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jungkoode · 2 days ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 10

˗ˏˋ slow dancing ˎˊ˗

"Late night melodies have a way of slipping past your defenses. And maybe that's why he chose 2AM to show you a side of him you weren't supposed to see."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 4.5k

content: electric guitar discussions, griffin being a crackhead like his dad, tiny moments, late night melodies, comfortable silence

✧ author's note ✧

FIRST OF ALL! I CREATED A PLAYLIST OF SONGS FMU!JUNGKOOK PLAYS ON HIS ELECTRIC GUITAR to make him feel more human and lived in. Go check it out! You can play it whenever he’s playing the guitar.

Hello everyone! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Currently writing this from the past since I'm scheduled to be stuffing my face with gyros in Greece right now. Which, honestly? Living my best tourist life with my partner. (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

I know I said chapter 10 might be delayed because of the trip BUT Wednesday night hit different and suddenly my brain went feral. You know how it is - either write nothing for weeks or channel an entire novel in one sitting. There is no in-between. (；一_一)

Here's the thing about this chapter though - I'm actually proud of it? Which never happens, so cherish this moment. It's finally time to plant some seeds (about time, right?). ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

Listen, I know I'm absolutely unhinged about slow burn. Like, genuinely concerning levels of commitment to dragging out emotional development. I kept second-guessing if 50k words in was too early for their first Moment™, but you know what? They deserve this tiny crumb of softness. (`･ω･´)

Before you get too excited - remember who's writing this. Your resident slow burn demon. What I consider a huge development, you'll probably read and go "... that's it?" (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But I promise, if you pay attention to the vibes, there's something special here.

Quick question! I've sprinkled about three of Jungkook's trauma events throughout the story so far. Any theories? Some of you perceptive souls (looking at you, Koopsy) have probably figured them out, but I'm curious what everyone else thinks! ψ(｀∇´)ψ

See you next weekend! Mwah!

P.S. Written at 5AM running on spite and caffeine. If you spot typos, no you didn't. (￣▽￣*)ゞ

I am sorry but listening to THIS on the second part is MANDATORY. It’s the song Jungkook’s playing. So, you better listen to it or I’ll get mad and stop breathing and there will be no more fuck me up for you bitches. 😤😤😤

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

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Your hair's a fucking mess and it's all his fault.

You tug at your oversized pajama shirt as you emerge from your room, trying to look less... well. Less like you just had your roommate's tongue down your throat.

The living room's exactly as you left it, except now Jungkook's manspreading in the armchair like he owns it, arguing with Yeji about—wait, what?

"—can't seriously think the Stratocaster is better for metal," he's saying, gesturing with those stupidly nice hands of his. "The humbucker pickups alone—"

"The clarity though?" Yeji cuts in, looking personally offended. You've seen that look before—usually right before she launches into a thirty-minute rant about music theory. "You get way better note definition with single coils, especially for complex riffs—"

"Yeah, if you want it to sound like a tin can—"

"Excuse me?"

God. Two guitar nerds in one room. This is literally your worst nightmare.

Irya's sitting between them on the couch looking thoroughly entertained, phone in hand. "Jimin!" she calls out suddenly. "Check the one I just sent you!"

Jimin glances up from his own phone, that soft smile playing on his lips. He's claimed the other end of the couch, as far from the guitar debate as possible. Smart man.

The doorbell rings, and before you can even think about moving, Jungkook launches himself out of the armchair like an overcaffeinated jackrabbit.

"I got it!" He's already halfway to the door, and you roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck.

"Whatever." You grab one of the bean bags from near the big window, dragging it to the other side of the coffee table. As far from the armchair as possible, because you know exactly where he's going to sit when he gets back.

"Just saying," Yeji continues like the pizza interruption never happened, "if you're going to shit-talk Fender, at least have a decent argument."

"Oh, I've got arguments." You can hear Jungkook fumbling with his wallet at the door. "Want me to grab my guitar? I can demonstrate—"

"Please, god, no," you mutter, dropping onto the bean bag. The last thing you need is an impromptu concert from either of them.

"Pizzaaaa," he announces, kicking the door shut behind him. He's somehow managing to balance four boxes, and you definitely don't notice the way his arms flex under the weight. "Who's hungry?"

You end up sharing your calabrese with Jimin because he's literally the only person in this room with taste. Plus, watching him take small, careful bites makes you feel better about the way you just inhaled your first slice like some kind of starved animal.

Everyone else claimed their own pizza—Yeji's practically mainlining her extra spicy diavola, Irya's defending her hawaiian from Yeji's judgmental looks, and Jungkook...

God. Jungkook.

He's sprawled in that armchair like it's a throne, one leg thrown over the armrest, decimating his meat lovers' like he's getting paid for it. And it's annoying. Everything about him is annoying. The way he tears into the crust with those stupidly white teeth. The way his throat works when he swallows. The little appreciative sounds he makes that are way too similar to—nope.

Not going there.

"Want some?" He catches you staring and holds out a slice, cheese stretching obscenely. "Since you keep looking over here."

"I'm not—" You break off as a string of cheese snaps. "I was judging your eating habits."

"Uh-huh." He takes another bite, and you hate that you notice the way his lips curve. "Sure, phoenix."

"Fuck off."

"Make me."

Yeji makes a gagging sound. "Do you two ever stop?"

No. You don't. That's the problem. Whether it's fighting or fucking or whatever the hell happened in your room twenty minutes ago, you just... don't stop. Can't stop. Won't stop.

And maybe that should worry you more than it does.

"Pass me a napkin?" Jimin asks quietly, and you grab one gratefully. Away from thoughts of Jungkook's mouth and what it was doing to you earlier and—focus. Pizza. Friends. Normal things that don't involve your roommate's tongue.

Except he's right there, existing in your peripheral vision like some kind of extremely annoying sun. Being all... present. With his hair still messed up from your hands and that mark on his neck that your friends definitely haven't noticed but you know is there and—

"Phoenix." His voice cuts through your spiral. "You're staring again."

"I'm plotting your murder."

He grins, slow and knowing. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

He's still chewing. Like, unnecessarily loud? Who taught this man table manners, a pack of wolves?

You watch him demolish another slice with the same energy your mom attacks Facebook conspiracy theories. It's giving feral raccoon energy. No, worse—it's giving mukbang YouTuber who's about to get canceled for something weird. The way he's manspreading in that chair like he's about to start a podcast about cryptocurrency—

And then you see it. Griffin, the little menace, has somehow gotten onto the coffee table (again) and he's sniffing at—fuck, is that garlic bread?

You're out of the bean bag before you can think, nearly falling on your face in your haste. "Griffin, no—"

But Jungkook's already moving too, pizza forgotten, practically launching himself out of the chair. "G, don't—"

You snatch Griffin away from the bread just as Jungkook reaches for him, and for a second you're both frozen there—you with an armful of disgruntled cat, him with his hands outstretched and something raw and panicked in his eyes that makes your chest tight.

"He can't have garlic," you explain, which is stupid because obviously Jungkook knows this, it's his cat. "It's toxic for—"

"Yeah." His voice is rough. He swallows, hands falling to his sides. "Yeah, I know."

The silence stretches for a beat too long.

Something's off about his reaction—it's just bread, right?

But there's tension in his shoulders, a tightness around his eyes that wasn't there before.

"He's got this thing about human food," he says finally, aiming for casual but missing by a mile. His laugh sounds hollow. "Always goes for the stuff that'll fuck him up."

You raise an eyebrow, absently scratching under Griffin's chin. "What, like a death wish?"

"More like bad judgment." He reaches for Griffin, and you notice his hands aren't quite steady. "Likes the wrong stuff. Just like his dad. Don't you, buddy?"

Griffin just purrs, completely unbothered by all the drama he just caused. Jungkook checks him over anyway, like he might have somehow eaten the entire loaf in the two seconds you weren't looking.

"Devil cat," you mutter, but you find yourself reaching out to scratch Griffin's ears anyway. "Always trying to unalive himself with human food."

Jungkook's quiet for a moment, just watching you pet Griffin.

Then, so soft you almost miss it: "Thanks."

You blink. "For what?"

"For—" He cuts himself off, nonchalance sliding back into place. "For not letting him add 'bread thief' to his criminal record."

But there's something in his voice, in the way his fingers keep checking Griffin like he needs to make sure he's still there—

"Yo," Yeji cuts in, "can someone please explain to my girlfriend why pineapple on pizza is a crime against humanity?"

"It's not a crime," Irya's saying, waving her slice of hawaiian like a weapon. "It's culinary innovation."

"It's fruit on pizza." Yeji looks personally wounded. "That's like putting ketchup in coffee."

"Don't give him ideas," you mutter, watching Jungkook from the corner of your eye. He's settled back in the armchair with Griffin, but something's... off. The casual sprawl looks forced now, mechanical. His phone's out, thumb scrolling without really seeing.

Weird.

"Some people actually do that," Jimin offers quietly. "The ketchup thing."

"Those people need therapy." Yeji steals a piece of pineapple off Irya's slice, examining it like it's evidence in a crime scene. "Like, immediately."

You should probably join in. Make some quip about food crimes or Yeji's weird vendetta against fruit. But you keep getting distracted by the way Jungkook's shoulders are still tight, how his other hand hasn't stopped checking Griffin. Like he needs to make sure he's still there.

Doesn't make sense. He was fine ten minutes ago, being all loud and annoying about guitars. What changed?

"Speaking of crimes against humanity—" Irya starts.

"We are not discussing the mint chocolate incident again."

"It was one time!"

Griffin shifts in Jungkook's lap, and you catch the slight flinch in his fingers. The way his eyes snap to check what the cat's doing. It's so different from his usual careless energy, from the way he usually lets Griffin do whatever the fuck he wants.

"Phoenix." His voice makes you jump. Caught staring. Fuck. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

The words are right—that usual cocky bullshit—but the delivery's wrong. Flat. Like he's reading from a script of himself.

"What, and boost your ego more?" Keep it casual. Normal. Whatever's happening, he clearly doesn't want to talk about it. "Pretty sure that's like, directly against the Geneva Convention."

He tries for a smirk, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Didn't know you were so concerned about war crimes."

"Only the ones happening in my living room."

A ghost of his usual grin, there and gone. Then he's back to his phone, shoulders a hard line under his t-shirt. You watch him tap the screen exactly four times, precise and measured. Since when does he do anything precise?

"Y/N?" Jimin touches your arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just..." You gesture vaguely at your half-eaten slice. "Food coma."

But you keep watching. Can't help it. The way his jaw clenches every few seconds. How he's barely touched his pizza since the Griffin thing. The slight tremor in his fingers when he scratches behind the cat's ears.

He just... trusts the wrong people sometimes, you know?

What the fuck was that about?

"Earth to Y/N!" Yeji's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Back me up here. Pineapple on pizza—yes or no?"

"What? Oh, uh." You force yourself to look away from Jungkook. "Definitely no."

"Thank you!"

"Traitor," Irya accuses, but she's grinning. "I trusted you."

Trust. There's that word again. You glance back at Jungkook, but he's not even pretending to listen anymore. Just staring at his phone, one hand buried in Griffin's fur like an anchor.

Something happened here. Something you're missing. But the more you try to piece it together, the less sense it makes. It's just bread, right? Just Griffin being his usual chaos gremlin self. So why does Jungkook look like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop?

"Hey." Jimin's voice is soft. Private. "Sure you're okay?"

No. Yes. Maybe. You don't know why you're so fixated on this, why you can't just let it go. It's not like you care. It's not like—

"I'm fine." You reach for another slice. "Just tired."

But you can't quite shake the image of his face when you caught Griffin. That raw panic, like he was seeing something else entirely. Someone else.

“Alright I’m so done with this. We are watching Love Island.” Yeji jumps in.

“Since when do you like reality shows?” Jimin asks, smiling.

“Since, uh, never.” She replies, defensively. “I just like seeing stupid people doing stupid shit.”

And that’s how you end up watching Love Island reruns, because apparently that's what your life has devolved into. Jungkook disappeared to his room twenty minutes ago, taking Griffin and his weird mood with him, and you're trying very hard not to think about either of them.

You're failing spectacularly, but whatever.

"You good?" Yeji nudges you with her foot. "You've been weird since the whole bread thing."

"M'fine." You bat her foot away. "Just tired."

She gives you that look, the one that says she knows you're full of shit, but before she can call you out on it, the front door opens.

