, Australia, and New Zealand.

In 1887, Carnegie married Louise Whitfield of New York City. She supported his philanthropy, and signed a prenuptial marriage agreement stating Carnegie’s intention of giving away virtually his entire fortune during his lifetime. Two years later he wrote The Gospel of Wealth, which boldly articulated his view of the rich as trustees of their wealth who should live without extravagance, provide moderately for their families, and use their riches to promote the welfare and happiness of others. This statement of his philosophy was read all over the world, and Carnegie's intentions were widely praised.

“The man who dies thus rich dies disgraced.” - Andrew Carnegie

In 1889, Carnegie published The Gospel of Wealth, publicly extolling his beliefs that personal wealth should be distributed for community benefit once your family’s needs were taken care of.

“The problem of our age is the proper administration of wealth, so that the ties of brotherhood may still bind together the rich and poor in harmonious relationship,” - Andrew Carnegie

Want to hear the man himself reading from his Gospel of Wealth check the link below

In 1911 Andrew Carnegie established Carnegie Corporation of New York, which he dedicated to the “advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding.” It was the last philanthropic institution founded by Carnegie and was dedicated to the principles of “scientific philanthropy,” investing in the long-term progress of our society. Carnegie himself was the first president of the Corporation, which he endowed in perpetuity with his remaining fortune — $135 million — to be used principally to promote education and international peace. While his primary aim was to benefit the people of the United States, Carnegie later determined to use a portion of the funds for members of the British Overseas Commonwealth. For the Trustees of the Corporation, he chose his longtime friends and associates, giving them permission to adapt its programs to the times. “Conditions upon the earth inevitably change,” he wrote in the Deed of Gift, “hence no wise man will bind Trustees forever to certain paths, causes or institutions…. They shall best conform to my wishes by using their own judgment.”

By the time of his death, Andrew Carnegie, despite his best efforts, had not been able to give away his entire fortune. He had distributed $350 million, but had $30 million left, which went into the Corporation’s endowment. Toward the end of his life, Carnegie, a pacifist, had a single goal: achieving world peace. He believed in the power of international laws and trusted that future conflicts could be averted through mediation. He supported the founding of the Peace Palace in The Hague in 1903, gave $10 million to found the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace in 1910 to “hasten the abolition of international war,” and worked ceaselessly for the cause until the outbreak of World War I. He died, still brokenhearted about the failure of his efforts, in August 1919, two months after the signing of the Treaty of Versailles.

Andrew Carnegie helped give the world Sesame Street -Yes really!

The Carnegie Corporation provided the American television writer and producer Joan Ganz Cooney with the funds to develop Sesame Street and the Children’s Television Workshop. According to Sherrie Westin, executive vice president of global impact and philanthropy at the Sesame Workshop, “Sesame Street literally would not be here were it not for the bold vision and audacious philanthropy of the Carnegie Corporation.”

The iconic saguaro cactus is named after him, the plant, which is found only in the Sonoran Desert in Arizona and Mexico, can live as long as 200 years and grow to be 45 feet tall. Its scientific name, Carnegiea gigantea, is a nod to Carnegie’s philanthropic contribution to botany: The Carnegie Institution, founded in 1902, helped establish the Desert Botanical Laboratory in Tucson in 1903.

One of Carnegie's major philanthropic efforts included donating 7600 of the instruments to churches across the United States. He also oversaw the installation of the 8600-pipe organ at Carnegie Music Hall in Pittsburgh in 1895 and had pipe organs in his homes in New York and Scotland.

In keeping with his wealth philosophy, Carnegie left his wife Louise a small amount of money, as well as their properties in Manhattan and Scotland, when he died. His only child, a daughter named Margaret, received nothing but a small trust. She eventually had to sell the family townhome because it was too expensive to maintain. But that was it—the rest of his immense wealth went to his charitable causes and endowments.

You might think that that would cause some resentment on the part of his heirs, but they apparently all agreed to the arrangement well before Carnegie passed away.

[eashmo]

A+ for Seduction 

Introduction:

A hot, young student named y/n meets her teacher and decides that Mr. Han Jisung was her most favorite subject in school.

Warnings: "underage", fingering blah blah just be 18+ not babysitting minors on this page.

-----

 Han Jisung was positive and determined to make this school year unforgettable. That was when y/n y/l/n walked into his classroom. She was y/h/c, y/h, and y/e/c.

y/n walks in and takes a seat at the front of the class. Jisung gulps, and his eyes move to the girl's legs, which were shown off by the shortened school uniform skirt. Y/n had felt her teacher's eyes on her ever since she stepped foot in the class and was smiling in amusement as the brunette teacher raked his chocolate brown eyes over her body. The last bell hadn't rung yet, so there were very few people in the class. Y/n clears her throat, and Jisung eyes snap up to her face.

Red spreads across Jisung's cheeks, and she smirks as she crosses her arms, accentuating her chest where a fair amount of cleavage is showing. He inevitably flicks his eyes to Y/n's cleavage before back up to her enrapturing y/e/c. She scoffs at the thought of how easy it was to get her teacher's attention. The bell rings, and Jisung tears his eyes away from the teen's enticing young body to watch the last few student floods through the door. He stands up and walks to the front of his desk with a stack of syllabus. He starts to hand them out as he begins his introduction.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Han Jisung. You may call me Mr. H if you would like, right now I am passing out the syllabus for this semester."

By the time he finishes his sentence, he is in front of y/n handing her a stack of papers to pass back. Y/n gives him a toothy smile before stretching an arm back to pass the rest of the papers. The stretch caused her breasts to press against her cotton white button-up, and Jisung cleared his throat before walking back in front of his desk, a heat burning within him.

"As I hope you all know, this is Korean History 101. We will be learning all of the units on your syllabus and testing on them. You do need to have your paper signed by a parent, and if they have any questions, they can schedule a meeting or email me. My email is also on the paper. Any questions?"

His eyes scan over the class for any raised hands, and his eyes connect with y/n's before moving back to the room.

"No? Good. For the first day, we are going to be going around and introducing ourselves. Say your full name, your favorite subject, and your hobby. Starting with the front row and working our way back. You, go first."

He says while pointing to a boy with dark hair in the front row. He seems to hesitate before answering.

"I'm Yang Jeong-in, but you can call me I.N. My favorite subject is applied music and I like listening to rock and pop songs and watching mukbangs. "

Jisung nods his head and smiles.

"Nice to meet you, I.N. Next."

From there on out, they went across the front row until it reached Y/n. She sits up straight in her seat and smiles seductively at her teacher, who seems to fluster slightly under her gaze.

"I'm y/n . My favorite subject is y/f/s"

She brings the end of her pen up to her mouth and teases it across her lips as she holds the stare she has with Jisung. His heart jumps at the sight of her pen against her lips before smiling at her.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. And behind y/n is?"

Jisung looks behind y/n, and as the boy behind her starts talking, he looks back to her. She smirks and sends her teacher a dangerous yet salacious wink. Jisung's heart jumps into his throat, and he gulps before diverting his attention to the next student who had started their introduction. He manages to get through the rest of the introductions without looking back to y/n. He looks at the clock and walks back around his desk.

"You have 10 minutes left of class. Feel free to come ask me questions and relax until the bell rings."

He sits down at his desk and slides out his phone. Y/n keeps her eyes on her teacher as she bites her lip and slides down in her seat. Jisung notices the movement, and he glances up to y/n. She smiles and licks her bottom lip slowly. Jisung swallows and sits up in his seat. He narrows his eyes at y/n before raising an eyebrow. Y/n chuckles softly and stands up.

Oh, shit.

Y/n walks to his desk and puts her hands on the edge of Jisung's desk and leaning forward slightly, her cleavage shown clearly in the white button-up. She smiles sweetly at him.

"I have a question, sir?"

Jisung smiles back, stressing not to look at the teen's cleavage.

"What's your question, Ms. Y/l/n?”

Jisung asks as he sets down his phone.

"Well, I was wondering how old you were?"

He smirks and lets out a small laugh.

"Do you often ask your teachers their age?"

Y/n  smile grows, and she bites her lip. Jisung raises an eyebrow for her answer.

"Umm, not usually. You just look so young."

She compliments seductively. Jisung blushes slightly and smiles.

"For the compliment, I will tell you. I'm 30. Is that all you need?"

He asks with a tilt of his head. She smiles and shakes her head.

"Between you and me, Mr. H?...You're so too sexy to be a teacher. You are more like an idol.

Y/n whispers with a wink before turning and going back to her desk. Jisung jaw dropped at her words. Was his student hitting on him? Jisung jumps when the bell rings. He watches his students file out of the classroom and looks back to the room to see y/n still putting her books in her bag. Y/n shrugs her messenger bag onto her shoulder and looks up at him. She smiles and makes her way to the door with him, keeping his eyes trained on her.

"Have a good day, Mr. Han"

Jisung  blinks a few times before returning the smile.

"Yes. You to y/n."

he  responds, and before he can say anything else, she winks and walks out the door. When the door closes, he lets out a soft sigh and relaxes back into his chair. What the hell was he supposed to do?

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

"Everyone In your seats."

Jisung barks as he walks into his class. Today was not a good day. His first two classes were loud and annoying, and his third class had even gone far enough to disrupt other classes in the hallway. Thankfully, the fourth and the sixth class had been decent, and it was finally the seventh bell.

"This assignment is due tomorrow at the beginning of class. You have the whole class to work on it. You may work with a partner and listen to music on your phones. If someone's music is too loud, then that privilege will be taken away. Start now."

He says as he passes out the packets. Some of the students grumble, and he even hears one mumble 'asshole', but he ignores it and hands the last stack of papers to y/n. She smiles sweetly, and he musters up a small smile to give her. He moves back behind his desk and sits down. He starts grading papers from his other classes.

"Mr. H?"

Jisung looks up to see Jisoo, one of his students.

"I need help on a question?"

Jisoo asks shyly. Jisung stands up and walks to Jisoo's left side and bends slightly over the table to look at the question she was talking about. Y/n bites her lip as she realizes her teacher's crotch was next to her. A small groan escapes her lips before she can stop herself. Jisung talks Jisoo through the question, and only when he hears a soft groan below him does he realize y/n sits right next to jisoo.

Jisung quickly finishes explaining the question and chances a glance below him as he stands upright. Y/N was staring hard at his crotch. and Jisung gulped before walking back to his desk. When he sits down, he looks at y/n and goes red when she is biting her lip.

Christ. She is a sinful little thing.

Jisung looks away and takes a breath or two to calm himself from getting hard. How the hell could he react this way to one of his students? Someone clears their throat, and Jisung hesitates before looking up at Y/N. She was holding up her notebook.

He looks back to her eyes and furrows his brow. She smiles and turns the notebook around, and scribbles down something else before turning it to her teacher again.

You in those pants...

He gasps softly and looks back to her. She smirks and puts her notebook down. Despite his efforts, he could help but feel a heat start between his legs. She had been staring at him without shame. He looks around the room and is relieved when he sees the rest of his students working on the packet. He looks back to her and narrows his eyes.

"Y/N. Come to my desk please."

A few students raise their heads but go back to work just as quickly. Y/n stands up and walks to Jisung's desk with a small smile. When she reaches his desk, he gives her a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing?"

Y/n hides her smirk and furrows her brow in fake confusion.

"What do you mean, Mr. Han?"

He sighs and licks his lips, and she watches his tongue peek out until it's gone again.

"I mean...I...you...go back to your seat y/n."

Jisung silently groans as he leans back in his seat. Y/n smirks and walks back to her seat, swaying her hips. He helplessly watches her ass until she sits back in her seat. He sits up and distracts himself with grading papers until the bell rings.

"That's homework if you didn't finish today."

He reminds his students and continues to grade papers.