Yoongi trudges in looking like he's been through seven circles of hell and maybe a Walmart on Black Friday. His beanie's askew, dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than usual—classic post-studio energy. He stops dead when he sees your little gathering, letting out the longest, most defeated sigh you've ever heard.

Then he takes off his beanie, hanging his keys, and—

"You're fucking joking."

Yeji practically launches herself off the couch, dislodging Irya from where she was curled into her shoulder. What the—

Yoongi freezes. Turns. Very. Slowly.

"........."

"Mint????" Yeji's voice hits a pitch that probably only dogs can hear. "What the actual fuck?"

Yoongi closes his eyes like he's praying for strength. "Please god, no."

Hold up.

You look between them—Yeji vibrating with chaotic energy, Yoongi looking like he wants to evaporate on the spot. Since when does your anti-establishment new possibly best friend know your lowkey famous producer roommate?

"Wait." You sit up straighter. "You know Yoongi?"

"Know him?" Yeji's still staring at Yoongi like he's either Jesus or a sleep-deprived hallucination. "He produced my track six months ago and then ghosted everyone like—"

"I didn't ghost." He dumps his bag on the counter with maybe more force than necessary. "I was working."

"For six months?"

"Yes."

You regard both of them slowly. Because yeah, you knew Yoongi was Mint—Hoseok had dropped that bomb like it wasn't a whole thing. But Yeji? Your anarchist, fight-the-system best friend worked with him?

"Hold up." Irya's sitting up now too, eyes wide. "You're telling me this is the guy? The one who made that track that almost got you banned from three venues?"

"It was one track." Yoongi's already heading for his room, clearly done with this conversation. "Six months ago."

"It was fire though!" Yeji calls after him. "Could've been more if you hadn't—"

The door closes with a very pointed click.

"Well." Irya breaks the silence. "That was fun."

Another door opens and Jungkook peers out, probably drawn by all the noise. "Was that Yoongi? What's with all the—"

"Did you know Yeji worked with him?" you demand, because apparently this is your life now. Finding out your friend and your roommate have secret music history.

He blinks. "With who?"

"Our roommate? Mint PD? Ring any bells in that empty head of yours?"

"Oh." He shrugs, leaning against his doorframe. "Yeah, but I didn't know it was your Yeji."

"She's not my—wait." You narrow your eyes. "How many Yejis do you know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, phoenix?"

"It’s not like Yeji is a super common name in New York."

His grin is insufferable. "Sure about that?"

"God, do you ever shut up?"

"Only when I'm sleeping." He stretches, all casual arrogance. "Sometimes not even then."

"Gross." You turn to your friends. "You guys don't have to leave just because he's being... himself."

But Yeji's already getting up, collecting their stuff. "Nah, it's late. Plus, I need to process the whole Mint thing. That was weird as fuck."

"Text me the story later?" Irya asks, helping gather the pizza boxes. "I want to know everything about this track that got you banned."

"It wasn't banned," Yeji protests. "Just... strongly discouraged from ever being played again."

Jimin helps clean because he's literally an angel walking among mere mortals. You walk them to the door, hyperaware of Jungkook still hovering in his doorway like the creep he is.

"Text me," Yeji mutters as she hugs you goodbye.

The door closes behind them. When you turn around, Jungkook's gone, door clicking shut like he was never there.

Typical.

You stare at his closed door for a moment, thinking about garlic bread and panic and things that don't make sense.

Whatever. Not your problem.

You're going to commit a murder tonight.

Your friends left hours ago, and you've been trying to wind down—reading, scrolling through TikTok, attempting to be a functional human being who sleeps before their 8AM class. But someone apparently decided 2AM was the perfect time to practice his goddamn electric guitar.

The electric guitar riffs pierce through your wall for the hundredth time, each note a personal attack on your sanity.

Who the fuck plays at 2AM? Who? What kind of sociopath—

Another chord progression. Louder this time.

You grab your pillow, smothering a scream into it as your nails dig into the fabric. Eight AM class tomorrow. Eight. Fucking. AM. And this absolute waste of oxygen is out there having his main character moment like he's the star of some teen angst movie.

Fuck him. Actually fuck him. And fuck past you for fucking him in the first place. Yeah, okay, he's hot. Fine. But does that really balance out this? The constant noise and the attitude and the way he acts like the whole world revolves around him?

The guitar gets louder, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Pain in the ass doesn't even cover it. Pain in places that don't have medical names yet. Pain in the fucking soul.

You snatch your phone off the nightstand, fingers flying over the keyboard:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚞𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝟾𝚊𝚖 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 🖕🏻

The guitar stops. Thank god. Thank every possible—

A low chuckle filters through the wall.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚞

Your blood pressure spikes.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚜𝚝𝚐 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚗 𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚡?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚛 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞,𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑

A pause. Then:

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚢 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

You actually growl.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚏𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚢 🙄

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝟷𝟸??

Another chord rings out. Deliberately slow. Testing.

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗?

You: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛? You: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚢?

The guitar stops. Complete silence. Maybe you went too far, bringing up—

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚖

Your heart definitely doesn't skip. Absolutely does not.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛? 🙄

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍

You stare at your phone. At the wall separating your rooms. At your reflection in the dark window, hair a mess and eyes too bright.

This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚞𝚑 𝚑𝚞𝚑

𝐊𝐮𝐤𝐨🖕🏻: 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍

Fuck.

Your feet hit the floor before you can think better of it. And isn't that just the whole problem? You never think better of it. Not with him.

So yeah, you make it to his room. Where the devil sleeps.

Your eyes sweep over his walls, taking in all the black and red and—yep, exactly what you expected. Some alt-boy Pinterest board threw up in here. Black wooden bed with those lumberjack pattern sheets, gaming setup that probably cost more than your tuition, wardrobe that's definitely hiding at least three identical black hoodies.

No windows. Makes sense. Vampires and all that.

He's sprawled on the bed like some renaissance painting gone wrong, all long limbs and messy hair like he's been rolling around like a dog marking its territory. The guitar sits easy in his lap, familiar. Natural.

Not that you notice. Or care.

His eyes flick to you, that insufferable smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He doesn't stop playing, just watches as you hover in his doorway like—nope. Not finishing that thought.

"Didn't think you'd actually come."

"Didn't think you'd actually know how to play." You step into his space, ignoring how the air feels different in here. Heavier. "Yet here we are, disappointing each other."

He snorts, fingers still moving over the strings. Something slower now, almost melodic. "Always so sweet, phoenix."

"Always so annoying, rogue."

But you find yourself moving closer, drawn by the way the notes fill the space between you. It's... not terrible. Actually kind of good, if you're being honest. Which you're not. Obviously.

"What?" He catches you watching his hands. "Surprised I can do something besides annoy you?"

"Mostly surprised you can do anything besides game and be a pain in my ass."

His grin turns wicked. "Pretty sure I do more than that to your—"

"Finish that sentence and die."

He laughs, low and warm, but goes back to playing. Something different now. Softer. You hate that you want to ask what it is.

"Didn't take you for a musician." The words slip out before you can stop them.

His fingers stutter on the strings. Just for a second, barely noticeable. But you notice.

"No?" His voice is carefully casual. Too casual. "What did you take me for?"

"I don't know. Professional asshole? Chief Expert in Being Insufferable?" You comment, flicking a small plushie on his bed. "First Chair Fuck-Up?"

He huffs a laugh, but something's off about it. Like earlier with Griffin. That same weird tension.

"Used to play in a band," he says after a moment. Still not looking at you. "Back in high school."

"Let me guess—My Chemical Romance covers?"

"Nah." His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Original stuff. Mostly."

You wait for more, but he just keeps playing. That same soft melody, over and over. Like he's trying to get it right. Or trying to forget something else.

"It's good."

The words surprise you both. His hands freeze on the strings, eyes snapping to yours.

"The song," you clarify, because apparently your mouth's just doing whatever it wants now. "It's... not horrible."

He stares at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression—that cocky mask slipping just slightly. Then:

"Want to hear the whole thing?"

And maybe it's the late hour. Maybe it's the way he's looking at you, all quiet uncertainty beneath that usual swagger. Maybe you're just fucking tired.

"Yeah." You slide down to sit on his floor, back against the bed. "Show me what you got, rogue."

He starts playing something different. Not that angry teenage angst from earlier—this is... softer. More careful. Like he's showing you something he doesn't usually let people see.

Not that you care. Obviously.

The melody wraps around the room, settling into the spaces between your breaths. Your eyes track his hands, the way his fingers move over the strings with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. It's... nice. Which is annoying. Everything about him is annoying, including the way he makes this look so effortless, the slight furrow in his brow as he concentrates—

Wait.

You know this song.

The notes hit something in your chest—a memory you didn't know you still had.

Your mom's old radio, the one she kept in the garden.

This exact song came on while you were planting flame lilies along the back fence. Then the storm hit—one of those sudden summer downpours that turns the whole world grey.

But instead of running inside like a normal person, your mom just... laughed. Turned the radio up louder, John Mayer's voice competing with the thunder. Grabbed your hands, still covered in dirt, and pulled you into a clumsy dance right there in the rain.

We're slow dancing in a burning room...

You'd both ended up soaked, mud-splattered, spinning in circles while the rain poured down. She'd sung along, completely off-key but not caring. Just you and her and this song, the rest of the world washed away in the storm.

The memory feels wrong now. Too bright. Too clean. Like looking at an old photograph and realizing all the edges have been carefully trimmed, the shadows cropped out.

Because that was before, wasn't it? Before the schedules and the expectations and the constant, crushing weight of—

"Is that—" You cut yourself off, but it's too late. He glances up, catches you staring.

"What?"

You blink. Jungkook's watching you, hands paused on the strings.

"Nothing."

His fingers hover over the guitar. "No, what were you gonna say?"

"Just..." Fuck it. "Pretty sure that's 'Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.' Right?"

Something flickers across his face. "You know Mayer?"

"Unfortunately." You pick at a loose thread on your sleep shorts. "My playlist's not just WAP and Carpool Karaoke, contrary to what you probably think."

He huffs a laugh, but it sounds different. Less cocky asshole, more... something else. His fingers start moving again, picking up where he left off. The notes fill the silence between you, and it's... peaceful? Is that the word? No, that can't be right. Nothing about him is peaceful.

And yet.

"Do you sing too?"

His hands freeze on the strings. Just for a second, but you catch it. The way his shoulders tense, how his jaw ticks slightly before he forces that easy smile back.

"Nah." He starts playing again, but it's different now. Mechanical. "That's... that'd be embarrassing."

There's something in his voice. Something raw that makes you think of earlier, of his panic over Griffin and bread. But before you can chase that thought, he's already shifting gears.

"What, you offering voice lessons, phoenix?"

"As if." You roll your eyes, but you clock the way his fingers are slightly less sure on the strings now. "Just thought maybe you'd want to torture me with your whole package of terrible talents."

"Oh, I've got plenty of talents to torture you with."

"Gross."

But he's relaxing again, that weird tension leaving his shoulders as the conversation drifts back to familiar territory. Safe territory. He keeps playing, and you definitely don't notice how the melody gets smoother, more confident, like maybe he needed the distraction of your bickering to find his rhythm again.

Speaking of distractions—you glance around the room, frowning. "Where's Griffin?"

"Thought he was with you."

"What?" You blink at him. "You never let him sleep with anyone else."

"Well." He sets the guitar aside, stretches like some oversized cat. "You can now."

"I can... what?"

"Have him." He shrugs, but there's something careful in the movement. "For the night. If you want."

You stare at him. He stares back, that almost-smile still playing at his lips.

What the actual fuck is happening right now?

"Who are you and what have you done with my asshole roommate?"

He laughs, and just like that, the weird tension breaks. "Aw, you think I'm yours? That's cute, phoenix."

"I think you're a pain in my ass," you correct, but it lacks heat. Maybe because you're tired. Maybe because he just played something beautiful and shared his cat and you don't know what to do with any of it.

"Only sometimes." He stretches again, shirt riding up. You definitely don't look. "Other times I'm a pain somewhere else—"

You throw the nearest object (a pencil) at his head. "And we're back to normal."

His laugh follows you as you leave, hunting for Griffin. You tell yourself the warm feeling in your chest is just satisfaction at finding new ammunition for future arguments.

He's actually good at something. Who knew?

And if you catch yourself humming "Slow Dancing" as you search for the cat... well.

Nobody has to know.

next | index

⋆｡°✩ taglist✩°｡⋆

@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

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starfleetteddybear · 3 days ago

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Ah! What a glorious feeling crawling into bed, cup of tea in hand, ready to indulge with some quality fanfiction kindle time. Especially if it’s another rendition of Emmrich and Rook rated R kissing.

Everyday I wake up to like 30 emails from ao3 of all these great fics updating and …I feel like that meme where Sabrina is eating all that food she can’t decide which first. It’s such a great problem to have! I thought I’d just take a minute to share a selection of stories I have on my radar and am absolutely loving! Maybe others will find a new favorite? 🤩

Gotta catch up with some amazing works:

@nerdanel01 has put out new chapters for their stories featuring Agnes and Emmrich. So excited to check those out! What a treat waiting for me. You created such a slow burn yearning. 😩 It’s such a high I haven’t come down from still.

@tethrawke I gotta finish that last little bit of your story Hope Dream featuring Hawke and Varric. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🙌

@crackinglamb Gotta get caught up on your story The Turning Tide. The way you write about Iron Bull…I… He wasn’t even on my radar! You did so well! I’m hooked! 🪝

@emmg Literally I’ve loved everything you have ever written. Seriously, you could have your Rook and Emmrich fucking in a cardboard box and you’d find a way to make it inspired and sexy. Honestly, I think about you and @eavangeek on the same wavelength because you both just take an interesting premise and turn it into something absolutely amazing. Like Rumpelstiltskin turning straw into gold. 💕

@farore05 I am loving your story Amaretto Sour. And I can’t WAIT for how you get rid of Johanna. Hate that woman (in your story) with a fiery passion already and we just met her. 🤬

@heylittleriotact I heard people are dying to get in here is such an interesting premise. I didn’t even know I would enjoy a modern au of Emmrich but…👀👀👀👀 You have my attention. As if you didn’t already from the other stories you put out already.

@livingmeetthedead I absolutely love the way you are writing Emmrich’s pov in your story Quietus. It’s so unique and not many people are doing that! I don’t think I could write his pov very well…I might try at some point but I think you do such a good job at it! Honestly, I’d say the way you are doing it is inspired. 🥰 You’re doing amazing sweetie!

@andthekitchensinkao3 “If the notion appeals, Pari… I’m going to put my face between your legs and eat you like a ripe peach. And that’s only the beginning of the things I want to do with you.”OMG Somebody call the coroner (heylittleriotact) because I’m dead. 😵 so freaking 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@tired-truffle I know you just wrote that one shot about King Alistair and his queen warden but… 👀 God I loved it so freaking much. I hope you do more because you captured his voice and personality perfect in “Ball and Chain.”

@sabine79 You have been feeding us so good with Arsenic and Myrrh I literally can’t keep up. 🙌💕 NOT a complaint. I feel bad I have fallen so far behind. Forgive me because I love how you got your two “rooks” going on and I love how you have both a Lucanis/Rook situation and a Emmrich/Rook situation going on.

@templarkicker Your story “Once When You Walked Beside Me” has me in a chokehold. They were together and then BROKE UP before DAV? And then they are getting back to get her from lovers to strangers to lovers again? 😩🙌🔥

@sunny374940 I have so enjoyed getting to read your stories. Please keep sharing and posting them with us. What a delight to get a new update to my inbox from you. I loved how you took your Rook/Emmrich on their honeymoon recently. And the babywearing? So freaking cute!!!🥰 and I love you have your own original work going on too, “Damn Sky Wales.”

@woundedsoul12 Rook’s letter to Emmrich after Tearstone Island? Broke my heart! 😭 Seriously, great job with the angst. I’ve loved all your other dragon age stories too!

And a special shout out to @redheadsramblings because you are such a supportive sweetie. Everytime I (virtually) turn around you are there. And I see you all over tumblr and ao3 too! Absolute sweetheart. 💚

#best fanfic ever #best fanfiction around #ao3 fanfic #emmrich x rook #emmrich volkarin #emmrich romance #dragon age emmrich #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #da veilguard #dragon age #emmrook

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deadbeatbirdmom · 3 days ago

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Happy Valentine's Day my fellow RWBY fans. This should be a day focused on love. Which is why I'm going to talk about something that's been troubling me for a while. This isn't about any single post, and I'm not singling anyone out. I'd put this under a read more cut but I think it's important enough not to do that. Scroll down for TLDR and a poll.

One of the common courtesies of tumblr etiquette is: don't tag hate with things like a ship tag or character tag. Or should be common, but let's face it, it's more like uncommon.

A good chunk of tumblr users who I end up blocking are those who post hate in tags like the 'Bumbleby' tag, or 'Yang Xiao Long' tag (it'd be the 'RWBY' tag too, but I don't often go there and rarely post in it). No, it's not toxic to block people, it's how you control your tumblr experience. It's how I avoid seeing hate, or try to.

But there are some tumblr users who I don't want to block but also end up putting hate in the tags: some of my fellow fans. It's not intended the same way as those who do it out of spite, but the end result is the same: your fellow fans end up seeing stuff they might prefer not to.

There's another rule, an old one that predates tumblr: don't feed the trolls. Don't give them attention. Please delete anon hate rather than answer it, although I definitely understand how trolling trolls can be fun. Just please don't tag it with the main tags or you'll do the anon's work for them if it's hate about a ship or character.

I see all too much fan art around that gets far less engagement than posts trying to fight back against hate (and unfortunately share the hate at the same time, especially when it's something from elsewhere like reddit or twitter). If you like the art, don't only hit that heart button, reblog it too!

RWBY fandom isn't dead, but we do need to do our part to encourage artists to make and share more art. Likes alone don't help the art get in front of more fans. I don't think everyone looks in the tags to find art, some will rely on those they follow reblogging art. This goes for sharing fic too! And giving fic writers comments (and kudos on AO3).

This is an appeal to keep negativity out of the main tags. I'm not saying you can't post whatever you want, just when it comes to tagging: please spare a thought for your fellow fans who are incredibly tired of negativity. If all else fails, maybe include a tag that can be added to filters? 'Wasps' for posts about Bumbleby hate, maybe?

I don't know about anyone else, but if I wanted to see hate and get angry, I'd be on twitter or reddit. I check tags here on tumblr to find fan art, and to see fellow fans talking about how much they love RWBY and its characters and ships, and find interesting theories and analysis.

I'm also not entirely sure how tumblr works with followed tags and words mentioned in posts. Do untagged posts still show up if the word appears in the post? Does that mean breaking the word with a backslash or something to avoid it showing up? I don't know, perhaps something to consider.

TLDR: please don't feed the trolls and don't tag hate with main tags. Show RWBY fan artists and fic writers some love and reblog their posts, and comment on fics!

One last thing: a poll to find out if I'm an outlier and posting hate is actually normal in this post-twitter world.

#Bumbleby #RWBY

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aziraphalianfangirl · 6 hours ago

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Reblogging to let any fans of good omens know that the tinhatters are still out there making content claiming David and Michael actually hate their children and families and are only with them "out of obligation" whilst having a secret torrid affair on the side.

This is one of the reasons I stepped away from the go fandom, plus what happened with neil, being almost cancelled and then learning we were only getting a 90 min episode. The horrible way with which people treated each other, calling horrible names to fellow fans just because they were disappointed, the creepy obsession and parasocial relationship with David and Michael, all of it.

And it all started with me happily scrolling through the good omens/David/Michael tag and coming across this blog's unhinged posts (along with many others) claiming David, his son, and Georgia's father loathed Georgia. Why you ask? Because she claimed they were sending a "secret message" with their facial expressions during a joke at a doctor who photoshoot. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP. At this point these people are erotomaniacs except instead of thinking the celebrity they don't know is in love with them and sending them messages, they believe they're sending them to another celebrity, his secret lover. (David and Michael)

There used to be a blog who dared to call out their shitty and toxic behaviour but unfortunately, as far as the fandom knows, that person passed away from cancer. That absolutely shook me and it was the last straw. It was too much heartbreak and I was never able to engage with the go fandom again.

If you don't want to see any creepy posts about Michael/David or unhinged posts talking shit about their loved ones Georgia and Anna, you can still visit dtmsrpfcringe and check out her block list. I strongly advise, for your own mental health, to just block these people and not engage. Maybe someday someone else will be brave enough/patient enough to call these people out but sometimes it's just not worth it for our mental health to engage with these people. They would literally send horrible anon hate and deny and gaslight their way into believing their delusions. They wouldn't answer any asks asking them for proof of their theories either. I do not believe these people want any help. They have a group of followers who also believe the "theory" and they use everything Michael and David do in public to justify that they are secretly gay, together and hate their current partners.

This might sound super dramatic and dumb but it absolutely ruined the fandom experience for me. I used to love seeing Georgia's and Anna's content, along with random David and Michael content but now every time I see it I just think about the mean spirited and creepy posts some people are using them for.

Also, they use RPF as justification for their behaviour

I am not a personal fan of rpf but I follow the "don't like, don't read rule". Rpf is a sub genre of fanfiction using real people's names and descriptions (actors, musicians, celebrities, etc) instead of fictional characters.

What rpf is NOT: obsessively stalking an actor's family, friends, routine, whereabouts, and making up rumours about their real life claiming them as TRUTH.

These people are not making up RPF stories about Michael and David, which can be clearly labelled as such on ao3 and therefore be recognised as fanfiction. They are making up stories about them and claiming them to be true, using extensive footage, photos and blind items (a gossip blog with no sources) as evidence.

I literally cannot do this anymore. I have these blogs blocked but the other day they showed up as a reblog as I was scrolling Tumblr. It was an absolutely creepy and uncomfortable comment under GIFs of David describing Michael in an interview, joking about wanting to be a Vet Detective and Michael being an old dog he would put down. THEY USE THIS AS IRREFUTABLE EVIDENCE THAT THESE MEN ARE FUCKING AND TREAT ANYONE WHO DISAGREES OR POINTS OUT THE CREEPINESS AS BULLIES ATTACKING THEM!

They have pinned posts on their blogs claiming to be victims of anon hate and bullying while we all watched as the only blog that was created to call them out received disgusting and horrible anon hate.

If they got them or not I don't know, but I know damn well they sent a lot of it.

I'm sorry for rambling but I just want any of my followers to know about this and for the sake of your mental health stay away

Amy, (aka ingravinoveritas) I am going to say this as kindly as possible. And please, please, please read all of this before you block me. David and Georgia have been together for 16 years. They are a couple who trust each other, and more importantly, they are best friends. I have no idea if you've ever been in a relationship before, but there are some relationships who love to tease each other with dry, dark humor. because thats what some friends do. My parents included. its actually what I love most about them, and they've been together for nearly 25 years now. its what me and my close close friends do as well. It all comes down to trust. kind of like a "hey! only my partner can say that about me!" type of thing. it works for some people, and for other people, not so much. and thats okay! Not everyone has to have the same love language! however, you do not get to dictate what type of love language is best for David and Georgia just because it doesn't match your ideas of what a healthy relationship looks like. there are several types of healthy relationships that come in all shapes and sizes.

I also have no idea what your nationality is, but British humor is a LOT dryer than American humor.

There is nothing off about David "looking into the distance" as he gets his makeup done, or when he looks out a goddamn window for christ's sake. You do not know this man. I know you wish you did, hell, I wish I did too, but you don't. You don't get to decide what feels "off" about the way he acts, because he is not the Doctor. he is not his character on Staged. he is not Crowley.

He is a regular human being who you've only met at a stage door and watched on television.

also, Georgia gets to post whatever the hell she wants on her story because at the end of the day, its HER story. shes allowed to be excited for free skincare. I know I'd be! she's allowed to post black and white photos of David. you complain when she doesn't mention David on her story, and then you find something to complain about when she does. so don't come on here with "I dont wish for them to be miserable" because you pray to god every day that David is in an unhealthy relationship with Georgia and that he's sleeping with Michael on the side.

also, stop calling him a gigolo. For everyone's sake.

(just wanted to post this pic cuz shes so fucking pretty 🥰)

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xyfleurian · 3 days ago

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✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ cupcake's poetry

Chosen Pairing : Caitlyn Kiramman x Vi

CaitVi Week Day 1 Prompt : Heartthrob!Caitlyn and Heartache!Vi

Word Count : 1,039 words || ao3 link

Ficlet Song : apple cider - beabadoobee

“Writing poems for my sister again, Caitycat?” Jinx excitedly greets from behind the bench, startling Caitlyn who was in the middle of writing an outline for her English class essay.

“Jinx! Gods, don't scare me like that,” Caitlyn complains, and Jinx simply sits down beside her while peering into her notepad.