"Mr. Han?"

Jisung looks up and meets y/n. He musters up a small smile.

"What can I do for you, y/n?"

She gives him a charming smile.

"I need help on the fifth question."

Jisung nods his head.

"Okay. Why don't you show me what you're not getting?"

She moves around his desk until she is standing next to his chair. She puts the packet down on the table and turns to the fifth question. She makes up some crap about not understanding it, and Jisung goes into full-blown teaching mode. When he is finally finished, he turns his face up to hers. He hadn't realized how close they were until now, but god helped him. He just couldn't move away.

she licks her lips as she stares at his lips.

"I think I get it now."

Y/n breathes out. Jisung gulps and bites his lip, nodding his head slightly as he stares at her lips.

"G-great."

Jisung stutters quickly. Y/n looks into Jisung's eyes and sees the lust hidden there. The tension between them only thickens when she leans closer. Jisung's heartbeat practically skyrockets when suddenly he leans forward and presses his lips to hers. She doesn't hesitate to reciprocate and moves her lips against his. He lets himself go, really lets himself go. He turns his chair to face his student and tentatively lays his hands on the girl's slim hips. Y/n moans softly and brushes her teacher's lip for entrance with her tongue. Jisung gives her access and spreads his legs enough to pull her in between them. They explore each other's mouths with questioning swipes of their tongues. Y/n moves her hands into his hair and kisses him harder with a soft moan. The moan only prompts Jisung further into his dangerous actions. His hands drift down past her skirt to the smooth skin on the back of her thighs. He gives the limbs a firm squeeze, and she lets out a loud moan into his mouth. Y/n suddenly steps even closer and climbs on top of him with her knees planted on either side of his thighs her cunt lands right on his now painful hard on. Jisung practically growls, and his hands slide further up her skirt until his hands rest on her cute ass to find her wearing a thong. Jisung can't help but squeeze the firm ass in his hands. y/n whimpers, and that's when Jisung comes back to earth. He pulls both his hands and lips away from her with a gasp.

"Oh fuck."

Jisung pants out. Y/n looks down at her teacher and licks her lips. Jisung pulls his hands back.

"I-I am so sorry y/n. I don't know what came over me. That was such a mistake."

Y/n suddenly leans down and captures Jisung's lips in a kiss. He lets out a surprised moan, and she pulls away.

"Listen, Mr. H, the kiss sure as hell wasn't one-sided, and once you realize it wasn't as big of a mistake as you think it is, come find me."

Y/n gets off of her stunned teacher and grabs her bag and packet. She reaches the door and turns around.

"Have a good day, Mr. Han."