“Sheesh, an essay? Boo-ring! Go write a love letter or something,” Jinx teases, knowing her sister's relationship with Caitlyn.

She's paraded herself as their biggest fan, creating ship names and writing cringy fanfiction of the two just to annoy Caitlyn, whilst Vi found it hilarious. Caitlyn kept on outlining her essay while Jinx simply stared, it seemed like she was genuinely determined to see what Caitlyn prepared for the day of love. Caitlyn sighed and set down her pen.

“Will you leave me alone once I let you read a part of it?”

“Prolly not, if it's not good can I use those skeet shooting stuff at your place?” Jinx asks, and Caitlyn finally understands why the girl had gone to her.

Caitlyn and Jinx have recently bonded over the guns that they were both enthralled with guns and shooting targets. The only difference was that Caitlyn liked rifles and Jinx preferred firearms that caused more damage, she was more into destroying than being calculated. She claims it helps with regulating her emotions, which Caitlyn understood and Vi encouraged.

“I suppose the skatepark not giving you enough dopamine?”

“Nah, that's more like Vi's thing. I like shooting shit like you do, got tired of unmoving cans,” Jinx confesses, sinking into the seat, a contrast to Caitlyn's prim and proper demeanor.

“Anyway, gimme the deets about the poem, Caity. I need to check if you have enough guts to make my hardheaded sister swoon,” she adds, causing Caitlyn to chuckle out loud as she hands her the notebook. Guess they weren't all that different, after all.

—

“Oh, Violet!” Jinx greets in a sing-songy voice, skating through their kitchen with her backpack as Vi was piping icing on top of the cupcakes she was making.

“Jinx, no shoes in the house! You know the rules, you don't wanna mop again, do you?” Vi blurted, focusing on the cupcakes as Jinx pouted before putting her shoes away.

Vander always assigned mopping duties to one of her brothers, however, whenever one of them set their shoes into the house, the mopping duties would be placed onto them for a week. Jinx begrudgingly set her shoes down by the door and walked in her blue cat socks on back to the kitchen, tapping her sister on the shoulder before she slips one of the sliced strawberries into her mouth. Vi gasped out loud about it.

“Hey, that was for Cait!” Vi exclaims, attempting to steal the fruit back but Jinx was already chewing.

“Of course it is, nice berries though. Or aggregate fruit, I dunno, I don't pay attention to botany. But hey, look at you! My sister's down bad for the school heartthrob,” Jinx replies, stealing a blueberry from the bowl.

Vi rolls her eyes and simply finishes up with piping her icing, since there was only one more cupcake remaining. Vi took one of the sprinkle shakers, scattering violet sprinkles all over the pink icing. The cupcakes somehow oddly resembled someone with strawberry blonde hair, but Vi shrugged it off as she added the fruits and berries as toppings.

“What are you doing tomorrow? No gifts?” Vi asks, carefully placing the fruits on berries on the cupcakes. She didn't want Caitlyn to think that she half-assed making her gift.

“Eh, going on a date, I guess. A girl asked me out so...”

“Really? That's surprising.”

“Hey! I can pull as much as you do, I'm just chilling around and waiting for someone to pursue me,” Jinx replies, rather offended.

“Of course, of course. My bad, your highness,” Vi answers, earning herself a hit on the back of her head from Jinx.

Jinx immediately runs away before Vi could pull on one of her braids as payback, running upstairs to escape from her annoyed sister. Vi shakes her head and returns her attention to the cupcakes, each in their respective places in the box. She places the cupcake box inside the fridge, thinking back on how she'd slip these into Caitlyn's locker.

—

School doesn't start until 8 in the morning, and yet Vi was here at exactly 7. There were a few students walking around, but none that would exactly notice her if she was careful and sneaky. None of them knew about Caitlyn and Vi, and Vi had simply assumed that it was because Caitlyn didn't want to be associated with her crew. That was something she understood from the start.

She found Caitlyn's locker, forcibly prying it open with her gauntlets before anyone could see. She was about to leave the cupcakes inside and leave when she heard a voice.

“You could've just given them to me directly, Violet. You do know that destroys the hinges of my locker, right? You've done this before,” Caitlyn says from behind, and Vi slowly faces her. She had been unfortunately caught in the act.

Vi notices that Caitlyn alone had gotten the attention of everyone who had already arrived, and she finally feels the need to sink into the ground. If only the floor would swallow her so she wouldn't deal with this, but then Caitlyn smiles at her, like how she often does when they're alone together. Caitlyn then hands Vi a heart shaped card and a small bag of little dark chocolates, Vi's favorite.

“Happy Valentine's Day, Vi.”

Vi pauses, not expecting Caitlyn to greet her as such in the hallway while their peers watched. But now she knows, Caitlyn was not embarrassed to be with her because of her crew. Caitlyn loves her back enough to give her a card right in front of the other heartthrobs, and Vi's heart flutters.

“Happy Valentine's Day, cupcake.”

—

From my gardens there grew beautiful violets,

The elegance even noticeable if daylit,

At first, my heart and I were skeptical,

Thinking I'd never need something nonsensational,

But the absence of it broke me into pieces,

And I'd never once again disregard these brilliancies.

— Caitlyn

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creamecafe · 2 months ago

Note

hii could u write something for Dae-ho set in the mingle game and its basically just him protecting reader and always keeping them at his side. 🫶🫶🫶

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

Summary: What the request says

Pairing: Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, comfort, pining

Word Count:

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

It's a miracle that you have made it to the third game. You were sure you were going to die in the second game, but thanks to the team you had, you were more than determined to still stay alive

Out of all them, there was one that you kept looking at. Dae-Ho. You couldn't help but find him cute. This certainly wasn't the place to have feelings as you could die before telling him.

It was the same for Dae-Ho, trying to make sure everyone is ok and that the team survives. But it was something with you.

He felt safe with you, and wanted to protect you. Even if it meant giving his life for you.

The announcement for the third game came, you were worried, but wanted it to be over it. Dae-Ho noticed you being anxious and asked if you okay

"Are you okay?"

You stopped zoning out and looked at him with your heart pounding.

"What? Y-yes I'm ok thank you." Nodding trying to reassure yourself.

"I think this might be the last game I play in." You chuckled knowing deep inside you dreaded the idea

"Hey look at me."

You did as he said. "Don't say that, you have us."

He held out your hand to hold it. You looked at it and hesitated putting your hand out but you held it. A tight squeeze was given but not too rough. It was a sign of reassuring.

He gives you a smile and you did too not of full happiness but someone is here to care about you.

All of you guys were called for the game. You got up and stayed close to Dae-Ho. He looked back at you and nodded. You did the same.

It was the same, climbing up those colorful but dreading stairs to the next game. Every minute or two, Dae-Ho made sure you were right behind him.

You finally reached the game and saw a carousel in the middle with horses and so many doors of different bright colors for a Pre-K setting.

"Welcome to your third game." The woman's voice from the previous games you heard came on the speakers.

"The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Turning your head to look at Dae-Ho, he's already looking at you.

You quickly look away not to make the situation worse. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable as well.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging." Jung-bae exclaimed.

"Yeah. Instead of hugging, we go into those rooms" Dae-Ho mentioned.

"If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need." Gi-Hun

And if it's less than that? You thought in your mind

"But what if it's smaller than five? Like three or four

You turned your head to Dae-Ho. It's like he read your mind exactly.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," Young-il nods. "We'll make it out together. Here."

Those words echoing in your mind, there wasn't enough time to doubt if your group would stick with you.

You've seen how quickly people are to turn against each other especially in the Red Light, Green Light.

But you're more than determined to stay alive, just to see Dae-Ho's face every chance you get.

Young-il puts the back side of hand out to form a truce. One by one, everyone is putting their hands on top of each other. You were the last one.

"Y/N. Are you in?" Gi-Hun asks.

Dae-Ho looks at you with worry in his eyes. You had no choice and no knowledge of trusting others in this game, so you put your hand out on top.

Dae-Ho becomes relieved at this.

"One, two, three. Victory at all costs."

Sighing at this with relief, you guys begin to spread out. The carousel is starting to spin

People scream out in fear. Lights go out and the light in the middle where horses out lights ups and music plays.

Children are singing about holding hands and ringing around.

Dae-Ho holds your hand lightly. He grazes your hand with his thumb. You don't look at him, as you fear you'll die doing so.

It suddenly stops. The number is 9. People are running out frantically pairing in groups of 9. Dae-Ho doesn't let go of your hand.

"We need 3 more." You said. Your group ran looking for 3 more.

A old lady, her son and another woman goes up to you guys.

"Are you guys 3?" Young-il asks

"Yes we're." The old lady nods frantically.

"Quickly we got to get into a room" Gi Hun exclaims

Your feet were starting to move, but the grip of Dae-Ho holding your hand made you move even faster.

All of you guys rushed into a room and closed the door. The room was filled with heavy breaths. There was a click on the lock meaning that the room was closed and nobody can get in or out.

Right now, you have never been more grateful to be alive in playing a game

It wasn't long before you heard gunshots, and it was safe to assume it was those who didn't pair up or get into rooms in time.

Now that you're safe, you look at Dae-Ho and he does too.

"Is everyone ok?" Dae-Ho asks

There was a lot of yes. That answer might change throughout the game seeing how long each of us might last.

The door lock clicked and you guys were allowed to come out. There were bodies on the floors and blood splattered. "Take off your mind off those bodies or you'll be one of them" Your mind was telling yourself.

"We got this" Dae-Ho talks to you

"We do" You smiled. Don't know how many smiles it will take to keep going, but you're ready to prove his point.

The game started again and the carousel spins. You hold out to Dae-Ho's hand.

Now the number was 4. Young-il grabs Jung-Bae and goes to find two more people. That's left Gi-Hun, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho and you left.

There was no time to waste. All four you ran to a room and locked yourself in. Gi-Hun was looking around for Young-il. You pulled him back in.

The gunshots came again. The lesser the number, the more likely people will betray each other.

How long this game will last, you don't know. All you know is that you have people here to help you. Even if it's just one person, it makes all the difference.

The doors clicked and it was time for another round. The panic and adrenaline of it all keeps coming back. But Dae-Ho is making sure you're by his side, even if he may die in the game as well.

Six the group was. Dae-Ho said you and him were going to go and find another group. Luckily you did and you managed to still be alive locked in a room.

Now it all came down to the very last game. There were less people than the game started. You wanted to finish this for once and for all. While the carousel was spinning and music playing, you place yourself in movement ready to run and holding Dae-Ho's hand.

"2" The voice said.

It felt like time was going slow once it announced the number. Everybody is rushing to get into a room. Time's running out.

You felt a hand pull you back and you fell to the ground. Dae-Ho heard your scream and saw someone trying to stop you from going into a room. Someone else was already in the room that you guys were planning to go into.

Dae-Ho could go into the room and that would already make it two. But he's made it too far to leave you.

He ran and punched the guy that pushed you. He put you back on your feet and dragged the other guy out. He slammed the door shut and the timer just came to zero. The guy on the other side begs and bangs on the door.

A pink guard shoots him and the noises stop.

"Are you ok?" Dae-Ho rushes to you.

Still shaken at what happened, at the fact you almost died if it wasn't for him to save you, you nodded.

"Yes I am. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence between you too as you were catching your breaths.

The door clicked and you both came out.

"Y/N! Dae-Ho!" Both of your names were being called

Gi-Hun, Young-il, Jung-Bae and Jun-Hee run up to you guys and you all hug each other.

"I'm so glad you guys are ok." Jun-Hee smiles

You're also relieved that everyone else is fine and made it out alive. You could return back to the dorms.

Walking down back the stairs and into the dorms, everyone was mostly silent but some talked.

You ran up and tapped Dae-Ho on the shoulder.

"Hey Dae-Ho?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"You could have gone into the room where the other guy before you dragged him out, why didn't you?"

Dae-Ho took a pause before responding.

"I have lost many people when I was a marine, seen people get killed in front of me. I can't let it happen to you."

He starts to become close to you but not too close.

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll make sure you're fine. That's a promise I tend to keep Y/N."

Those words stuck with you. You could die in the next game, but right here at this moment is a reason to keep going.

Taglist:

@hobinistaworld

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Kang Dae-Ho Masterlist | Join my taglist!