She says with a smirk and a wink before slipping out the door. Jisung takes a deep breath. He kissed and groped his student, and his student had no problem with it. Obviously, it was wrong, and even though she was 18, it was still illegal considering his job. But God damn it, the way her skin felt and her tongue in his mouth. It was exciting and exhilarating. Especially with the chance of being caught. A shiver goes down his spine. He sighs and gets back to grading papers, his mind on her.

~~~~~~~~

Jisung had time to himself to plan some study packets. Mr. Wang, who was the Chinese history teacher, needed to use his classroom since Jackson's classroom was closed for maintenance, so he was in his office across the hall. A knock at the door pulls him away from the papers. He opened the door, and none other than y/n was standing at his door with a gorgeous sultry smile. Jisung's breath catches in his throat.

Y/n smiles wider and looks past her teacher into the office, then back to him.

"Can I come in?"

He simply steps back, not trusting himself, to say anything, and lets her inside. He shuts the door and leans against it, facing her staring at her ass she walked around his office. She sets down her bag and tilts her head to the side.

"Have you thought about yesterday?"

"It was a mistake, y/n."

He sees her face fall in disappointment and hurt she looks away from him. Before he knows it, more words are coming out of his mouth.

"But that doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it."

She snaps her head up at him with bright doe eyes. He recognizes lust in her eyes, and he is positive he has the same darkness in his eyes. He couldn't help but rake his eyes down her body. She looked so hot in her uniform. she takes a step forward and licks her lips.

"So you did think about it?"

 His blood was racing through his veins, and his palms itched to touch her velvety skin again.

"Yes. Did you?"

"Most definitely”

She takes a smaller step forward and slowly raises a hand to his toned chest. Jisung's breathing becomes heavier.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

She whispers. He mindlessly nods his head, she slowly raises on to her toes. her lips level with his ear.

"I touched myself all night thinking about you."

The growl she hears in her ear makes her instantly wet, and she brushes her lips against his jaw as she flexes her fingers down his chest. Jisung groans as the image of a completely naked y/n lying on her bed with one hand between her legs, the other gripping the bed sheets, and her back arched pops into his head. Fuck 

"I touched myself thinking about your hands on my ass and your lips pressed against mine and you filling me up on your desk”

Jisung groans as she reaches up with her other hand and cups his cheek. She pulls him into a feverish kiss. Jisung moans and kisses her back with the same force. Y/n brings her hands up to his hair and buries her fingers in his soft locks. Jisung roughly grabs her hips. Y/n presses her body fully against Jisung's, which elicits a deep growl from him. Jisung blindly reaches behind him and locks the door before moving off it and stumbling with y/n over to his desk.

Books tumble off his desk, but neither of them cares. He cups her firm ass and gives it a rough squeeze, delighted to feel she was wearing nothing underneath. She squeals and smiles into the kiss. He roughly pulls her head back by her hair and takes the opportunity to thrust his tongue into her mouth, making the teen moan loudly. Y/n hands wander down to his chest and cupped her teacher's hard dick through his pants. Jisung lets out a strangled moan and breaks the kiss. She reaches for Jisung's shirt and quickly unbuttons it. Jisung flings it to the side.

Jisung catches his breath and moves his fingers to hers, ripping it off, buttons Flying everywhere. She had picked out a black lacy bra. Jisung lets out another growl at the beautiful sight in front of him. The ache between his legs was becoming almost painful. He needed release so badly. He spins her around and bends her over his desk. She lets out a small gasp of surprise when she hears the unbuckling of a belt then Jisung sits  down in his desk chair bringing y/n with him, her pussy immediately swallowing his dick. They both let out an air moan, Jisung  moves his mouth to her neck as his hands trail up her stomach to cup the girl's breasts. Y/n moans and lets her head fall back on his shoulders as she rocks on his dick. 

"Fuck."

Y/n whispers and moves her hands to her clit as he starts to pound her pussy, her upper half banging against the desk. There is a loud thump of books falling to the ground but neither of them cares, again. all while his lips are pressing firm hot kisses to y/n's neck. Suddenly there's a knock on the door and they freeze.

"Mr. Han, are you alright in there?"

Jisung gasps. It was the teacher next door. Jisung pulls out from Y/n. They huff softly from the lost of the connection, and he tuck himself back into his pants as he looks for his shirt.

"Uh, yes! Yes, Mrs. Hensley. A few of my, uh, books fell. That's all."

Y/n pulls on her shirt and quickly tries to cover up, but Jisung receives a small glare from y/n because he destroyed her shirt. 

“Sorry”

He softly says as he grimaces as he pulls one of his spares quickly from his small closet. 

"Do you want some help?"

The teacher that is still on the other side of the door offers nicely. He quickly tucks in his buttoned shirt and fixes his hair. He opens the door and peeks his head out before standing in front of the door with a sweet smile.

"I just have a clumsy student in there. She keeps knocking over my books."

Y/n hears him cover up and stifles a laugh. An idea pops into her head, and she moves away from the door. Jisung laughs, and Mrs. Hensley joins in.

"I've had a few of those. Good luck."

Jisung smiles and waves as she walks down the hallway. He slides back in the room and closes the door. He turns around and lets out a breath and closes his eyes as he leans against the door. His heart finally seems to settle down when y/n pipes up again.

"Mr. Han?"

Jisung opens his eyes and raises his eyebrows and drops his jaw at the sight of y/n still on his desk with her shirt open and skirt hiked up higher on her thighs giving a cheeky view of her pussy. Y/n smiles and leans back on one hand.

"Would you like to continue?"

Jisung closes his mouth and silently nods his head, the fire quickly reinstated in his groin. He walks to her and puts his hands on her thighs. Y/n leans back on her other hand, silently offering herself to him. Jisung leans forward and right when his lips are centimeters away from hers, the bell rings. She grits her teeth and groans, making him chuckle softly.

"You have to go. I have a classes to teach and you have to go to class."

Jisung whispers against her lips before pulling away and starting to button her borrowed shirt.

"Fine. I'll see you at 7th"

Y/n huffs as she jumps off the desk. She grabs her bag and starts to walk to the door before turning back to him. Y/n wraps her arm around his waist and pulls him to her, and kisses him firmly on the lips. He moans in surprise and kisses her back. When she pulls away, they are both panting softly. Jisung looks at her surprised and she gives him a smile.

"I wanted to give you something to think about when you teach your classes"

Y/n pulls away and leaves the room with a wink. Jisung shakes his head free of the memories as the bell signaling the start of 2nd. He crosses the hall into his classroom. He collects the packets he passed out yesterday and hands out a new paper, and teaches them through a couple of the questions. He lets them work on it for the rest of the class and doesn't assign it as homework when the bell rings.

Even during teaching, his mind had always fluttered back to y/n for a few seconds. He leaned back in his chair with his legs spread and his pen against his lips staring at a paper but thinking of y/n. Jisung pictures y/n's hand sliding into his shirt, her hands gently grazing his abs...or maybe teasing to touch his length ...her eyes doe like as he takes her mouth. Y/n walks into her 7th bell to see no one else in the classroom, but her teacher, with his eyes, glazed over, staring at a paper. Y/n moves quietly to her teacher's desk. He still doesn't look up, so Y/n clears her throat. At the sudden noise, Jisung jerks his head up and is torn from his daydream. He looks up to a smirking y/n, and he knows he's been caught.

"What are you thinking about, sir?"

Jisung bites his lip. A few students come into the classroom, and he manages to compose himself.

"Go to your seat, Ms. Y/l/n."

Jisung clears her throat. Y/n's smirk only deepens, and she leans forward.

"Anything for you sir"

She whispers and smiles as the lust deepens on his face. Y/n moves to her seat and studies her flustered teacher until class starts. Jisung collects their packets and gets a discreet wink from y/n, which in turn earns a disapproving look from him. Jisung does as he did with his other classes and teaches a few of the questions before sitting at his desk for the rest of them to do. He gets on his phone and scrolls through his Instagram feed.

"Mr. Han, I have a question."

Jisung looks up and finds a smirking Y/n. Why wasn't he surprised? He moves back his chair and motions for her to step around his desk.

"What question?

Y/n sets down her paper to reveal a notebook paper on top.

Do I have to guess what you were thinking about?

Jisung holds back a smile and clears his throat as y/n points to a random spot on the page.

"This one. I don't understand what it means."

She asks with a confused look on her face. He barely stops from rolling his eyes and grabs a pen from his desk.

Jisung scribbles down before fake, explaining a question quietly to y/n . Why was he going along with this? She smiles and nods her head in fake understanding.

"Ah, I see. What about that part?"

She asks another fake question as she writes down something else. Of course, she wouldn't stop, he thinks.

"Were you imagining my hands on you? Or my pussy that fits perfectly on your dick?"

Jisung clamps a hand on his growing dick under his desk at the image of y/n crying out as she gets pounded on his desk. Y/N continues writing.

"My pussy, I can tell by the way you are getting hard. Give me your number."

Jisung gives her a confused look when she writes the last part. She offers him the pen.

"Can you write it for me? Please."

Y/n whispers with a smile. He hesitates, but before he knows it, he is grabbing the pen and writing down his number. Y/n picks up her papers.

"Thank you sir. I get it now."

Y/n walks back to her desk and sits down. She's barely in her seat when she brings out her phone and sends a text to her nervous teacher. Jisung's phone buzzes in his hands, signaling a new message, and he opens it. His eyes go wide, and he looks up to find y/n who was smirking at him. He had expected Y/n to at least wait until after school. He looks back to the message.

“Hi teach (;”

Jisung bites his lip and responds.

“hey dork”

He chuckles a little as he sends it and sees her scoff. He gets a new message. He opens it immediately.

“Sir, I want to be on my knees in front of you. I want to touch you with my hands, lips, and tongue so bad I want to swallow every drop you give me. Will you let me?”

Jisung nearly chokes and stares wide-eyed at Y/n, who simply raises an eyebrow. His phone buzzes again.

Jisung gulps and closes his eyes for a brief second. What the hell was he doing? This is his student. Jisung looks back to his phone.

“Ms. Y/L/N I honestly don't know why I kissed you or fucked you. It was wrong. I could lose my job. We have to stop this.”

Jisung doesn't look at her this time and waits for a reply. Buzzz!

“Oh, Mr. Han, I know why you kissed me and fucked me. You wanted too. I wanted you too. It felt so good and perfect and it was hot. I know you felt it too, the lust, people don't growl for no reason when you kiss them. You want me. Why else would you give me your cell number? You have the power to stop Mr. Han, you just don't want to.”

Y/n was completely right he didn't want to stop. He wanted to have her in every way possible. He sets down his phone and chews on his bottom lip for a few seconds. Yes, he was afraid of getting caught, but the flames in his stomach felt good. Jisung grabs his phone.

“Call me Jisung and see me after class babygirl.”

He looks up to gauge y/ns reaction. Y/n blushes at the pet name he called her and sends another dangerous wink to her teacher. Jisung holds back a smile and sets down his phone. They get through the class without too many looks to each other. When the bell rings, Jisung informs them it's not homework and they file out of class with a smile. All except one, y/n. She hangs back in her seat until the door clicks shut. Y/n gets up from her seat, and he watches her move to his desk. She bites her lip and smiles.

"So you said you wanted to see me...Mr. Han."

Jisung stands up from his seat and moves to the door. He locks it before looking back to y/n. He walks towards her with a purpose. It takes seconds after touching each other for their lips to crash together. Jisung moans and immediately moves one of his hands to one of her ass cheeks, and the other to her throat, he squeezes both. Y/n whimpers and fists her hands in his button-up shirt to pull him closer. Jisung finds himself moving her against the closest available wall. Y/n groans as her back hits the wall hard. Jisung doesn't wait to get right to it and slides his hand that was on her ass underneath her skirt right to her bare pussy. She moans and kisses her teacher harder. He takes that as a green light rubs her clit slowly. 

"Take off your shirt."

Jisung whispers against her lips. She quickly complies as he re-attaches their lips. Jisung moves his finger lazily on her clit. Y/n stops unbuttoning her shirt and throws her head back with a strangled moan. Jisung smirks and quickly unbuttons the rest of her shirt. He grabs one of her hands and interlocks their fingers and pushes their hands above their heads against the wall. Y/n other hand come up to his shoulder, digging her nails into the cloth of white button up shirt. He pulls away just slightly as his finger dips down her wetness. God, she was drenched.

"Fuck, you're so wet kitten"

Jisung whispers against her lips. Y/n grits her teeth to hold back a moan when her teacher pushes one finger easily into her. Jisung starts pumping his finger in and out of y/n's cunt. Her eyes roll back in her head and she groans loudly. He moves his lips to her neck and nips at her skin. She moans and thrusts down on his finger.

"More...please"

She whispers. Jisung moves his lips farther down her neck to her chest as he pulls out his finger.

"Are you sure you can take 3?"

Jisung whispers uncertainty. Y/n groans loudly and opens her eyes to send him a glare.

"Finger Fuck me already."

With that, Jisung lunges forward and crashes his lips to hers with a groan. He couldn't imagine sexier words coming from her beautiful mouth. He gently thrusts three fingers inside of her, who in turn struggles to hold back a loud moan. giving her time to adjust before quickly pumping in and out of her. She lets out a breathy gasp.

"Fuck...yes- oh god Jisung- Yes."

She breathes out against his lips. Jisung smiles and thrusts even harder, making her moan loudly. bringing his lips to her ear.

"Y/n,...we're going to be forced...to cut...this short if you don't be...quiet."

Jisung pants into y/n's ear. She lets out a chuckle before it is covered with another moan. She arches against the wall. Jisung suddenly releases the hand he had pinned to the wall and covers her mouth.

"Is my girl misbehaving? Is she Not listening to her teacher? Should she get punished?"

he moves his wrist and presses his thumb to her clit, hard. She lets out a defeated whimper as she nods yes and arches higher. Her hips buck and grind furiously on his digits. She lets out loud moans and groans that are only stopped by his hand clamped over her mouth, she sucks his thumb in the process to keep herself quiet as Jisung's own mouth travels up and down her neck. Y/n starts to buck wildly as her orgasm approaches. Jisung recognizes the need in her thrusts and moans and moves his mouth back to her ear.