#creamecafe #kang daeho #daeho #squid game #squid game spoilers #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #kdrama #dae ho x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #squid game fanfic #kang daeho x reader #pining #slow burn #jang x reader #mingle squid game #please reach the right audience

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occudo · 5 months ago

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An incomplete list of TMA fics I adore

-beacuse of this ask

(If you liked the fics I previously recommended/made fanart for, I think you'll gonna like these as well, but you know, read the tags, know what you are going into)

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey @cirrus-grey

Time Travel Fix-it! Slow burn! So good! So much sass from future!Jon- I doubt I have to introduce anyone this amazing author, but if you somehow missed them till now, this is your time! I highly recommend all of their other fics as well, for example one of a more recent one, The Stranger I Know Best is also a lovely read.

enthralling by Prim_the_Amazing @primtheamazing

Vampire!Martin!! I have no words of how much I love this concept, this story, everything about this. I think I'm going to repeat myself through this list, but I also recommend everything else they've written!

to fill... my heart with music? by godshaper @godshaper so their Martin and Jon design are different from mine, also they made a way better art for this- but still, I wanted to include this really good fic in this list.

Do It All Anew by inkfingers_mcgee or @crit20art

You know the feeling when you read a book that makes you cry, and after that you recommend it to your friend? Well- there is no reason I mentioned this, I'm just so normal about this fic. Or any other fic from inkfingers_mcgee... like Strange Manner of what I made another fanart way back. Also, check out their art!

Anyway, here is Aamal- she is not going to cause emotional damage.

And they were sidekicks (oh my god, they were sidekicks) by arthureameslove @arthureameslove

A lighthearted series where Jon and Martin are sidekicks of supervillains- it's just a really fun fic, also recommend everyting from this author - I previously draw fanart here for an other fic of theirs Like a Lighthouse, Call Me Home

neither sad, nor sick, nor merry, nor well by saintbleeding @saintbleeding

To quote the aurthour: "Post-divorce Jon and Martin in a wedding-based romcom" It's such a comfort read, also has a Tim/Sasha wedding, and lots of cameos! I realised most of these authors I made fanarts for before- like this one for some kind of miraculous bind, this one is oneshot and a bit more serious in tone.

Give Me the Words by rakel @rakel-on-ao3

"Jon and Martin try to make the most of a bad situation in the Scottish Highlands. The situation is worse than they realised." You know that one post about wanting to write PWP, but it keeps turning into character study? Well, this one comes to my mind each time I see that.

i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by heartshapedguy @transgenderboobs

So what would have happened if instead of the cot (tm), Jon offered Martin his own flat to stay? There is no way it's going to change their relationship, right? Such a good read, if you want some fluff, I highly recommend it!

Lucky Stars by magnetarmadda @magnetarmadda

Martin has a lovely family (except his mother) but still, he needs a fake boyfriend, and Jon comes to the rescue. It's one of the first fics I remember reading after I finished the series. It is such a comfort read of mine~

(+enjoy a rare tall Jon from me)

There are so many more fics that also deserve the spotlight, these are just the ones I read multiple times and/or didn't made fanarts for before. If you find something here you like, give them some love! Kudos and comments! They deserve it. (Also, just an extra disclamier some of these are PWP or rated T- just mind the tags)

I tried to link and tag everything, I hope it works.

#occudo's art #tma fanart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fic rec #so many fic!#thanks for every author who made all of these #and sorry if I forgot to include someone #I tried my best #but sometimes my goldfish memory wins #anyway #good reading!#if you find something here you like give them some love #comments and kudos #long post

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watermonstah · 8 hours ago

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Omg thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!! This makes me want to jump with joy!!! Best birthday gift ever!!!

Also everyone who hasn't read toovirgins' fics yet and enjoys reading about the beatles then please go check her out!! She is really good, I thoroughly recommend reading her stuff. You can find her as wavesof_joy on ao3!

Side note for lucy specifically:

I've wanted to tell you this for a long time now actually. I think out of all the beatles and mclennon fics I've read on ao3 (and I've read so many that I've lost count) nothing can really compare to your works. I think you've really mastered the art of getting your readers hooked and immersed in your stories. You pull us into your world with the very first sentence and it makes the reader (or me atleast) feel like I'm there with the characters. Feeling what they're feeling and seeing what they're seeing. You've got fantastic worldbuilding skills and I think you really grasp when a scene should be fast paced or slower. Your chapters never feel dragged out and the fabulous cliffhanger you often end your chapters with keeps the reader on their toes and makes them want to read your story even more. I think you've got a lot of skill and I hope you never stop writing, because stories like yours make people like me very happy!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59579074/chapters/161698732

I Don't Want To Spoil the Party - Chapter 11

Summary: Rising musician Paul McCartney accidentally kisses film star John Lennon at a party. The two have different ideas about what this means for their careers - and themselves.

Chapter summary: A long time coming, Paul and John finally decide to try and have some sort of talk.

wow! it was about time this chapter happened. i was hoping i'd be able to get this one off in time for valentine's day, but alas. we can just pretend. also, happy late birthday to @watermonstah - i hope you enjoy!!

i think the link embed was being weird again, so if the one above doesn't work, you can click here. <3

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

#snitches the cat au #dp x dc #dc x dp

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dramaticals · 7 months ago

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DRAMIONE FIC RECS + WHY YOU SHOULD READ THEM — 100k+ words edition

hogwarts: a home by coralcollective — reimagined horcrux hunt. draco is so down bad for hermione and the smut is crazyyy. theo/hermione friendship. pansy is the breakout character and you'll love her. there's nsfw art and inappropriate use of the malfoy signet ring. please check the tags! (it says incomplete on ao3, but it's only missing epilogues so don't be afraid of starting it)

word count: 372,978

chapters: 67/70

the commoner's guide to bedding a royal by olivieblake — god, this fic!!!! it's a modern royal au and the ensemble of characters make this whole world feel so alive. it's inspired by will/kate and harry/meghan and it's sooo cute. theo and daphne were the breakout characters and i love them dearly. if you're looking for a lighthearted romcom-esque, occasionally angsty (because duh!) fic, this is it!!! i probably read this in two days which is insane considering the word count, but that should just tell you how lovely this whole fic was. there's a second part to this if you're itching for more afterwards (and it's just as good!)

word count: 503,570

chapters: 45/45

draco malfoy and the mortifying ordeal of being in love by isthisselfcare — honestly if you haven't read this yet..... this is god tier. a CLASSIC. this should be taught in the schools. hermione's a magical researcher / healer and draco's one of the best aurors out there. he's assigned to protect hermione because she's in the midst of a big discovery. hermione's not happy about it and draco isn't either. slow burn!! idiots in LOVE!! forced proximity!!!!! EMBEDDED ART!!! honestly this is the fic that made me want to learn how to bind which is so serious and if you haven't read this yet you need to.

word count: 199,548

chapters: 36/36

the disappearances of draco malfoy by speechwriter — this is my new canon. it's a deathly hallows rewrite where draco accepts dumbledore's offer to fake his death and go into hiding with the order. enemies to friends to lovers. i honestly can't even remember what happened in canon because this is IT for me.

word count: 289,780

chapters: 33/33

this world or any other series by olivieblake — includes clean (book one) and marked (book two). anything by olivieblake should be a must-read, i swear to god. this one starts as a year 6 slow burn. draco and hermione are assigned partners for potions and it all snowballs from there. olivie writes so beautifully and her characterizations for hermione / draco are so good. slight warning for marked: this destroyed me and i pretend it doesn't exist, but it's still a must-read.

word count: 118,892 & 178,268

chapters: 31/31 & 39/39

rights and wrongs series by lovesbitca8 — you want fluffy dramione? read the first two parts of the rights and wrongs series. you want dark and heavy dramione? read the auction, an alternate universe of the fluffy dramione, where voldemort wins and they all get auctioned off to death eaters. please check the tags for the voldy wins au! all three were chef's kiss and coming from someone who isn't a fan of dark aus, reading the first two helped me get through the auction because you know where draco's coming from / what's in his head. you can just read the auction without reading the first two parts unless you like catching parallels and having more depth / context (which i very much love).

word count: 174,911 & 160,297 & 325,876

chapters: 36/36 & 24/24 & 41/41

#we can also call this my dramione reading log honestly #dramione #draco x hermione #dramione fic recs #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco malfoy x hermione granger #dramione recs #talk to me about dramione because i have more recs and i will take recs i never tire of reading about them

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valeriehalla · 2 months ago

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I have gotten a lot of messages saying that they really love the presentation of CURSE/KISS/CUTE. Often the commenter in question can’t say what exactly it is about the formatting that they appreciate, but that it just reads well and looks good. Well!!! Allow me to bare my wealth of secret knowledge for you once and for all:

I sorta just did some research into book typography...?

Here’s something you should know about web development, alright: typography on the web is really, really bad. The tools we have at our disposal—HTML and CSS—are incredibly powerful, but they are set up to fight you every step of the way towards Good Typography. When you know what you’re looking for, you can fix all the common issues quickly and easily. But it’s not easy to know what to look for, because

problematic typography is overwhelmingly the norm on the web, and

good typography is invisible.

Here’s a screenshot from CURSE/KISS/CUTE episode 0:

Now, I don’t want this post to come across as prescriptive. It is not my intention to tell you, “This is what good typography looks like, so follow my lead exactly.” I made a lot of choices with the typography of my web novel: many of those choices would not make sense in other contexts. What I want to convey to you is what those choices are, so that you will know they’re available to be made.

I mentioned that the web “fights you” when it comes to good typography. What do I mean by that? Well, check this out:

This is how that passage of text renders “by default.” In other words, this is how a web browser would render that text without any input from me about what styles to apply. It kind of sucks ass! But it also looks pretty familiar, right? This is not that far off from how a lot of websites—even websites full of prose (looking at you, AO3)—render text.

I think the most illustrative thing to do here would be to walk you through my thought process and show you, step by step, what decisions I made to turn this unstyled text into the styled version you see in the novel.

So, first things first:

1. We have got to shrink that text column.

Computer monitors... are wide. They are wider than they are tall. They are so wide, and they have so many pixels. This means you can fit a lot of characters on them. If you wanted, you could just have a wall of characters from the left side of the screen all the way to the right side. Talk about efficient!!

You should never, ever, ever do this.

This is one choice that I actually will make a prescriptive statement about, because it’s supported by quite a lot of research: fairly narrow text columns are more legible. Specifically, research seems to support the idea that a width in the range of 50 to 70 characters per line is the most comfortable for people to read*. Every font is different, so it takes a little doing to turn that “characters” figure into a pixel measurement; I went with 512 CSS pixels for the maximum width of my text column:

Isn’t that just so much nicer to read already?

*A commenter reminds me that I’d be remiss not to point out that the research on column width legibility isn’t completely conclusive. You do want to limit the width of your text columns, but going over the 70 character-per-line recommendation isn’t necessarily the end of the world, and you might have good reasons to do so. I did not: as mentioned, one of my goals was to mimic book-style typography, and books by nature have fairly restrained column widths, on account of they’re books.

2. Picking a font.

I’m not going to give you the blow-by-blow on how I decided what font to use. The short story is that I asked some designers, and one of the recommendations I got was the free font Crimson Pro, which I took a liking to immediately:

It’s just an all-around attractive serif font, but one thing I really like about it for use in a novel is its highly-visible quotation marks. They’re just kinda jumbo! They’re real big! Easy to see! In a novel, those things aren’t just ornamentation. It makes a great deal of practical sense for them to stand out just a bit. It also has a fairly large x-height, unlike a lot of the more traditional options, which is good for legibility on a computer screen.

3. Adjusting the line-height

Web browsers default to a line-height of about 1.2em, which, as you can probably tell, is quite cramped. If you go and Google “optimal line height for legibility”, you’ll get a number of results right off the bat suggesting 1.5em. Sounds good! Let’s do that:

Well... hmm. That’s definitely an improvement, but between you and me, it actually looks a bit too spacey to my eyes. I wonder why?

I’ll cut to the chase: the 1.5em recommendation makes some assumptions about the font you’re using. In Arial, the letter “A” is about 0.6em tall; in Crimson Pro, it’s about 0.5em. That means that there’s no one-size-fits-all solution to spacing your lines, because different fonts have different amounts of empty space baked in. How annoying!

Let me tell you something about the kind of nerd I am. When I had this realization, I grabbed some books off my shelf and pulled out a literal micrometer. I started measuring the line-heights against various font features to see if there were any patterns I could spot in professional typesetting. Here’s what I found:

Almost every book on my shelf spaces lines such that the distance between one baseline and the next is about three times the x-height. How cool is that? I clapped my hands like a seal when I put this together.