“Don't you fuck dare cum, baby, you've been a bad girl”

She whimpers and pleds As he continues to assault her pussy.

“Please Jisung, I promise..”

“Promise what, princess?”

“I promise to be a good little girl for you” she sobs.

"Cum for me y/n Come on, be a good girl and  Cum for me."

She gasps softly at the term of endearment, but her thoughts quickly transfer back to Jisung's hand between her legs. As quick as lightning and heavenly orgasm is on her. Waves of pleasure rock her body as she whimpers softly. Jisung leaves light kisses on her neck and shoulders as she comes down from her high.

"You did so well babygirl" he slides his hand off of her mouth and leaves a gentle kiss on her lips.

Y/ns eyes flutter open, and she smiles softly. Jisung eases his fingers out of y/n wet pussy and licks them clean, moaning softly at the taste of her. He smiles at her and pulls away to grab a few tissues. He wipes off his hand and cleans her up as well. Once the two are presentable Jisung sits back in his seat and y/n grabs her bag.

"So..."

Jisung looks at her. 

"We shouldn't-"

She interrupts him swiftly.

"Jisung, no offense but if you say this was a mistake I will seriously punch you. You made me cum so fucking hard I'm actually a little shaky. That is not a mistake."

Jisung couldn't help but let out an airy chuckle, Y/n blushed and walked to her teacher.

"Tell me this was not a mistake, Jisung." She says with a vulnerable smile and a tilt of her head. Jisung smiles.

"This was most definitely not a mistake, y/n."

She smiles in return and leans up. He tilts her chin up with one finger and kisses her so tenderly. she hums softly against his lips. She pulls away.

"I'll see you tomorrow Mr. Han."

Blowing him a kiss as she unlocks the door before walking out of the room.

"Look forward to it babygirl" he says quietly with a smirk on his face. 

Yeah, this year is definitely going to be an unforgettable one. 

~END~

[idkyetxoxo]

Nine | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3315

Warnings - None

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The next morning greeted me with a dull ache in my head and the sensation of fabric clinging awkwardly to my skin. 

I blinked awake, realizing I was still in the dress from the night before, hair a tangled mess, but at least I had made it to my own bed. 

As I rubbed my temples, groaning at the fragments of memories swirling in my mind, the sound of bustling footsteps filled the room, my handmaidens already moving with their usual efficiency.

"Did you have fun last night, Princess?" Adryana chirped, far too cheerful for the state I was in as she threw open the curtains. 

Sunlight spilt in like a tidal wave, flooding the room in blinding brightness.

I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. "Not so loud," I mumbled, but my complaint only earned laughter from her and the others. 

Despite my groaning protests, they set to work, easing me into a cool bath, scrubbing away the remnants of the night. The water was refreshing, reviving me bit by bit, washing away the exhaustion and too much wine.

By the time I was dressed and ready, Alaric was already at my side, shadowing me like always as I made my way downstairs for breakfast.

The dining hall greeted me with the sight of my father sitting at the table, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, and Nymor slouched miserably beside him, his head buried in his hands. 

Clearly, I wasn't the only one suffering from the effects of the night.

I planted a quick kiss on my father's cheek and ruffled Nymor's hair as I passed, settling into my seat with a sigh.

"How was the celebration, my love?" my father asked, eyes gleaming with curiosity as I gratefully reached for the cool water in front of me, letting it soothe my parched throat.

"It was wonderful," I replied with a small smile. "More beautiful than any year before."

My father nodded, clearly pleased, but I couldn't resist teasing Nymor. 

"I barely saw you all night," I quipped, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing full well he'd been lost somewhere in the wine and revelry.

Nymor lifted his head just enough to glare at me through bleary eyes. "Maybe that's because you only had eyes for that Targaryen prince," he muttered, his voice thick with irritation.

The playful atmosphere shifted instantly. His words struck a nerve, my smile fading as a pang of guilt tugged at my chest.

I glanced at my father, who was now watching me with a cautious expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a sharp look. 

"Don't," I warned quietly, unwilling to turn this into a discussion. Thankfully, he seemed to understand and closed his mouth again.

Nymor, however, wasn't so easily deterred. He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape, standing abruptly, casting me one last pointed look before storming out of the hall.

"Nymor!" I called after him, but he was already gone. 

Frustration bubbled up inside me as I ran a hand through my freshly brushed hair, my pulse quickening with the need to fix this. I couldn't let things end like that between us.

Without another thought, I stood and quickly followed him, determined to make things right.

It didn't take long to find myself outside his chambers, pounding on the heavy wooden door. "Nymor, open up!" I demanded, my patience wearing thin. 

When there was no response, I leaned my forehead against the door, sighing. "Don't make me get Alaric to break it down."

A pause. Then, a faint click of the lock.

I slipped inside to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, his expression guarded and closed off.

I sat down beside him, the bed dipping slightly under my weight. "Are you upset with me?" I asked, keeping my voice soft, almost tentative.

Nymor didn't answer right away. He leaned back on his hands, staring at the floor. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. 

"You swore you'd never even speak to a Targaryen, let alone fall for one." His tone was filled with disbelief, as though he couldn't reconcile the girl who once spat their name with the one sitting beside him now.

I sighed, the weight of my own confusion pressing down on me. "Nymor, he's not like the others," I said softly, knowing how empty the words must sound to him.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "What is this then? Do you love him?" The question was sharp, cutting like he couldn't believe it might be true.

My heart stilled. Love? The word hung between us, heavy, charged. I hesitated, the truth trembling on the edge of my lips. And then, quietly, almost to myself, I whispered, "I think so."

The room seemed to freeze. Nymor's head snapped toward me, shock etched into every line of his face. He hadn't expected me to say it, maybe hadn't even expected me to realize it. 

And yet, here it was, a confession, unbidden and undeniable.

I felt my pulse quicken, my hand reaching out to entwine my fingers with his. 

"I can't help how I feel," I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. "I've tried to forget him, but no matter where I am or what I'm doing, he's always there. In my thoughts, in my heart..."

Nymor's fingers tightened around mine, the war between loyalty and betrayal playing out clearly in his eyes. He was silent for a long moment before his shoulders sagged, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I'm going to miss you." There was no anger now, just a quiet, vulnerable truth.

My throat tightened at his words. "I'm going to miss you more," I admitted, feeling the bittersweet sting of what this meant for us—for the bond we'd always shared. 

We had been inseparable for as long as I could remember, and the thought of not having him by my side every day felt like losing a part of myself.

I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, though the ache in my chest told me it was futile. "But I'll come back. I promise, Nymor. I won't let too much time pass between us. You know that, right?"

He tried to smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You better. The castle's going to feel empty without you."

I laughed softly, though there was a bittersweetness lacing my voice. "You'll manage. Besides, you've got Yoren and Meric to keep you company."

He snorted, shaking his head. "As if they could ever replace you."

With that, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him into a fierce embrace. For a moment, he hesitated, then hugged me back tightly, the way he always had—protective, strong. 

We clung to each other, both of us knowing that this moment was a farewell of sorts, even if we didn't say the words aloud.

"I'll write to you," I whispered against his shoulder, my voice thick with emotion. "And when I come back, we'll pick up right where we left off."

He nodded, his hold on me tightening as if trying to hold on to this moment a little longer. "You better not forget that promise," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

"I won't," I vowed, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "No matter what happens, no matter how far I go, I'll always come back to you."

We sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, the silence between us filled with the weight of unspoken promises. 

And as we finally pulled apart, I knew that nothing—not distance, not time—could ever truly break the bond we shared.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The sun bathed the courtyard in a golden warmth, casting long shadows over the stone as I reclined lazily on a cushioned bench, drink in hand, and watched my brother and his friends pretend to train. 

Their swords clanged, but the effort was half-hearted, the clinks of steel punctuated by laughter and jest. 

What had started as an exercise in discipline had quickly dissolved into gossip and posturing, their so-called practice nothing more than an excuse to rehash the night's mischief.

I swirled my wine, half-amused by their antics, half-bored by the predictability of it all. 

My brother Nymor, always the ringleader, was at the centre of the group, gesturing dramatically as Meric and Yoren egged him on. 

They were acting like children, and I was content to watch the spectacle unfold—until Yoren broke away from the pack, swaggering over with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"And what about you, Princess?" he asked, voice teasing as he wagged his eyebrows. His grin was as suggestive as ever, causing Nymor and Meric to snicker behind him.

I met his gaze without missing a beat, a playful smirk curling at my lips. 

"No one," I lied smoothly, taking a sip of wine with all the nonchalance I could muster. Yoren's face fell into an exaggerated pout, though the twinkle in his eye remained.

"Oh, come now, Princess. You can't expect us to believe that" Meric chimed in, abandoning his sword to join the interrogation.

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "There's nothing to tell," I insisted, though the smug look on my face probably gave me away. 

It was a game we played too often—this little dance where they pried and I denied, giving just enough to stoke their curiosity.

Yoren leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. 

"Are you sure it wasn't your ever-vigilant protector again?" he asked with a grin, nodding subtly in the direction of Alaric, who stood nearby, stoic as ever.

I gasped, swatting him across the chest with mock outrage. "You're impossible, Yoren!" I exclaimed, but the grin I wore betrayed the amusement I couldn't hide. 

Alaric remained as impassive as a statue, but I could have sworn I saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth at the mention of his name.

"You three are absolutely shameless," I muttered, crossing my arms as they exchanged mischievous glances.

Nymor raised his hands in a gesture of innocence, his expression feigning shock. "I didn't even say anything!" he protested, but the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

"Guilt by association," I shot back, crossing my arms and taking another sip, my gaze narrowing playfully at the lot of them. Their laughter rang out in response, unabashed and carefree.

Meric, ever the cheeky one, slung an arm around Nymor's shoulders, shaking his head. "We can't help it, Princess. You're just too easy to tease."

I sighed dramatically, setting my glass down with a flourish. "One of these days, you'll run out of gossip," I said with a smirk, "and when you do, I'll be the one laughing."

Yoren chuckled, nudging me lightly. "We just want to make sure you're having fun too, you know."

I gave him a playful pinch on the cheek. "Oh, darling, I am the epitome of fun. In fact, there's no one in this kingdom who knows how to have more fun than I do."

Nymor snorted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That's true. No one can keep up with you, sister."

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a sultry whisper, drawing them all closer like moths to a flame. Their eyes widened with anticipation, hanging on my every word. 

"But if you must know," I said, drawing out the moment, savouring their eagerness, "there may have been a carriage involved last night."

The revelation hung in the air like sweet, forbidden fruit, just tantalizing enough to ignite their imaginations. 

Meric's grin stretched wide across his face, eyes twinkling with mischief. "A carriage?" he drawled, wagging his eyebrows. "Scandalous, Princess."

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder as if it were the most casual thing in the world. 

I loved these moments, feeding them just enough to keep them guessing, watching them scramble to piece together the rest.

But before the teasing could continue, a voice interrupted from behind. "Princess."

I turned, and my breath caught for a split second as I saw Aemond and Helaena approaching. Aemond's presence was as commanding as ever, his single eye fixed on me with a calm intensity, while Helaena's smile, soft and unassuming, immediately lightened the mood.

"Aemond," I said, his name slipping from my lips before I could stop myself. I recovered quickly, offering Helaena a warm smile. "And Helaena. It's always lovely to see you."

"May we join you?" Helaena asked, her voice lilting with the soft politeness I adored.

"Of course," I gestured to the bench beside me, though my heart was racing at Aemond's presence, my usual fire momentarily dimmed under the weight of his gaze.

Yoren and Meric exchanged glances, eyebrows raised as they watched me—the sharp-tongued, playful princess—suddenly become uncharacteristically composed.

Helaena, ever oblivious to the tension, looked around at the swords scattered on the ground. "What were you all talking about?"

Before anyone could answer, Meric, with his usual lack of tact, began, "The princess was just about to tell us how—"

I pinched his leg, making him yelp and earning myself a wounded look. 

"Just how much fun last night's celebration was," I interrupted smoothly, throwing a quick, warning glance at Nymor, who wisely stayed silent.

Helaena, thankfully, took my answer at face value, her curiosity sated. But Aemond's gaze lingered on me, sharp and unreadable, as if he could see through the carefully constructed facade I wore.

In an attempt to change the subject, I asked, "And where is Aegon this morning? Still sleeping off his indulgences, I assume?"

Helaena laughed softly, her tone both amused and exasperated. "As always. He had quite the night."

Aemond's gaze flickered across the abandoned swords, his single, sharp eye taking in the remnants of Yoren and Meric's half-hearted attempt at training. 

The gossip and laughter that had replaced sparring seemed to amuse him, though he kept his expression impassive, ever the picture of controlled restraint. 

He turned towards Nymor, a faint challenge simmering beneath the cool civility of his voice.

"May I join you?" he asked, though his tone made it sound less like a question and more like a test.

For a moment, Nymor hesitated, glancing in my direction as if seeking silent counsel. I tensed, bracing myself for what I was certain would be Nymor's typical sharp refusal, the same one he reserved for anyone who crossed into his personal territory—especially Aemond. 

I could practically feel the air thicken with tension, my fingers curling into the fabric of my dress in anticipation.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Nymor gave a slow, measured nod, his voice calm and even. "Of course," he said, surprising us all. "We could use another pair of hands."

I blinked, stunned by the absence of sarcasm or barbed undertones. No mocking smile, no cutting remark. Just a simple, earnest acceptance that left me momentarily speechless. 

Aemond, too, seemed caught off guard—his face remained impassive, but I saw the faintest flicker of surprise in his eye. It was fleeting, but it was there.

It was a small gesture, but one that rippled through me like a quiet thrill. I realized, in that moment, that Nymor's nod was more than an agreement—it was an olive branch. 

A tentative truce, silently acknowledging that perhaps Aemond wasn't as unwelcome as he had once been. My heart swelled at the thought.

As the boys moved toward the training area, I found myself settling back on the bench beside Helaena, attempting to refocus my attention on our conversation. But it was no use. 

My gaze kept drifting back to Aemond and Nymor, their swords raised, steel catching the glint of the afternoon sun as they squared off.

Nymor tested Aemond's reflexes with a series of quick, precise strikes—each one calculated, probing. But Aemond countered effortlessly, every movement deliberate, honed by years of discipline. 

There was a quiet intensity about him, a controlled ferocity that made it impossible to look away.

"They look good together, don't they?" Helaena's soft voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back into the present. 

I nodded absently, still watching Aemond with a kind of fascination I couldn't quite explain. 

There was something mesmerizing in the way he fought—graceful, yet relentless. His focus was razor-sharp, each step, each swing of his sword, executed with deadly precision.

"Yes," I murmured, my voice distant. "I didn't expect Nymor to agree."

Helaena smiled, a knowing glint in her eye. "Your brother is stubborn," she said, her tone gentle, "but he's not blind. He knows you care about Aemond, and that's enough for him to make an effort."

Her words hung between us, soft yet weighty with unspoken understanding. I swallowed, the warmth of her insight sinking deep into my chest.

Before I could respond, a sharp clang of steel drew my attention back to the sparring match. 

Nymor and Aemond were locked in a rapid exchange of blows, neither one yielding an inch. But there was no hostility in their movements—no anger or resentment, just a shared respect that hadn't been there before. 

Nymor was testing Aemond, and Aemond was rising to the challenge without hesitation, matching him strike for strike.

With every pass of their swords, I could feel the tension between them easing, a tentative camaraderie beginning to form in the heat of battle. 

It was a dance of sorts—each blow, each parry, a step toward mutual understanding.

"It's odd, isn't it?" I mused aloud, more to myself than to Helaena. "Seeing them like this."

Helaena nodded, her smile serene. "Change is often unexpected," she said, her voice carrying a quiet wisdom, "but that doesn't mean it's unwelcome."

I tried to focus on her words, on the gentle rhythm of our conversation, but my eyes kept drifting back to Aemond. There was something captivating in the way he moved—fluid, powerful, like a force of nature contained within the elegant sweep of his sword. 

Every time he landed a hit or blocked one of Nymor's strikes, a surge of pride bloomed in my chest, warm and unbidden.

Nymor, too, seemed to be enjoying himself. His usual guarded demeanour had melted away, replaced by a rare look of concentration—and, dare I say, enjoyment. 

The tension that had once crackled between them like a live wire now seemed to soften, giving way to something quieter, more respectful.

I sipped my drink, though my thoughts were far from the conversation. A smile tugged at my lips every time Aemond pulled off a particularly clever move, and when Nymor gave a begrudging nod of approval, I felt my heart lift in ways I hadn't anticipated.

Helaena nudged me gently, catching the smile I was trying so hard to hide. "You like watching him," she observed, her tone teasing but kind.

I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference, though the warmth spreading through my chest was undeniable. 

"It's just... interesting," I said weakly, but the excuse was flimsy, earning me a knowing look from Helaena.

"Interesting," she repeated, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "I think it's more than that."

I didn't bother responding—there was no point in pretending anymore. Helaena's knowing smile lingered between us, and in the silence that followed, I couldn't deny the quiet joy I felt watching Aemond and Nymor. 

These were two parts of my world that had once seemed so far apart, now finding a way to coexist, however imperfectly.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. And that, in itself, felt like a victory.

Aemond caught my eye for the briefest of moments, and though no words passed between us, the look we shared was enough. There was an understanding there, a silent promise. 

Something was shifting, changing. And for once, the change didn't feel like a threat—it felt like a possibility.

Nymor's quiet acceptance, however subtle, was the first step in bridging the divide that had once seemed so insurmountable. 

And as Aemond and Nymor continued their sparring, swords clashing in the afternoon light, I couldn't help but feel that the path forward was starting to clear. 

The walls that had once separated them were beginning to crumble, and in their place, something new was taking shape. 

Something that, for the first time, felt like hope.

A/n - Second last chapter and she has finally admitted her feelings!

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95 @veesuguru

[mccormickgf]

✧ ⁺˳ .🎄࿐ kyumi’s christmas

-> welcome to my first ever kinkmas/fluffmas ! i wanted to do a mix of both smut and fluff, so there’ll be 5 of each. ALL DATES ARE TENTATIVE !!!!

-> during this, i won’t be writing any requests since this will be taking up most of my time. but feel free to send them in for me to write in january <3

mccormickgf 2024 © all rights reserved; please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

── i saw mommy kissing santa claus ! ft. butters scotch

❆ every year, your husband, butters, dresses up as santa for your kids. however, a poorly timed glance out of their bedroom door leads to a bizarre yet hilarious twist on christmas eve. | fluff

❆ dec. 1

── let it snow ! ft. eric cartman

❆ a record-breaking blizzard hits south park, colorado, and you're stuck outside eric cartman’s house, who just happens to be your sworn enemy. what choice do you have but to knock on the door? | smut

❆ dec. 3

── santa baby ! ft. wendy testaburger

❆ you knew you never should’ve accepted a gift from eric cartman. but maybe it was the final push you and your roommate wendy needed to finally confess. | smut

❆ dec. 6

── winter wonderland ! ft. kyle broflovski

❆ every christmas, your family always brings up the topic of you having a boyfriend and "settling down." each year, you begrudgingly tell them you're still single. but this year will be different— and you need your best friend, kyle, to help you out. | fluff

❆ dec. 9

── baby, it’s cold outside ! ft. kenny mccormick

❆ delivering your last gift on christmas eve leads to you into your best friend’s dads bed. | smut

❆ dec. 11

── it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas ! ft. stan marsh

❆ every christmas, you and stan always compete to see who can give the best gift. but this year, it’s safe to say you won. | fluff

❆ dec. 13

── deck the halls ! ft. stan marsh & wendy testaburger

❆ messing around while christmas decorating with your partners, stan and wendy, leads to more than any of you expected. | smut

❆ dec. 15

── last christmas ! ft. craig tucker & tweek tweak

❆ christmas has been a sore subject for you for a few years now. maybe two annoying upstairs neighbours can help bring back your christmas spirit. | fluff

❆ dec. 18

── jingle bells ! ft. kenny mccormick

❆ hanging a bell on your choker was supposed to be a cute addition to your winter outfit. who knew your boyfriend would go feral? | smut

❆ dec. 21

── i’ll be home for christmas ! ft. craig tucker

❆ a blizzard delays all of the flights back to south park, but craig’s got you waiting for him. he’s determined to make it home. | fluff

❆ dec. 24

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Seven

available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag to find other chapters | warnings: cuts, mentions of blood, alcohol, brief mentions of blades, profanity, flashback (in italics), smoking, being drunk

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Seven:

The Lanes were in an uproar. Clients talked, of course, and the odd conversation with a newcomer gave you the opportunity to milk every last drop of information that had been withheld from you. 

“Silco’s taking over. No one knows what to do.” The man’s shifty eyes followed a worker as they strolled past you both. You grinned and grabbed him.

“Well, sir, this is the best place to forget your troubles,” you purred, and nodded your head at the worker. Clearing your throat, you turned around to leave.

“Wait.” The client hissed. You turned, raising an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. “I’ve got friends who I owe a favour. They’re in trouble with someone, and need to lay low for a while.” The worker wrapped his hands around the man’s arm, promptly being ignored as the man took out a pouch, holding it out to you. “Money,” he said gruffly. “To let them hide here.”

You stared at the money, surprised, then narrowed your eyes. “Who exactly are they in trouble with?” Your voice had a sharp, venomous edge to it. The other boy, the worker, upon seeing your sharp expression dropped the man’s arm and scurried away. 

“…Can’t say that,” he muttered, eyes downcast. You pouted.

“Oh, but I think you can.”

He looked up. A group of masked women had surrounded him. Sharp blades glinted in the honeyed, rose coloured light.

You stepped towards him slowly and dangerously. He didn’t move, not when you dragged a sharp, metal fingertip down the side of his face, or plucked the money from his trembling hand.

“Is it Silco?” Your voice was soft, apologetic. “You know I can’t make an enemy out of him.”

He didn’t say anything, and you pulled away, and nodded at the girls. One stepped forward to place a cigarette between your teeth and another held a lighter beneath the end. You took a slow drag, eyes unmoving from the man’s nervous face.

Smoke coiled into the thick air as you spoke. “Fine. But I want this-“ you weight the pouch of coins in your flat palm “-in double, and whoever boards here must be at my every disposal.”

The man looked at you, mind turning over the options. You knew he didn’t have much of a choice; he’d looked desperate the moment he set his foot in the building.

“Fine. I’ll bring them and the money tomorrow.”

You didn’t have time to reply before he raced out, pushing past the tinkling beads into the street. You took another smoke-filled breath, and blew it out. The masked girls looked at you expectantly.

“Open the windows,” you said flatly, “before I smoke the place up again.”

A hushed “yes, Madam,” before their footsteps receded down the hallway.

Back in your office, you opened the pouch.

Gold coins spilled out over the table next to the rose. You crouched, turning one over in your finger. It was legitimate. You bit down, a metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. Music played from one of the rooms further down the hall, the sounds of hushed giggles travelling across the carpet. Other than that, it was calm. 

Heavy footsteps you’d recognise anywhere sounded from the entrance, and the beaded curtain swept to the side to reveal Sevika’s tall frame standing in the doorway. You looked up from your position on the floor.

“Sevika,” you said flatly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her eyes flicked to her muddied boots. “Take your shoes off.”

She did as you said, wrenching the footwear off. You smiled coyly and flicked your head at the sofa opposite your own. “Glad you decided to finally pay a visit,” you drawled, blowing smoke as you talked. She eyed the half-open pouch on the rich, dark wood table, gold spilling from it.

You noticed her staring. “Payment,” you said simply. You took a slow drag, crossing your arms as you did so. Still standing, you looked down at her.

“You here for a client.”

“Yes and no.” She knotted her fingers together. “Tell me why someone I’ve been ordered to take out just ran out of here like you’d burned him?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staking out my place, have you?”

She scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not that special.”

You smiled. “But I’m definitely on the map.”

“On the map, but not on my boss’ radar, if that’s what you’re so hopeful for.”

At this your cheerful facade fell, settling into disdain. “What do you want, Sevika?”

She shrugged. “I came in here for a good fuck. Just happened to see something else along the way.”

You scoffed, leaning down and stabbing the cigarette into the ashtray with an unusual aggression, different to your usual flowy movements.

“Well, he must have been intimidated.” You flicked your head at the curtains. “Go on. You want me to find you someone myself?”

“No need.” She stood up slowly, dusting herself off. She looked down at you.

“You ever look normal?”

“Huh?”

“You know. Without all the shiny bits and flashiness.”

You sat back. “Of course I do. This,” you waved a hand down your body, “Is just for work. Being eye-catching helps.”

She snorted, then nodded, not bothering to reply as she disappeared behind the beads.

You frowned. Maybe housing someone that Silco wanted was a bad idea.

But maybe you did want the attention from him. Sooner or later, he’d have to face you. Face the fact he left you without a word, when you needed him most. You rolled a coin between your fingers thoughtfully, lounging on the velvet. Your eyes fluttered shut.

-

Bass made the floor thump beneath your feet as you jostled through the crowd, Vander and Felicia were conversing idly while waiting for patrons to order, and your eyes flew to the figure sitting next to them. Silco was too engrossed in his journal to notice you press yourself to his back, hands covering his eyes.

“Nose buried in a book in the middle of a bar,” you slurred, resting your chin on his shoulder. He tensed, relaxed, melted into the touch. “You’re no fun.”

He gave a low chuckle, one that you felt vibrate against your own chest as he flicked a page. Vander and Felicia side-eyed you both.

“You’re wasted,” he muttered, flicking a page. You shook your head, voice muffled by his shoulder.

“No.” Your hands had fallen to rest around his neck. “Yet.”

“No yet?” He sounded amused. You threw your head back and groaned. “You’re drunk, [name].”

“I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” you said, sliding off of him to flop into a barstool. You watched as he brought a spoon of soup to his mouth, eyes following his tongue which darted out to lick his lips. “Drunk as you think,” you corrected yourself, looking away. “Vander, pour me a glass.”

Vander hummed, amused, as he got up to pour you a non-alcoholic drink. Of course you didn’t know it wasn’t alcoholic, downing it in one go. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