Adjusting the line-height to match what I observed in the wild gives us this:

It’s a subtle difference, but to my eyes it feels just right. It’s almost like magic!

4. Paragraph spacing...

Let’s address the elephant in the room. Probably the most controversial choice I made with CURSE/KISS/CUTE’s typography was to opt for book-style paragraph indentation rather than web-style paragraph spacing—like so:

I did this for a few reasons:

It’s what I’m used to. I’ve read a lot of books, and this is just the way that books are formatted. I think for something aspiring to the title of “novel”, there’s value in making it look the way a reader probably expects a novel to look.

A novel has a lot of paragraph breaks in it. A paragraph in, say, an encyclopedia entry might go on for half a page or more; whereas it is unusual for a paragraph in a modern work of narrative prose to run for more than a handful of sentences, especially in any scene with dialogue. Because paragraph breaks are so common, spacing between paragraphs in a novel results in a lot of wasted space. Also, subjectively speaking, the additional space seems to me to lend an undue amount of weight to paragraph breaks. I’m just starting a new thought; there’s no need for a 21-gun salute, you know?

Having said that, here are some good reasons you might decide not to do paragraph indentation anyway:

Doing it right requires a bit of extra legwork. Notice how the very first paragraph in the image above has no indentation. That’s because it’s the start of a new section, and the first paragraph in a section traditionally goes unindented. This is an easy detail to miss, and it can be difficult to wrangle CSS into doing it for you automatically.

Web users don’t expect it. For the first decade of the web’s existence, there was no good way to do paragraph indentation; by the time CSS rolled around and made it easy, paragraph spacing had already become the norm. And while CURSE/KISS/CUTE may be a novel, it is also, specifically, a web novel!

But it’s my house and I get to make the rules, so I went with indentation. Incidentally, there seems to be a dire lack of research into the question of whether indentation or spacing is more legible for readers—but the data that does exist appears inconclusive at best. So, the choice really does come down to vibes.

5. The tragedy of justification.

You’ll note that one way in which I did not make my web novel look like a paper novel is the text alignment. It’s un-justified: the right margin is ripsaw-ragged.

This is because it is not possible to justify text on the web.

Oh, you can try. Look right here: there’s a CSS property for it and everything. Just turn on “text-align: justify” and...

Nightmare! The interword spacing on that first line is almost as wide as the indentation!

Reader, I’m afraid that your web browser is simply too dumb. That’s not the browser’s fault: robust algorithms for justifying text without creating these distractingly huge gaps between words have existed for many decades, and modern computers are powerful enough to run them in real time with little performance impact. It’s just, uh—nobody has ever bothered to implement them into web browsers. It is the damnedest thing.

I tried, I really did. You can mitigate this problem a bit if you enable automatic hyphenation, but browsers are unfortunately also kind of dumb at hyphenating. Firefox, for example, will refuse to hyphenate any word containing a capital letter, so any sentence with a lot of proper nouns in it is a lost cause. I tried manually inserting soft hyphens with a text preprocessor I wrote myself, but still these overjustified lines plagued me: when the text column narrows, for example on a phone, even hyphens can’t save you. The line-breaking algorithm is simply too naïve to optimize for well-justified text, and that’s not something you can fix as a web developer.

As a result, my heavy-hearted recommendation is to never use text justification. It’s just too distracting.

6. And then some extra stuff just for me

I added drop-caps because it looks neat and I made the ellipses spacier because I think it looks good when it, uh, when they are spacier. I think that looks pretty good that’s just my opinion though.

That’s all! Hope you learned something bye!!!

#text #typography #advice...?#not a professional by any means by the way

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netherfeildren · 3 months ago

Text

Busy, Dying. Part 1;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Mating Bites, Knotting, Heat Sex, Breeding Kink, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Basically puppy training for unsocialized Alphas, And by God that man will be house trained by the time she’s done with him!, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, Author returns not with a whimper but with a KNOT, I wrote this in a very unserious state of mind beware

A/N: Gray November, I've been down since July - but we're so back, baby. I’ve missed this so bad. I’ve missed you all, I won’t drone on and on. I hope you enjoy, and please talk to me in the comments. Update me on what I’ve missed, let me know how you’ve been and what’s happening in your life.

A great heartfelt thank you to all of my wonderful friends who so supportively cheered me on while I struggled to write this. Sincerely the best people I know.

Love you all madly.

Word Count: 6.5K

Read on AO3

Part 1;

The old linoleum tiles are the most peculiar shade of puce, and Joel has realized there is someone sitting at the back of the room who smells… strange.

More brown than purple—an ugly color. There’s something about it that fascinates him.

The woman that is currently speaking tells of her husband; it’s the only tale she has to tell. She’s been doing it for weeks, and they all know it well by now. Older, omega, the woman, and at the latter and less comely stage of life. Most of them here can say the same. They usually give their names, those that get up to share—although it’s never a requirement when you attend, it is highly encouraged—the sharing, he means—but he never pays much mind to them—the names, that is. That’s not what he’s here for after all—to make friends. Although, he does see how that’d be the initial assumption.

Joel Miller is here for something more specific.

Six weeks he’s been showing up to these things now, and he’s yet to take a turn. He tells himself he’s working up to it.

What that specific thing is…he hasn’t quite figured out. He’s listening for it, though, and intently, even if he does skip over the names. It’s the details of what they’re telling that matter to him. The hows and intricate whys of what it is that brought them here today.

Her youth had been spent on a drunk, the woman is saying—her husband—and he’d been cruel to her in those days when there was still currency to spend in the form of her vitality. Joel nods at the puce—yes, he thinks, that’s usually the way of it. But later, there’s more to the story she reminds her audience, he drank himself into a fit, and had never been right since. The cruelty had been taken away from the marriage after that, and she’d been put in charge.

“But I wonder,” she says, “If sometimes I don’t miss it, the way he’d been,” —if the reason she was here now, with all of the rest of them that were just like her in their own unique ways, was that she’d been left lonely after her cruel husband had been exchanged for a sick one.

Joel nods again and wonders what sort of face the woman wears as she confesses but doesn’t bother to check. No matter, he knows they’re alike. If not in designation, then in heart.

It’s easy, that thing, he does it too, to wish for the bad. To want to hold on to it, the thing that hurts. Addictive, even, in some cases. Missing it is easy.

It’s why he’s here.

And it’s what they promise you. In their flyers and pamphlets, when they stand on the corners of streets talking people up wearing that look in their eye and that slouch in their step, when they smell it on you—or in the lack there of—a mate or a purpose.

Welcome to our meeting. We’re here to find the cure for loneliness.

That’s what they promise you by coming here.

It’d been that word: loneliness, actually, that had caught him. L-O-N-E-liness. There was something attractive about it to him. Not a label but a state.

You see, it was like this: Joel had seen a therapist once, several years ago, against his will and at the behest of another, who’d said all the wrong things in all the wrong ways.

“You sound depressed, Joel,” the therapist had told him.

He’d worn horn rimmed glasses and had a shiny bald head he could see the reflection of the overhead lights in. And worse—the non-scent of a beta which told him they’d never understand each other in the ways Joel longed to be understood. He’d—not hated him, necessarily—but felt an immense apathy for the man; more so than the regular apathy he felt for most things in his life.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Very, very sad,” was the official diagnosis.

Joel hadn’t liked the sound of the word. The label. He did not like that a word so succinct could be ascribed to him and all that had happened in his life. There was no word for it. It just was.

But there was something different about a state of aloneness, which if attributed to himself, he could accept. He had been left alone, in ways. It was a tangible thing he could look around a room inside of himself and recognize.

They’re meetings, is what this place is—encounter groups this coalition offers where lonely demi humans can come to congregate, discuss their aloneness, what had led them to such a state; their lack of attachments, connections, mates—alpha, omega. Held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church on Newbury street—halfway mark between his shop and house—though they never talk about religion, which he likes because he doesn’t believe in religion.

God’s still under review.

He wonders if the Catholics wouldn’t have them.

Sitting forward in his seat, the metal folding chair that always leaves his back aching something fierce, he presses his elbows into his knees to distract with alternative pressure. Focusing on his fingers woven together between his spread legs, he tries to pay attention to the man who’s stood up to speak now. Older than himself, late sixties, no children, no family, no nothin’; he’d run them all off.

But Joel is distracted.

The smell is stronger now. Stranger too. Something full bodied, but metallic like rust, astringent bleach, built in a way that forces saliva to pool heavy between his suddenly aching gums. A mask that sits atop something of a much different chemical architecture—that’s the strange part.

Or—no. The back of his neck itches, and Joel lifts a palm to cup his nape, quell the sting, feel the tender mark. No. The strange part is not the illusion of the smell. What it is, actually, is that he’s fairly certain what he’s smelling is someone else's blockers. Something which he’s positive he’s never consciously noticed on another person in the thirty plus years since he’d presented as an alpha.

He has, suddenly, the quite intense urge to peek over his shoulder, certain that he’ll be caught smelling things he has no business smelling. That there will be someone just there, breathing down the nape of his neck with accusation on their tongue—boo!

Silly. But he’d known today would not be a good day.

It’d started off wrong. The milk had gone sour overnight, the check engine light had come on in his truck, all his socks were suddenly mismatched with not a single pair to be found, and his usual route to work had been waylaid by some freak accident. A maple tree split in half, one side into a house, the other into the road. Not a sign of lightning in the sky all night long.

Perhaps he might be compelled to believe in God after all.

Joel does not like it when things are out of order or out of the ordinary. His life was organized in a way that never caused him strife or excess. And it was not that he was stuck in his ways, only that he enjoyed his routine and disliked when things were not as they should be. And this—whatever it is he’s smelling, whoever—is not as it should be.

The older gentleman, an Alpha too, is still speaking. He had a daughter—has—who no longer speaks to him. Won’t even take his money. He’d had a long career in government that’d filled him with greed and paranoia and a radical view of life that refused to align with the way young people saw the world now. Perhaps he’d tried to change at certain times, but he was old and set in his ways. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to change as badly as he should have when he still had the chance to. Happily stuck in the past. His wife had died, and his daughter had gone away from him. Too tired of his mediocrity as a father to give him another chance.

The man sounds like he feels sorry for himself. Like he thinks himself the victim, and this one, Joel does look up at. He looks old and worn down, heavy beer pouch and thinning hair and sagging jowls. A sad and lonely man. Joel wonders if that’s what he looks like to the other people in this room, as well.

“No man knows how bad he is until he has tried very hard to be good.”

Joel blinks, looks at him more closely, tries very hard to find similarities between themselves. But no—not quite right, not the thing he’s looking for. Their plight is different. This man is not alone, he’s got his weakness to keep him company.

The one thing Joel had fought like hell to keep out of his repertoire of issues. He’d run from even the possibility of it as soon as she was dead, left Texas straight for the Northeast and from thereafter, everything he’d done, he’d done with a staunchness of character. If at the end of it, that staunchness was made up of apathy or numbness or dissociative fury, well, then at least he wasn’t still that man who’d been too weak to save his daughter.

That counted very much in Joel’s book.

An overabundance of cold numbness, little anger, everything a static haze—an abstinent winter. That was his whole life. But then, look at him now, he was here, wasn’t he? He’d taken that brochure handed to him on that last warm Tuesday afternoon weeks ago as he’d headed back to the shop from lunch.

Hello, sir. Could I interest you in a cure for loneliness? The young omega had said.

It’d started like anything—an experiment or a desperate ploy. The monotony had been steady going the past few years, getting older, colder. He’d grown hard and solitary around his wound, loneliness spread like a fungus, and he’d longed for any sort of change.

“A cure…how?” The terrible shrink had come to mind.

“Oh, nothing to fret over.” The young man had a nice smile, Joel remembers. Kind and straight toothed. Honest in the way that a stranger knocking on your door to sell you a Bible seems honest. “We call it an encounter group. People come, share, tell the tales of their designation and their lives. In the end, the result is different for different people. Some move on to a second step if they need… more. Others find what they’re looking for just through the connection of sharing. But no matter the result, you’ll see, you’ll be cured. Promise.” He’d winked, smile deepening, giving him an appreciative once over at the end of his spiel. Joel had blinked back, surprised, confused, but curiosity peaked enough he’d obsessed over it for three short days before he’d found himself stepping into the molted incense smell of the belly of a church so dimly lit he was sure not even God peaked in this sad space any longer.

“It’s that easy?” Joel had asked, childlike in his throat-strangled hope.