“Why are you even writing right now anyways?” You complained. You leaned over and snapped the book shut. He frowned, opening it again, and your palm slammed down on it again. Much to his chagrin.

“Drink with me, Silky.” You pushed your glass towards him, not knowing it was non-alcoholic, and he scoffed, unable to hold on to his annoyance at the hilarity of your actions. 

“Don’t call me Silky.”

“Drink with me, Silky.”

“I’m not in the mood.” He pushed your cup away, and you grabbed his hand.

“Dance with me.”

‘Silky’ sighed, frown deepening. “Janna, [name]. Stop pestering me.” His tone had either come out harsher than it was meant to be, or maybe in your drunken state you’d heard it wrong, but your face immediately fell with hurt. He didn’t notice, turning back to his journal.

“Seriously?” Your voice wobbled. He sighed, pushing a strand of his hair out of his eyes. 

“Seriously,” he said firmly, not sparing you another glance. A hand went to your shoulder.

“[name], are you okay?” Felicia looked concerned. Your eyes were glassy, face turning red. Silco finally looked up.

But not in time to catch you as you fell off of your stool, hitting the floor with a harsh thud.

A few collective gasps sounded around you. You groaned, hand flying to your forehead as your skull thrummed, head pounding. “Fuckkk.” Your glass which was once in your hand had shattered, a single shard of glass digging into your skin.

Silco dropped his pen, leaning down. He was frowning again, but now out of concern, hovering and unsure what to do with the drunk mess that you were as you sat up and pressed your back to the bottom wall of the bar counter, drawing your knees to your chest.

Or when you burst into tears.

“Oh, [name]-“ he dropped to his knees, looking over you for any bruises. “Are you seriously crying? The fall was that bad?” And then he noticed your bleeding hand and grabbed your wrist. “Oh, Janna.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose. “No,” you mumbled, shoulders still shaking.

“No?” His eyes flicked up to try and catch your gaze, to no avail. “Then what is it?” He muttered, gently plucking out the small shard.

“You don’t want me around!” You wailed, then covered your face with your hands. He stared at you.

“What?”

You didn’t respond, continuing to pathetically sob. He shared a look with Vander, and hauled you up by the shoulder.

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?” He huffed, breath skimming across your hair as your head lolled on his shoulder. You nodded absently.

“Mmmmyeah. M’sorry I lied.” The words that came out of your mouth were nothing short of a jumbled mess as he dragged you across the bar, taking you to the back.

“It’s fine, dear,” he murmured. The door shut and he let you collapse onto a wooden crate. You blinked, vision wavering with tears, around the dusty storage unit. Glasses, crates, even old chairs. You watched as he rummaged around the shelves, items clattering, before he drew out a first aid box.

“Are we on a ship?” You mumbled as he gently took your wrist, thumb smoothing over your skin. He began to dab at the wound. You hissed in pain.

“Oh, stop moving, will you?” He complained, grabbing your wrist again and tugging it forward, back to its original place. “You big baby.” He worked in silence, listening to your sniffles. “We aren’t on a ship. We’re in the Last Drop.” His voice had softened.

“Then why is everything moving?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“Makes sense,” you said, looking up at him, wide-eyed. “I believe you.”

Something in his chest jumped a little as he cast his eyes down, continuing to clean your cut.

By the time he’d patched you up you were sliding off of the crate onto the floor. He stared at the pathetic heap of your body sprawled on the flooring and sighed, nudging you with his foot ever-so-gently.

“Get up, [name].” 

“M’sleepy.”

“You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t wanna go back out there.”

He sat down on the crate, and you looked up at him. He held his hand out. “Come here.”

You pushed yourself to the foot of the crate, laying your head on his lap. He tensed beneath you, relaxed, melted, before letting out a short exhale. 

“I meant, get up, [name].”

“No,” you mumbled. His fingers played with a strand of your hair. “Not enough space for the both of us.”

“Which is why we should go outside.”

You groaned. “S’too loud out there.”

Silco was miffed. “You want me to stay holed up in this storage cupboard with you while my legs go numb? Thanks.”

You looked up at him, eyes shiny with tears again. He quickly withdrew his words.

“I’m joking. I’m sorry. You know I’d do that any day.” He thought for a moment. “What’s all this about me not wanting you around?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the enunciation suddenly clear instead of sloppy. He looked at you. “I’m such a bother. I pissed you off and messed with your journal.” You sniffled. “And now I’m forcing you to stay here with me.”

“You could just let us go outside,” he muttered under his breath, but one look at your face had him melting. “You’re not forcing me,” he said firmly. “And you didn’t annoy me.” He carded his fingers through your locks, pausing as he carefully mulled over his next words. “I’d never not want you around.”

“I just want your attention,” you hiccuped. “I’m so pathetic.”

He tensed again, not that you noticed. “You want my attention?” His heart was thrumming against his ribcage.

You exhaled, eyes only half-open. “More than anything.”

He didn’t know what to say to this, other than drag you to your feet. “You’re drunk,” he said shortly. “We’re going home.”

“Okay, Silky,” you said contentedly. With you on his arm Silco brought you back out to the front of the bar.

“I’m taking her home,” he curtly told Felicia and Vander, who both looked at him, bemused.

“I can go alone,” you protested, but not before he threw your coat around your shoulders.

“You’re drunk out of your mind. It’s not safe.” And with that he promptly led you from the bar.

You stared at him, stumbling a little as the cold air bit at your face. Grabbed his arm tighter, and nodded.

“Thanks.”

[livingformintyoongi]

Fragment Of Us | Teaser

A/n: Hi! Sorry for disappearing for, like, 4 months lol. This semester has been terribly exhausting, I barely sleep or eat, and I don't have much time to do my own stuff either, so it's been tricky to be here long enough to write anything🫠. Anyway, I was doing an axonometry for my final exam and this idea came to my head and I need to capture it because otherwise I'm going to forget it 🙃.

Pairing: Jungkook x reader.

Resume: Have you ever thought about what you would do if your whole life was a lie? That every second of the last six years was just a long-lived hallucination that, sooner or later, would come to an end? Jungkook knew that feeling all too well, perhaps even too well for his own good.

Jungkook knew he was a person with a vivid imagination, he knew he was capable of creating fictitious situations in his head that looked vivid. However, he knows how to differentiate between reality and fantasy, that's why, when he wakes up and notices that there is no sign of your existence anywhere, he is more than determined to find out whatever is going on and, at any cost, get you back.

Or when Jungkook woke up six years in the past, making all the memories about his life with you become just another object of his imagination, just like you.

Masterlist.

[descendant-of-truth]

Okay I waited to get this out there because I didn't want to be a bummer the second it released, but. The story in Shadow Generations was... kind of nothing. Which sucks, because it had literally everything going for it.

Shadow gets plunged into a white space where people and places from different points in time are unceremoniously dropped in due to the power of the Time Eater, and that means Black Doom is here to try to manipulate Shadow again. Shadow starts developing alien mutations that mess with his sense of identity and only make Black Doom stronger, but he's determined to use them to take him out for good.

At the same time, Maria and Gerald Robotnik are here, and of course the first thought on Shadow's mind when he discovers them is how he can find a way to save them from their original fates. So he's got two goals: defeat Black Doom, and save his family.

This setup is really good. It's immediately engaging for all sorts of reasons, from the surface-level "whoa cool alien powers!!" to the heartbreaking implications of Shadow being forced to say goodbye to Maria and Gerald again. (Because naturally, we've seen where the games go from here and we know the timeline isn't changed that drastically.)

And it's clear to see that the people involved in working on this game were passionate about it, too. The animation and cinematography is quite good, and while I have my critiques (I still don't think the character models are that great), so much effort was put into making Shadow the coolest guy ever, and I think it paid off. He's both very cool and shows a wider range of emotions than we've seen from him in a while, which is always a plus for me.

I mean, goodness knows that Shadow needed his character to be revisited and given respect after, what, over ten years? The step up that this is can't be overstated.

And yet.

The story itself is so empty.

Let's go in order:

The game opens with a narrated recap of Shadow's basic history in order to catch people up. I can't say it doesn't technically serve its purpose, but given the fact that the premise of the game is exploring Shadow's past, it's a little weird to spell it out at the start like this. If you're a newcomer to the series and don't know much about Shadow, wouldn't it be cooler to find this stuff out by progressing in the game?

It also leaves out crucial details that, while they could arguably bloat the scene, provide a lot of relevant context that a first-time viewer isn't privy to.

"At the last moment, Shadow remembered Maria's final wish... to protect her beloved planet and all who lived there."

The last moment of... what, exactly? What made him remember, what made him forget in the first place?

In order, these are the answers the scene doesn't give you:

The last moments before the ARK crashed into the Earth, which would've caused catastrophic damage.

Amy was the one who pleaded with Shadow to give everyone a chance, which echoed what Maria told him, triggering the full memory.

It's actually unclear if Shadow forgot what Maria said as a natural trauma response or because Gerald messed with his memories on purpose, but this would have been a great opportunity to clarify.

It also leaves out the fact that Shadow teamed up with Sonic to save the world after he tried to destroy it, so that's two connections with other characters he has that are completely left out in the recap. I know we're finally getting back to showcasing Rouge and Omega as his best friends, but he does hold respect for Sonic and Amy, too. Plus, his interactions with them in SA2 were so iconic, why leave them out?

Then again, I suppose Rouge and Omega aren't in this recap either... which is really weird, the more I think about it.

But even as it's describing the moment he chooses to be a hero, they don't show him in his super form alongside Sonic, he's just... what, on fire?? I don't know what that's supposed to be depicting, it just looks cool.

"Shadow didn't understand why Black Doom expected him to be the vanguard for his invasion of Earth."

A fine start, but shouldn't we have gotten a passing mention of Shadow's amnesia somewhere in here? He spent two whole games trying to remember who he was, and Black Doom's whole tactic was to exploit his desire for answers. That's important characterization for both Shadow and Black Doom that we're missing out on, here.

"Shadow the Hedgehog. The lone, dark warrior who judges the world by his own code."

This is maybe best addressed in a separate post, but. does anyone else find this description of Shadow kinda odd? "Lone warrior" I get, even with his friends he's not big on groups, but it's everything else.

Yeah, he judges the world by his own code, I guess, but his actions are all in service of following Maria's code. It's Sonic that lives solely by what he wants without much influence from others, not Shadow.

And what exactly makes Shadow a "dark" warrior? He's been explicitly characterized as someone who doesn't kill as recently as the prologue animation to this very game, where he goes out of his way to save a pilot when he doesn't need to. His entire life's purpose is protecting the world, and this doesn't involve killing or torturing people, so... what exactly is the dark part of his morality. Nothing about this recap has given me reason to believe he's anything but a heroic person with a traumatic past, and the subsequent game will only reinforce that.

I guess he did kill all the Black Arms, but that's not something the game ever treated as an immoral action. Shadow blows up Black Doom and the comet his people live on and all of our heroes cheer as he does it. It happens in the True Ending and everything, where Shadow's supposed to be proving himself as a hero for real, so that can't be the example of him being a Dark Warrior.

Is it because of how he treated Infinite, a character that this game doesn't acknowledge despite featuring a level from Forces? We'll never know. They just want you to accept the idea that he's Darker and Edgier than Sonic based on his surface-level demeanor alone, which... given that the objective of this game is to showcase Shadow's nuance, this is really out of place. Overall, not a great scene.

That said, the first real cutscene is pretty good, and it immediately showcases how unnecessary that recap was by showing how excited Maria was to meet Shadow for the first time. From that scene, we learn that Shadow was artificially made, that he's "the Ultimate Lifeform," that Maria was likely close to him, that this happened on some place called "the ARK" which is in space, etc. Why did we have a narrator tell us all of this a minute ago when we were just about to see it for ourselves?

I do have one nitpick, though - Shadow claims that he arrived at the ARK "an hour ago," and Rouge on the other end of the comm is already at Sonic's birthday party. Rouge only agreed to help Shadow get to the ARK if he would go to Sonic's birthday party afterwards, but how was Shadow supposed to have time to do anything up there if Sonic's party was that soon? I was under the impression from watching the prologue that Sonic's birthday was at least a week away, because how else would Rouge expect him to conduct a full investigation and potentially fight some huge battle before then?

Oh and the Time Eater shows up in two places at once (at Sonic's party and on the ARK), I feel like it would've made more sense to have it grab Shadow after it was done with everyone else. Now I'm gonna be forced to ask "why doesn't the Time Eater multiply" for the rest of the game. Whatever

Moving on, our first real sign of things to come is the fact that Omega does not have a proper speaking role despite showing up in the first cutscene. He's right there, conveniently next to Shadow, but as soon as you think they're going to talk to each other... you're dropped into the hub world. Speaking to Omega results in text bubble dialogue, wherein Shadow is mysteriously hit with Silent Protagonist Disease and we don't get to hear anything he says. Effectively, Omega just. talks at Shadow three times, saying nothing of interest. and it's completely optional.

I repeat: all of the dialogue from one of Shadow's best friends is OPTIONAL, and Shadow himself says nothing to him. Yeah, we're off to a great start.

(Omega even says that he's going to assist Shadow, and I just. I have to laugh. I'm so sorry Omega but in terms of physical actions, you're genuinely going to do less here than in Forces)

Shadow: "No. She's gone. I'm seeing things."

Pardon?? Seeing things??? I'm sorry but there is no way that Shadow can see and recognize Maria from that distance but not from ten feet away with her back turned. He's also never been implied to have super-vision, so the whole scene just doesn't make sense, and frankly adds nothing to the story.

Even if he doesn't mean literal sight, then 1) why did he phrase it like that, and 2) I kinda don't care. He doesn't need to be able to sense Maria's presence or whatever's going on here, because he's just as shocked when he actually sees Maria properly later. It builds suspense I suppose, but I feel like it would've been more impactful to discover that Maria was really here the same way Shadow does; in the cutscene where he saves her.

But before they can reunite, we've got the first proper cutscene with Black Doom:

Black Doom: "You defeated us, but the Black Arms live on. And this temporal anomaly has accelerated my plans to revive my forces and consume the world."

I'm gonna be real with you guys. I have no idea what he's talking about here.

The game makes zero attempt to really explain how the Black Arms "live on" despite Shadow blowing up their entire comet along with Black Doom himself, and going into the game, I kinda thought it was just... time displacement. Maria and Gerald are brought in from a time they were alive, so I thought it would be the same with Black Doom, but no - he revived himself before the Time Eater even got involved.

Which I'd be willing to accept if they gave me an explanation for it, but they didn't, and the whole foundation of the plot suffers for it.

Plus, what the heck does he mean that the temporal anomaly has "accelerated his plans to revive his forces"?? The Time Eater's powers don't... accelerate anything. At all. They pluck things out of time and freeze them in a void. How does that help Black Doom's plans whatsoever?

If the idea is that he's going to pluck his own forces out of time and bring them back that way, why not just say that? Why are they withholding such basic information from us? It doesn't create intrigue, and the story doesn't even treat it like there's a gap in our knowledge to begin with. I think it's genuinely supposed to be the whole explanation, and that's a problem because it explains very little.

Then you've got the Black Moon, and this thing annoys me to no end because guess what?? Despite gradually opening more eyes and cracking open every time you complete a level, it's never once explained what it is or what it's for. All it does is turn the white void into a red void and open a portal to Even More Radical Highway. Maybe I'm forgetting something from an optional piece of dialogue, but that only creates a different problem, which is that you should never lock basic understanding of the story behind optional dialogue.

Why does it have eyes? Is it a living creature or some weird bioweapon? It's oddly mechanical for a creation of the Black Arms; even their weaponry is organic, as this very game tells us through Omega, so what's its deal??

You'd think it would have something to do with time, considering the framing of this scene:

Shadow says "perhaps I can change their fate" and then looks to the Black Moon as though it may hold some relevance to this new plot thread, but. nope. it just takes you back to Radical Highway.

And hey, look at that, I was so busy complaining about the moon that I seamlessly transitioned into one of my biggest issues with the game: Shadow says this. and never follows up on it. EVER.

I'm not kidding, there's literally NO point in the game where we're shown Shadow trying to do ANYTHING to change Maria and Gerald's fates. There's no scene where he attempts to understand the void better, he never investigates anything, he makes exactly zero attempts to accomplish one of his main goals. of BRINGING HIS FAMILY BACK TO LIFE.

What is the point of them being here, then.

No, I'm serious, literally why are they here if we don't get to see Shadow try to save them?? By the time the final cutscene rolls around, they start fading away back to their own time, and suddenly Shadow's like

(WHY ARE YOU SURPRISED, YOU DID NOTHING TO PREVENT THIS OUTCOME)

But I'll talk more about Maria and Gerald later - for now, since we're on the topic of Shadow having odd reactions to things, how about those stages and bosses, huh?

Well guys, I'm pleased to announce that despite there being dialogue in some of the stages, absolutely none of it provides context to the locations Shadow visits or his thoughts on them! If you didn't play Heroes and have no idea that Bullet Station is where Shadow found a destroyed Shadow Android, kickstarting a new layer to his identity crisis, then congratulations, this choice of level will mean nothing to you.

And before anyone tries to be like "the Sonic Generations levels don't get commentary from Sonic on their significance to him, either," it's a problem there, too. But it's an even bigger problem here, because they went out of their way to choose levels that have real emotional significance to Shadow and then proceeded to do nothing with it.

Isn't this the game where we revisit Shadow's story up until this point? Would it have been so hard to drop a line of dialogue indicating that Shadow's not thrilled about returning to Bullet Station? Maybe add a brief cutscene where he finds the same broken android from before, and says something like "hmph, I can't believe I let that thing make me doubt myself for so long," thus demonstrating his growth?

Here's a fun fact: Shadow has zero cutscenes that happen inside of levels. This is something Sonic beats him at, by having one cutscene that takes place in a level (Chemical Plant). This should not have been a high bar to clear, but they fell short somehow, anyway.

(Space Colony ARK doesn't even use the Final Chase music. The Shadow game starts out with a song exclusive to Sonic rather than him. He actually has more ARK-related music than Sonic does and they still didn't use any of them. How did they mess that up)

This problem only gets worse when they start pulling in levels from Forces and Frontiers - games that this Shadow hasn't experienced yet and wasn't there for, respectively. Once again, on principle, this is a cool idea! Shadow getting a peek into what his and Sonic's futures have in store? The confusion over when these events take place, if they're even connected to him like the others have been? Great stuff

And hey, if he's going to Chaos Island, and we saw from the trailers that the volcano is exploding in Act 1, then maybe we could even see Super Sonic fighting Knight in the background in Act 2! The debris from their fight could even act as platforming challenges, can you imagine how cool that would be? What will Shadow think of the advanced tech on the island, or of seeing Sonic fight something so massive? Surely this is a great opportunity to elevate Frontiers even further--yeah of course they don't do that.

No Knight fight in the background, which is... fair enough, I guess, but then why bother with the volcano exploding? It only does that moments away from when Sonic is about to fight Knight. Yeah, it looks cool, but we didn't need it. The more egregious problem is still the fact that Shadow has no observable thoughts or opinions on being sent to unfamiliar terrain in the future, though.

The bosses all have dialogue, though, which is a step up on a technicality and little else. Most of the dialogue from Shadow is just him being a self-aggrandizing badass who doesn't see any of the bosses as threats - even Neo Metal Sonic, who he should really not be so confident in beating all by himself, considering that he. didn't do that before. It actually took eleven other people to defeat Neo Metal, including Super Sonic, but I guess he just doesn't care at this point.

If they wanted to, it would've been easy to make him overconfident on purpose due to his new Doom powers, make an arc out of it, but no. Shadow's just Like This now, apparently.

There's a similar power scaling issue in Sonic Generations too, where Sonic can somehow defeat Perfect Chaos without his super form, but the game had dropped location-specific cutscenes so long ago that it was hard to feel like it was even canon at a certain point. The game never cared about making sense or really being anything, but Shadow Generations doesn't get that excuse. The bosses having the most mid-gameplay dialogue tells us that they're Definitely Happening, and so I care more about them as a result.

Which takes us to the moment that I truly realized that this game had no interest in doing anything with its material: the Mephiles boss fight.

Shadow: "What's this? A seal of some sort?"

Okay real quick before I get into my big issues with this fight: I know it's a magic glowing artifact, but what about it actually looks like a seal, specifically? Does Shadow just have a sense for this kind of thing? I don't recall him ever demonstrating that ability before.

I feel like this line is just here to clarify what it is for people who don't know, but since Shadow also doesn't know, it's just kind of weird. I'm not even sure why he's in the Scepter to begin with, considering that Shadow's sealing attempt in this room was a failure, but whatever.

Of the three bosses in Shadow Generations that precede the final boss, Mephiles is the only one that can both speak and had a relevant dynamic with Shadow that would be interesting to revisit. The Biolizard is cool but doesn't have a personality, and Neo Metal had no real opinion on Shadow. (In Rivals 2, Shadow and Metal Sonic have a developing friendship, but this has unfortunately never been brought up again. If they did so here, it would only have been on Shadow's end, since Metal hadn't gotten to that point yet.)

But Mephiles? So much of his character revolves around Shadow. It was Shadow who sealed him away originally, and it was Shadow's form that he took when he broke free. He's the main antagonist of Shadow's story in 06, and even though his primary goal is rejoining with Iblis, he takes a vested interest in trying to manipulate Shadow over to his side by showing him the worst of what humans will do to him - not unlike Black Doom, honestly, though he was focused on Shadow's past instead.

Plus, it's been so long! We thought we would never get to see Mephiles again! What have you got for us, game?

Mephiles: "I will defeat you, then restore myself to the timeline." Shadow: "I don't know what you're talking about, but I will crush you all the same." Mephiles: "What? Did you forget about me AGAIN?"

*deep sigh*

Contradictory dialogue back-to-back. I see. Cool.

Mephiles should not be surprised that Shadow doesn't remember who he is, because he literally JUST SAID that his goal is to restore himself to the timeline. He KNOWS that he never existed, and therefore SHOULD KNOW that nobody he encounters will remember him. I'm convinced that he only reacted this way because the writers thought it would be funny, and that's it.

Even if it made sense, though, Mephiles isn't supposed to be funny. He's supposed to be ominous and threatening. For as much care that went into recreating this environment and his powers/body language from 06 (and I gotta say, this whole section looks extremely nice), none of that same care really seemed to go into his personality. He's just as drab as Neo Metal, occasionally repeating lines from 06 so that you know they played it and not much else.

The end of the fight features some absolutely unhinged dialogue from Shadow for no reason, though.

Mephiles: "No... I want... to exist...! Shadow: "There is no future for you. Ever."

Look, I get it, they've done nothing but fight this whole time . But Shadow has no personal beef with this guy. Even if they're going with the idea that Shadow wouldn't care to learn what Mephiles is rambling on about (kind of boring, and why wouldn't he be curious about why someone like this has it out for him), there's no reason to go so far as to say he'll never have a future. Is this the "dark" part of that "dark warrior" thing they were talking about in the beginning?? Kind of a random place for it to jump out of him, if so.

The kind of intensity coming from Shadow here would be justified if he remembered who Mephiles was, but he doesn't. As it stands, it gives off the impression that he didn't actually process a single thing Mephiles said about wanting to exist and restore himself to the timeline, and just said the first cool, edgy retort that came to mind. Which makes the sentence both less cool and even more out of character.

After this boss finished playing out, all I could feel was disappointment and a creeping sense of emptiness. If this was how the game was handling Mephiles, of all characters, if this was the extent of what they were willing to do with an idea... the rest of the game suddenly seemed much less exciting. I got to this point, realized how comparatively little of the game was left, and thought oh no.

Now, uh... where was I in the story, again?

Oh right, Shadow was about to go save Maria. I actually have no notes on that scene, it's pretty good and I liked that Maria was immediately thrown off by his aggressive fighting style and whatnot. It implies a lot about what Shadow used to be like without really showing or telling us, and that's pretty neat.

The following cutscene where Gerald explains how Shadow's growing powers only make Black Doom stronger in the process is also fine, there's nothing super specific for me to gripe about it in isolation.

And this good streak it has going is immediately interrupted by the worst, most nonsensical scene in the entire game.

Sonic: "I found you, Shadow!" Shadow: "The blue hedgehog... of all places..." Sonic: "You have something I need." Shadow: "You can wait until my business is finished." Sonic: "Yea sorry, but that Chaos Emerald and I have a date with a monster!" Shadow: "Well then, it'll be a date to die for."

This is. a really stilted conversation, no matter what way you look at it. On one hand, it's repurposed dialogue from two different scenes haphazardly mashed together, neither of which should represent their current dynamic anymore since they were both antagonistic at the time. And on the other, it just... completely lacks character from both of them. They're so unbelievably dry despite their attempts to sound quirky, it's actually impressive.

I have to ask - have the script writers not heard the incessant complaints from fans about there being too many references in modern Sonic dialogue?? Because this scene plays out like an actual parody of that trend, the kind I would expect to see on twitter or something. I initially saw the animation for this cutscene without audio due to leaks, and I thought it looked pretty cool because the animation was nicely done.

Boy, when I tell you I was stunned to discover that THIS was the actual, official dialogue. What happened here?? Why is this what Sonic cutscenes are turning into?? In a game that costs $50-$60??And people are saying it's the best Sonic game???

Somehow, the god-awful dialogue isn't even the only thing that's wrong with this scene, but I'll compile the rest in bullet points to speed it up a little.

Shadow suddenly shows up in Sonic's section of White Space, despite it not being visible from a distance and therefore giving no reason for Shadow to venture out that far

Sonic says he "found" Shadow as if he was looking for him, even though the only people Sonic has seen here other than his and Tails' past selves are people who were at his birthday party

Classic Sonic is neither seen nor mentioned despite the extremely fun potential of having him interact with Shadow

A purple portal conveniently shows up in front of Sonic and Shadow while they're talking for no reason

The boss fight with Sonic is just a cutscene (lame), and Shadow gets taken out completely by one solid bonk from Sonic (even lamer)

The fake Chaos Emerald switcheroo, while clever, is presented as if it was done deliberately when it was clearly a coincidence that it got knocked out of Shadow instead of the real one