“That easy.”

It seemed the smile had been honest enough to sell him the Bible.

The scent insists upon itself as the older gentleman finishes up, and Joel’s nose tickles with whatever it is it’s whispering at him. He wants to get up and walk out, run away, but suddenly his gut is tight and hot, and he isn’t sure he can actually stand up without disgracing himself in front of all these people. A wash of agonized heat moves through him, confused at what’s suddenly happening to his body.

“We’ve got a newcomer today, sharing for the first time,” Maria, the woman who leads the group, says at the front of the room. “Everyone give her a warm welcome, it’s her first day and already she’s brave enough to jump on up here.”

There’s the shuffling of bodies in their seats, a cleared throat, the man sitting behind Joel breathes so loudly he thinks there’s gotta be some sort of medical condition going on there, the puce turns more hideous by the second, and his own heart is beating so hard in his ears the rush of blood is dizzying. He feels each thump of the thing against his breast bone in some sick imitation of a fist begging to be let out.

The new voice begins as nothing but a murmur.

An introduction—he misses the name. His breathing goes shallow, he’d tip over in his seat if he didn’t have both boots planted firmly against the puce. The voice gains strength and with it, Joel wishes he’d been paying attention from the start. He didn’t get to hear her name.

It’s a girl.

She’d run away from home in the spring of her sixteenth year to join the opera, she tells them. Had come upon the city in roaring spring and thought the rest of her life would be exactly like that, pure novelty in bloom, nothing like what she’d left behind. And was deeply disappointed when the reality was nothing such.

And Joel hears it, that disappointment in her voice at what she’d not been able to find after searching for it so religiously. This is what makes him look up at her. This, unlike all the others, he thinks he can relate to—just by the sound of her voice. The search for a thing lost which can never again be found. The fruitlessness of it all.

At that first vulnerable, terrified glance, she’s already staring at him, eyes catching like hooks.

He blinks once, twice—color—is sure he can hear the movement of his eyelashes passing through the air, the stick of his lids meeting—color—bright. This is it.

That wash of heat turns into a blaze, every single bead of sweat blooming on his brow is a tell evaporating into the ether. This is what he’d sensed from the start of the evening. Maybe even from the moment he’d seen that split maple.

“My mother always said I needed to be stronger, bolder, not so sensitive.” She looks away from him now. “I grew up in an angry house where you had to fight tooth and nail not to be overrun. Because of this, I left it at a very young age, and it was the greatest fight I could muster, abandoning that house of anger. I found myself something to bring me what I thought would be joy, a job and a city, and for a time, it was enough. But starting your lonely life so young…it’s hard.” After a pause of breath, “It’s been hard.”

“And it’s made me never want to have to—exert myself,” she says, searching for the right words, smiling when she finds them, and Joel has the urgency to smile back. “Now, I never want to have to be strong. I never want to have to try. I want to only be the way that I am. I don’t care. I don’t want to have to fight. I never want to be in an angry house again. I want someone who’ll see this in me and understand and never make me work for it, that they would give it to me willingly, easily, without me even having to ask. Do you understand?” She looks about the room, and he hopes her eyes will land on him again, and even though they don’t, he feels she’s speaking directly to him. He nods, the hook of her temptation cast beneath his chin. “This is a fantasy. And it makes for a lonely existence. This idea of how I need it to be for it to be right—love.” She looks down at her hands folded atop the podium where they go to stand at the front of the group and share, and Joel wills her gaze to find him amidst the crowd again. “It’s so difficult. And this might seem very bad to you, weak willed, but it’s not. It’s only very honest. Which can never be a bad way to be.”

Finally, she looks back at him, and it’s that loneliness of two people amidst a crowd, facing one another, knowing themselves mirrored against the other and yet still disembodied. There’s something indecent about the way she looks at him in front of all these people, the way he, in turn, looks back. A little bit like finding your own face on a stranger's body in a crowded room. Color rises to his face, and she gives him that same elusive smile from before.

He’s the one to look away first this time.

As the crowd disperses for coffee and pastries after the last of the speakers, he searches for her. He needs to ask her name, feels as if he’s some blighted creature without it, swears he’ll never forgo attention during a meeting again if he can fish it out of her.

He finds her at the dessert table, Maria at her side and a hand at her shoulder. Something of a thank you is being imparted between the two women. The girl is saying she’s grateful for the welcome, grateful that they’d found each other.

Joel has things to be grateful to Maria for, also. It’d been pure chance, really, that Joel had met her. That she happened to know Tommy. She’d met his brother on a summer trek to Wyoming where they’d become friends and had kept in touch afterwards. The woman has a thing about her that ingratiates people by sheer force of will. Perhaps it’s that she’s an alpha, too. Perhaps it’s just the charisma and wide smile. The fact she’s got a countenance about her that takes no shit from anyone, that makes demands of a person whether they’ve got any give or not. Whatever the case, she’d pulled the truth of his estranged brother from Joel’s mouth like teeth, made the connection to the man she’d met as a fly fishing guide in the Tetons. She was kind enough to keep Joel updated on his brother on the rare occasion he mustered up the courage to actually ask.

She always made him ask.

Watching the two women stand together and share that easy thanks that Joel so urgently owes, and yet which he cannot voice, he feels, suddenly, so angry. So awkward. So humiliatingly inexperienced. So unable to grapple with the pain of human contact, the fascination of it, the humiliating necessity.

That decade old anchor weighing him in place and the guilt of even thinking of it as such.

I feel decrepitly alone and odd, he thinks. And how strange, no? He’d been a normal man. He has a normal job. He lives in a normal house. Unexceptional in every sense of the word. Everything in his life had been ordinary up until that one great tragedy. And then, as if none of the before had ever existed, it was as if everything afterwards was one great landslide of wrongness. The filth of it slinging mud all over his life so that nothing had ever been right after her.

So that now he cannot even approach this girl whose name he needs to know, and Maria, to whom he owes the last surviving connection to his brother to.

As Maria turns to go, she gives him an encouraging nod, sending him into an agony of shyness, aware of his hovering.

The girl remains at the dessert table, perusing the pastries. He can see her fingertips dancing over the golden, sugared confections, before she settles on a plain, glazed donut. He watches the bend of her elbow, bringing it to her mouth and thirty seconds later, the empty hand reaching for a napkin. He can’t help the huff of laughter it draws from him.

Watching the unknown creature with her back turned, he peers down the length of himself. Wood stain marred t-shirt, old work jeans and scuffed boots, he’d come straight from the shop. Looking back at her, she seems perfectly packaged and neat. The two of them, different as chalk and cheese. He tells himself he shouldn’t do it, turn around and go, leave her alone, as he steps up beside her at the table.

Immediately, there’s the heat of her skin, the smell of her shampoo, and he realizes, and it’s silly because it should’ve been obvious from the get go, she’s an omega. The epiphany, not that she is one, but that he’d been too stupid and oblivious to notice, leaves him feeling vulnerable and angry.

Any sort of hello that’d been coming alive on his tongue immediately dies. And he’s about to make a run for it once again when she speaks up beside him, “Would you like a donut?” Her small fingers skip over the pastries, choosing once again. “I haven’t had one yet,” she lies, “I can’t decide which looks best.”

The dancing hand pauses over a golden brown puff pastry, seemingly coming to a decision, when she turns to look up at him. The scent of her isn’t just shampoo, not just the blockers he’d shockingly picked up on before—sharp, burning his nose—it’s her skin now, too. The dry sweat from hustling under her coat to make it to her first meeting on time salted along her limbs. Hot, sweet almonds. The shocking vermillion of the morning’s split maple comes to mind. He can smell her.

“Puff pastry?” She presses, quizzical crook to her brow at his silence and glower. “I think you really need something sweet. It’ll make you feel better.”

He wants to agree, to say he also thinks he needs something sweet. But all he can manage is a short grunt because she smells…indescribable. Honeyed musk, something heady, like she herself had just got done baking, straight out of the oven and full of sugar into his waiting mouth.

That earlier anger, it kicks up a notch. Why isn’t he fucking saying anything?

She shrugs, as she lifts the puff pastry to her mouth he finally manages sound.

“You stink.”

He doesn’t know when he became such a liar.

He does know when he became such an asshole.

A pause: mouth open, straight, white teeth ready to bite into the fluffy sweet bread. He can see her small, pink tongue, and it makes him go a little crazier.

He might be losing his mind.

She’s got elegant eyebrows that shoot straight up her smooth forehead. The look of her skin is glorious.

“Excuse me?”

Now, there seem to be too many words spilling out of his mouth. “You need better meds or somethin’. Need to sort your shit out. Can’t go gallivanting around smellin’ like that.”

Oh god, shut up.

“Excuse me!” She takes a huge bite of the pastry. “I do not gallivant,” she shoots back, mouth full of sugar and Joel goes hot everywhere. “What is wrong with you?” she demands, pursing that prim little mouth as she chews, eyeing him maliciously.

He hasn’t the damndest clue.

She is not wary of him in the slightest, which in turn tells him he needs to be wary of her.

Another large bite, inexplicably she extends her free hand towards him—potentially going into shock and entirely out of his depth when he takes it, the vulnerability of tendon and muscle soft beneath his strength—offering him a firm shake. She gives Joel her name.

In that moment, she has a look about her that tells him she’ll bite back if he isn’t careful, even if she hurts herself in the process.

And now he knows you.

“We might as well acquaint ourselves if you’re going to insult me. Don’t you think?”

Peering up at him, he’s tall, well over six feet, and broad shouldered. Older, distinguished, but in a rough way, hewn oak, gray.

“Are you typically this rude? Or is this a special occasion?”

Incredibly handsome.

“I’m being serious.”

“I do not stink. No one has ever said that to me, and my blockers are quality. It must be a you problem.” The puff pastry really is very good. And this man really is very handsome. Coming here today was a good idea.

One of the girls from the theater had suggested it, handing you a pamphlet with Looking for the Cure for Loneliness? emblazoned across the top, and even though she’d done it kindly, any other person would’ve taken the implication as an insult. Hey girl! No offense, but we all in the company think you’re super weird and have you heard about this support group for losers? Kind of like Omegas Anonymous!

Those hadn’t been her exact words, and you hadn’t taken offense. After the initial humiliation, you’d warmed to the idea. You’d heard of groups like these before. Congregations of demi humans where one could come to find community or connection. Be it socialization or support for people struggling with their designations and all that they implied, they served their purpose. And anyways, you weren’t in a position to be nitpicky.

It’s true, you’re alone.

So alone, in fact, that even the people around you could tell. Strangers, coworkers, your roommate and her girlfriend. Like some noxious cloud of loneliness following you around virtue signaling the desperate need for love and companionship and understanding you’re so in need of.

You increasingly saw yourself as a dancer on her toes, trembling delicately all over, vying desperately to survive to the end of the song. A monster with too many heads. A Cerberus of the most gruesome sort.

Two or three would’ve been acceptable—heads—but you'd long surpassed that and moved on to something unrecognizable and unpleasant. Desperately in need of a solution.

“Maybe you’re the one that stinks. Maybe it’s your upper lip.”

“My—” The rude alpha, obvious, that one, lets out a choked sound, a deeper wash of color immediately flooding his cheeks. You dip your head sideways, appraising him as you polish off your second pastry. He has pretty bone structure, masculine but beautiful, and after he’s done choking and spluttering, he can’t help but laugh a little bit. You see it.

Beneath a mouth that looks forbidding, perhaps even a little cruel, you can sense that he is not an unkind man. The laugh tells you so.

Yet you’re not so green that you can’t recognize the gnawing hunger of loneliness in others. That mimicking gleam. There’s always a reason people find themselves in places like these, after all. His face, edged with the weariness of age, makes this obvious. He has good reason for subjecting himself to this.

Reaching for the lovely eclair you’d been deciding between earlier, you take a large bite of it. Almond cream and a thick layer of icing on top, humming happily as you chew while he stares at you like the three headed dog.

You hold the dessert out towards him, offering. Palm up, he shakes his head no, slightly disgusted look on his face.

“So. You come here often?”

He blinks. “Really?” Patronizing look on his face now.

“Why not? I am actually interested to know if this is worth my time.”

He rolls his eyes. Oh, he’s fun. “Yes, I come here often. Every Friday, for the past two months, just about.”

“And you like it?”

“Is this the sort of place one likes?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You never know what you might find.” You think he watches your mouth as you finish chewing, swallowing hard. “Anyways, I think the world is kind of over out there. Don’t you? Might as well make the best of it in here.”