(I guess this technically happens before the Mephiles fight so my faith in this game was already plummeting, but I was willing to tolerate this scene being bad because I could understand them not wanting to add too much to Sonic's side of things. They had completely free reign with Mephiles and still delivered nothing, which is why it really cemented itself in my head)

The one thing I really liked here was seeing Shadow almost use his Doom powers to defeat Sonic, deciding against it, and his hesitation being what lost him the match. Shadow refusing to fight Sonic on unequal terms is some really good characterization that I was happy to see.

Black Doom: "The promised time is nigh upon us, Shadow. Soon, you will be mine."

So did we ever learn what the "promised time" was, exactly? I've played every route of Shadow the Hedgehog (some more than once) and still can't remember. If he's referring to the time when Shadow awakens his full power then I guess it makes sense, but otherwise it's kind of an oxymoron considering that time doesn't exist in White Space.

Gerald: "He has grown a new body, and used the nebulous nature of time in White Space to accelerate his plans for revenge."

Shadow, buddy, your animation is positively kickin' right now but Gerald, I'm gonna need you to do literally anything other than just repeat the same lackluster explanation we got earlier as if that's going to make it any less confusing. What ABOUT the nebulous nature of time? Is time not largely just frozen here?? We're somehow around 3/4s into this story and I still have NO idea how anything works

Maria calms Shadow down from his frankly justified anger by holding his hand and talking about how she doesn't want him to be driven by darkness. They find a way to throw in the fact that apparently Maria named him "Shadow" because the presence of a shadow can show you where to find the light, and it's... nice? Very wholesome, but it feels awkwardly placed and I'm not sure anyone was seriously asking why he was named that. Like, of all the questions to spend this game's limited screentime answering, "why is he named Shadow" was probably not at the top of most people's lists.

And before you have a chance to think about it, we're already at the endgame.

Shadow: "I'm letting go of that destructive anger."

Wow, and in the very next scene after it was brought to your attention, too! You sure do grow fast, Shadow!

Okay, all jokes aside, there's not much I can say about the pacing in this game other than It's Rushed and Bad, but I think it's finally time to talk about Gerald and Maria.

Gerald first: He's mostly just here to give out exposition. His relationship with Shadow is much less focused on than Maria's, which I find to be really frustrating because I always had a lot of questions about how those two interacted. In SA2, we only know him as a grieving, hate-filled man who was heavily implied to have scientifically messed with Shadow's mind - not long after they had both just lost Maria - in order to make him inclined towards Gerald's revenge plan.

In Shadow's first game, we see a side to him from before then, when he really seemed to care for Shadow and we got some clarity on the purpose of the Eclipse Cannon and whatnot. But what were their average interactions like? Who was in charge of Shadow's training? If it was Gerald, did that ever create a sense of distance between them? Shadow never has warm, nostalgic flashbacks of him, so I assumed their relationship either wasn't as close or he has too many conflicting feelings now for those memories to be very comforting.

This game decides to lean into Gerald being a kind, supportive man, but regardless, Shadow's feelings should be a lot more complicated, no?

I'd imagine that, in a way, it's a relief to have this Gerald around again. It would make it easier to pretend that the man who used him in an attempt to destroy the world and go against everything Maria stood for was just... a fluke, or something.

But still, Shadow knows that he would do bad things to him if Maria died. It's already happened.

Dark Beginnings also suggested that either Shadow was there when he shot down by the firing squad (unlikely given the context), or he watched the recording that played at the end of SA2 enough to be able to see it in his dreams. Neither of those are good for his psyche, and would only add to the number of emotions he has to suppress whenever they interact. There is, of course, none of this nuance within the game itself, despite it being right there and ready to be worked with.

Then you've got Maria, and. hoo boy.

I take no real issue with any of Maria's traits that are on display. Her being a nice girl with boundless energy and goodwill does not make her boring, and I've always been fascinated by her character. So, I need you guys to understand that it's with a heavy heart that I must say that Maria is... barely a character in this game.

And like, she doesn't exactly have a history of being deep or complex. But we've also only ever seen her in Shadow's memories up until this point, and that means this game was a unique opportunity to flesh her out more.

When a character is as idealized by another as Maria is by Shadow, and we only see them through that lens, it's natural to assume that the depiction isn't completely accurate. I was never in doubt that Maria was kind and gentle, or that she was always there to help Shadow when she knew he was struggling, but I always wanted to know what she was like outside of that. What makes her angry? What was she like on a bad day, when she inevitably got frustrated at her lot in life? How did Shadow comfort her? What was her sense of humor like?

While we technically learn more things about Maria in this game, there's never a point where she acts differently from Shadow's vision of her. She's not really shown to have flaws, and she's only really there to be saved and offer emotional support. It's like... a textbook example of what you shouldn't be doing when writing a female character, having her be defined entirely by her relationship with the male lead and never speaking up or complaining about her own problems or feelings. They don't even make a point out of it, that Maria tempers herself to be "perfect" for other people or anything like that.

Why don't we get to see how she and Shadow would handle an argument or something like that? Especially this Shadow, who's all shaken up by everything? Wouldn't it be beneficial for both of their characters for Maria to be seen as herself, the way she was in life, rather than just the nicest moments she and Shadow had together?

I'm gonna make a comparison here that people aren't gonna like, but... I think Elise is honestly shown to be a more nuanced character than Maria is. And this is coming from someone who thinks that she was also mishandled in her game.

Similar to Maria, Elise is genuinely a deeply caring person, and lives mostly isolated with a condition of sorts that makes her life difficult. Her most important relationship is also with the male lead of her respective game, but she doesn't exist solely for his benefit. (Amusingly, Sonic actually seems to be there primarily to further her arc, so it's a bit of a role swap there.)

But we see more from Elise than just Being Nice all the time. We see her being resolute and bold in the face of danger, or disappointed when she has to go back to the castle. We watch her try her hardest not to cry and retain her strong, regal exterior when faced with overwhelming emotion.

We get to see her open up and laugh and become more confident, we watch as someone who's been forced to put her feelings aside for the convenience (and safety) of others her whole life finally break down and shout something selfish for once. And then we watch her ultimately choose to do the right thing, anyway. Her strength of character is shown to us by putting her in situations that challenge her, and the narrative never once shames her for being imperfect; it's actually encouraging her to be her real, flawed self.

Why does Maria not get this same treatment? Why don't we get cutscenes of her being excited about the new environment she's in, or frustrated that her symptoms are making it difficult to do anything here? When does she get to be selfish? Why can't she get upset at people treating her like she's frail, even if it technically "makes sense" for them to do so?

We're told, in Gerald's journal, that some of the people aboard the ARK doubted that Maria was really sick due to her symptoms not being clearly visible. Because it's his journal, we only get to hear his feelings on the matter, but in the full game, we never once get to know how it makes Maria feel, the person this is all about to begin with. They absolutely could have incorporated this into a cutscene somewhere, but they didn't.

Once again, I have to ask: what is the point of Maria and Gerald being in this game if this was how they were going to be written? Not only does Shadow fail to even attempt to save their lives, he doesn't even walk away from the experience with renewed understanding of who they were as people.

So what even happens in this story, then?? Every single aspect of it is dragged down constantly by the game's refusal to do anything with what it has:

Shadow revisits places from his past, but has nothing to say about them

Shadow visits places from the future, but has nothing to say about them

He has nothing relevant or interesting to say about any of the bosses

Mephiles trying to restore himself to the timeline is a plot point that exists solely within his boss fight and nowhere else

He doesn't struggle with any of the bosses, emotionally or physically, turning them into a boring power trip

He barely struggles with his Doom powers, the things that are supposed to be giving him an identity crisis

Sonic is not a playable boss fight and he also says nothing relevant or interesting

Classic Sonic doesn't even get a passing mention

The Team Dark friendship is supposed to be a highlight but Shadow never speaks to Omega, who also never shows up in cutscenes, and Rouge is just kinda there

Maria and Gerald never meet Rouge and Omega, or anybody else on-screen, despite it being extremely easy for them to run into each other

Shadow's relationships with Maria and Gerald are barely explored past their surface

Most importantly, Shadow is never shown making any sort of effort to save Maria and Gerald from their fates, despite it being one of his primary goals

...Oh yeah, I forgot to complain about how Shadow barely struggles with his Doom powers. I was gonna go on a whole spiel about how it would've been super easy to make into an arc and how it was wildly underutilized despite being a major selling point of the game, and the only real consistent conflict whenever Black Doom isn't on screen.

Well. Anyway. Once the White Space becomes Red Space (something that once again makes me question how far away Sonic's area is, to not be able to see this happening), Shadow magically gets over his "destructive anger" and goes to Radical Highway one last time for the epic final boss.

And it certainly is epic, I can't deny that. A massive technical improvement over the first fight against Devil Doom, and I'm not about to sit here and act like the wings aren't cool. But I can't say it feels very rewarding, since I never really understood what was going on and Shadow didn't really struggle that much to get to this point. Not to mention, he's still acting all high and mighty during boss fights, which makes it feel stale really quickly. Black Doom isn't really that interesting by himself, so Shadow kinda needed to carry that fight, but no, it's just more of the same.

One last point before I wrap this up:

Where was Emerl???

Correct me if I'm wrong, but a promo animation for a game should, in theory, provide you some idea as to what kind of things to expect in the game itself. While a lot of them take their share of creative liberties, I don't think they're in the habit of putting spotlight on entire characters who never appear in the game at all.

This is THE GAME where we bring back the people from Shadow's past that he's lost, and Emerl most certainly qualifies. He's from the more recent past, yes, but Shadow still cared about him and absolutely would have been affected by his death. There's no way that, had he been in the story, Shadow wouldn't have been determined to save him as well. But no, he's just there to be a cool lore detail in Gerald's journal.

Which means this is yet another depiction of Emerl where we refuse to acknowledge his personality. Do they seriously think Emerl is more interesting as an emotionless killing machine that Gerald researched in his spare time? Where's the fun-loving kid who mimicked everyone around him, splicing things he heard them say together to communicate and creating funny tonal whiplash? Where's the robot with the soul that Gerald gave him, that was nurtured by Sonic and his friends?

Not in this game, apparently! They went out of their way to canonize Battle and still managed to treat it with zero respect. Kind of impressive, really, and just another footnote in the trend of this game not actually caring to do anything with Shadow's past.

There are definitely moments in this game that I like, but that's kind of all they are: moments. The game's total cutscene runtime is around 30 minutes, and that means there's not enough time in any of them to get anything done. A scene that's good in isolation is tainted by the fact that it's all there is.

And it's just... so baffling to me. There are so, so many points in this game where you could have fit additional cutscenes in. We could have had one after each act, or at least after each level. Give us more cutscenes after activating things in the hub world or something. I mean, a game that claims to be this story-driven doesn't usually need an excuse to throw cutscenes at you, and they certainly didn't need to force each scene to be so unbelievably short.

If they really needed to downsize on cutscene length for some reason, then maybe they should have just made a less ambitious story. The game wants to do so many things at once, but it doesn't have the time to do any of those things justice. We could have gotten a short, sweet, well-done little story, but instead we get a story that easily needed at least two hours to tell crunched into a measly 30 minutes.

I mean, Dark Beginnings in its entirety is half the length of the full game. Think about that for a second.

This game's story was supposed to be something, man. It's getting so much praise for what feels to me like the bare bones structure of a story, and it's frustrating because I know this series can do better. The writer of this game can do better, and I know that because I've read his other Sonic material and it feels much more complete than this does.

I was genuinely looking forward to this game, is the thing. I really didn't think it would be this lackluster, because like I said at the beginning of this post, it had everything in the world going for it. But no matter how nice it feels to have a Shadow who isn't wildly out of character for once, that alone can't carry an entire story.

Shadow Generations is a mess of good ideas executed in the least interesting, most nothing way possible. Its only real saving grace is its animation, and the fact that Shadow generally feels like himself.

Except for when he's talking to Sonic. What the heck happened when he was talking to Sonic

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Desperately gripping on and trying to resist the urge to abandon this blog entirely !

[came0dust]

i cannot keep drawing this dude on my phone but god do i love drawing him (+ bonus colors)

[girlivealwaysbean]

my sister called me and kept asking excitedly that what's happening in my life and

[lovinggreeniehours]

you know what i severely underestimated how actually fucked up renachrome is in arc 1. of course them being friends is a good thing but actually oh my god. what the fuck is wrong with them