Thumb pressed against the edge of the table, he looks down, suddenly going shy again. A shy alpha, who’d of thought.

“What did you used to do?” He asks, motioning at the crowded room full of chatting alphas and omegas. You wonder how many of them will go home together for a fuck after this.

“When?”

“Before this place.”

“Before this place? Nothing.” You smile at him, certain he isn’t picking up on your teasing.

“Nothing?”

“Nope. I’ve always been here.”

“But— Don’t you…I thought...” He’s cute, shaking his head, frustrated frown slashed across his face. “You sing, right?” He pivots.

“Sing? Me? Whatever made you think such a thing?” The sly look on your face goes completely over his head and slides to the rest of the sweets. If he wasn’t watching, you’d have another.

“You said. You said you’re in the opera,” he gruffs back, looking visibly aggravated now.

Such fun.

“I’m a supernumerary,” you concede as you turn, making your way to an old relic of a pew along the far wall, tragically abandoning the desserts.

He follows as you go, sitting a respectful distance beside you.

“I don’t know what that is.”

“We’re the actors that fill the stage at the opera.”

“No singing?”

You shake your head. “I’m a wench, I’m a courtesan,” You bat your lashes, flirting with him, fingertips pressed coquettishly beneath your chin, “Part of a harem. I’m every woman you’ve never known. It depends on the opera.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I started as a stagehand when I first got to Boston. Worked my way up.”

“How’s it work? Lines or somethin’?”

“No lines. No anything. I’m a background actor—an extra, basically. If anything, I’m given some simple choreography direction, laugh, sigh, show fear, horror, heart break. Whatever. I’m playing pretend without actually having to do anything.”

“No working for it.”

Your smile melts to blandness. So he’d been listening, then.

“Did you want to sing?”

“No. I wanted to be a supernumerary.”

“Strange. I’ve never heard of that,” he repeats.

“You did say, yes.” Now, your smile turns auspicious. Everyone’s here for something. “What do you do?” Perhaps this is it for him.

Your gaze flits over the crowd, at the far exit, there’s a large alpha helping an omega into his coat.

“Got a shop, furniture, woodworking and such.”

“You make things?” He nods. “Ah, a man of creation.”

Sitting back to take him in, he’s got the beginning insinuations of silver speckling the dark hair at his temples, a well groomed beard, and large, intimidating hands.

His small huff of laughter is bashful, tinged with something disappointed. “No, nothin’ that grand.” And he’s got an accent heavy at the ends of his words, not Bostonian. Southern.

“But you know, I wanted to say…”

“Yes?” You press when he loses his courage, leaning towards him, inhaling deeply.

“Well, that I know what you meant earlier. Sometimes I can be the angry house.”

You blink once. Sit back. “I see.”

“It’s hard work. I have to try every day at it.”

Being the house, or not?

“How do you stop yourself?” You cast a line, fishing for his character.

“Don’t know. Keep myself cold, I think.”

“That’s no way to be.”

“No. It’s not.” He sounds amused. You want to bite him.

“Ah, well. Perhaps that’s what’s brought you here then,” you say, twisting the toe of your sneaker against a scuff on the old linoleum, leaning forward on your palms wrapped around the edge of the pew.

“Maybe,” he says, but a sort of pained, exasperated sound follows it. Your hanging head turns to peer at the handsome face. He stares back.

There’s something animal afoot. Perhaps in terms of designation, sure, of course, like the rest of the alphas and omegas here. Your designations weigh heavily in the air. But also intrinsic to your two personalities. You feel you know him. That the two of you might have the same sorts of problems, desires. And as you stare at him, you think you may be equally measuring each other’s character, finding that similarity in one another. Hook the line, hook the line, reeling each other in—

His eyes move quickly between yours, over your face, and you can tell that prolonged eye contact isn’t his norm.

He has the most surprising set of bright hazel eyes like river stones.

Suddenly, you feel desperate to pull out a flicker of sexuality in the man, hear it in his voice. Watch that serious stoicism crack. Have him say clearly what it is he’s come here looking for. At the exit, the alpha and omega are gone now. —Certain that, with him, the experience could be entirely different, exhilarating. Perhaps a challenge. He seems to be more quiet and more patient than any other man you’ve ever come across, but also more stern, maybe…angry?—taking in that wide mouth held so firmly. Far more remote too, by the far away look in his gaze. You want to see how he could be moved and what the sight of it would look like.

“Maybe not,” he finally continues. “I’m looking for something, I think.”

Yes, tell me. “Something like what?”

“Someone like me.”

“An alpha?”

That was something, you knew, some people were interested in. The experience of being with someone of their own designation—that power struggle.

“No,” he looks away, cringing. Strange, the word out loud seems a shock to him. “Did you listen to the woman at the start—missing the bad thing? I struggle…with that. Holding on, not letting go even when I know I should.”

You’re at an age now which sometimes makes it hard to realize or accept that what you’re living is your life. That it’s been time to grow up. That you have to remember to move forward when it’s your turn in line.

Which is to say, that you understand him—the difficulties of knowing when to hold on and when to let go.

“Sometimes you hurt yourself because you don’t have anything else to do. Sometimes, because the alternative is much worse.”

“Holding on ‘cause there’s nothing else to do?”

“Sure. Or you’re used to it.”

You’ll be gentle with him, you decide. He’s in need of gentle handling despite the stern face; not a puzzle so arbitrarily solved. And those eyes are still so bright, he doesn’t seem like he needs any more hardship.

“Don’t know why I’m tellin’ you this,” he says, accent heavy.

“Well you did come here for a reason. Didn’t you?”

Discreetly, you slide closer to him, but he doesn’t notice. Apparently lost in the realization that perhaps this was what he’d come here for, to talk to someone, to have someone listen and relate. You’re almost positive he’s never gotten up to share with the group before in all his time coming to the meetings; doesn’t look like the type.

“I came here because I’m going to take better care of myself,” you tell him. “I’m going to try harder.”

“Harder at what? Thought you didn’t want to try?” He blinks as if attempting to come out of a dream.

You shrug. “Everything—I don’t know. I don’t want to end up like my parents; drunk, angry, alone. I’m scared of it. I’ve avoided at least two of them.”

“I’m afraid of getting older.” The dream moves in his eyes. “That I’ll forget,” he says, but you don’t ask what.

All of a sudden, he seems very real. The swells of grief and loneliness moving through him so similarly, so close to the surface. It frightens you.

Springing up, you turn to face him and he follows to stand too. You can hear the crack of his knees unfolding, and when he lifts his left palm to stifle a gruff cough, the band of gold around his finger is paralyzing.

All of a sudden, he’d seemed like what you’d been looking for here too. There’s laughter coming from the church rafters.

“You’re a widower?” He wants to forget, he’d said he wants to let go.

Hadn’t he?

But instead, “What? No.” You stare pointedly at the ring, and he looks down at it also. “No,” he repeats.

“So’re you looking for a fuck, or what?” You try and hold back the bite it comes with, but you can’t. “A distraction?”

“No. No. That’s not what I’m looking for.”

You don’t understand, impaired by your youth, maybe you’re not supposed to understand. “Maybe it’s what you need,” you tell him, turning towards the exit before you can watch him cringe.

He follows at your heels, grabbing his coat from the hook by the doors before he’s stepping out after you into the fall blister. It’s cold and wet and glorious out.

“Don’t you have a coat?” He demands.

“Nope.” You start walking towards Arlington Street and the park.

“Did you walk here? It’s freezing out.”

“I did,” you turn back towards him, still moving, and he starts to follow.

“From where?”

“Downtown.”

“Where?” He scowls at your uncooperation, the married man. Alpha.

The truth is, he’d kind of stunk to you too. Maybe in a good way. Like no one ever had before. As glorious and shocking as the cold. Like if snow had a scent.

Disappointment churns in your gut alongside the excitement of watching him follow you.

“I don’t think you know it.”

Your backward walk is interrupted as a hurrying stranger bumps into you, sending you staggering. Watch it, the Boston snark spits. The alpha turns to scowl, heavy boot forward like he’s half a mind to follow after the person you’ve just inadvertently assaulted.

And it occurs to you, “You didn’t tell me your name.” How silly of you. You’d been so distracted you’d forgotten to ask, and what if you never see him again after this? What if you can’t muster the courage to come back again next week? What if he can’t?

“It’s Joel.”

You think it sounds right.

“I might—know it,” he insists—you smile at the dog with a bone. The disappointment pulses. “Is it far?” You shrug, looking over your shoulder. You’re going to lose yourself in the garden for a few hours, forget about him. “Why don’t you drive?”

“I like to walk,” you tell him, turning back.

He looks at you like he doesn’t like the things you say much less the way you say them. Perhaps he can see the disappointment and is disturbed by the sight of it, but the possibility seems too altruistic.

“You should try it sometime, Joel. You might like it too.”

His huge body seems to be shivering in the cold.

“I think…” The look on his face has turned suspicious now. He takes a step towards you. “You’re very strange. And you’re very young. I don’t think we should be friends.”

Your heart gives a demanding thump.

“We’re not going to be friends.”

When you’d first spotted him in the crowd, the strangest feeling had come over you. A tug behind your belly button, a scalding heat at the back of your neck, at your wrists. Perhaps it’s merely imagination, the look of disappointment you think you see on his face right before you turn away from him to continue on walking.

“And I’m not that young anymore.”

You’d known today was going to be a good day. Extra cinnamon in your latte, a late start to your morning, warm in bed, no rain in the sky despite the cloud cover. And your director, late for rehearsals after some freak accident had befallen the roof of his house.

“That’s what all young people say.”

Part 2;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#busy dying fic #vic fic #joel miller fanficition #the last of us au #joel miller x you #joel miller

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gnomewithalaptop · 3 months ago

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They're @luvo27 on tumblr as well :]

GUYS THIS ISNT A DRILL THERES SOMEONE WHO WRITES MOSTLY ABOUT DC WOMEN. ive already cried twice abt some of their takes on cass and donna and im prepared to keep crying about stephanie too!

pls pls pls check out Luvo on ao3. go leave lots of comments if you like their fics. i'll die if you dont

#but YES GO CHECK THEM OUT THEIR CASS AND STEPH CHARACTERIZATIONS MAKE ME GO INSANE #dude you gotta read the one fic where steph kills her dad during her introduction arc it makes me want to eat gravel #ALSO luvo is like one of the only people on ao3 i trust to write cass in-character with the bg00 solo #they deserve a million bajillion kudos and i will not shut up about it until the day i die #also they're just like a nice person in general #which is a plus #beloved mutuals #fic recs

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wafflefries13 · 2 months ago

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First Date Ideas (Multi TWST Cast X Reader)

Summary: Short drabbles of where you would take your favorite Twisted Wonderland guy on a first date, and where he would take you.

AN: Pseudo part 2 to the asking-out fic I posted. Not really much else to say besides I really liked trying to come up with a bunch of unique ideas. Thanks for reading!

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff

Part 1: Asking them out

Ace:

Where you take him: Arcade

It’s fun, it’s cozy, it’s classic, and it gives Ace a chance to show off. You both get a bunch of tokens, eat greasy pizza, and try your hand at the games. You take each other on in skeeball and Ace tries to convince you to go against him in the basketball game but you argue he has an unfair advantage. So you settle for the racing simulator. After, when you collect all your tickets, you pour over the prize counter, probably ending up with something not very impressive, or maybe a snow cone maker that stops working after the first three uses. But you’ll treasure it since it’s loaded with memories.

Where he takes you: Carnival

This boy is already a clown, put him back where he belongs. Besides the fact that it gives him an excuse to impress you by winning prizes at the games alley, or trying to anyway, a carnival date fits Ace’s high energy. You can share popcorn and cotton candy while watching the circus acts and Ace will whisper to you explanations for the tricks the magician uses. There’s plenty of stuff to do and tons of fried food. It’s a classic for a reason. And he’d love it if you hold on to him on the rollercoasters. He ends up screaming more than you.

Deuce:

Where you take him: Petting zoo

I just want to see Deuce fawning over baby chicks, is that so much to ask? NGL, I think he’d love it. You could go to some sort of tourist farm and check out the cows getting milked, sheep shearing or sheepdog herding, and collect eggs from the chickens (the kind that don’t hatch into chicks). I can also see Deuce getting into a grudge match against a goat that keeps bonking into his legs with his horns. At the end of the day you’ll sit at a picnic table eating some treats made at the farm and watch the sunset.

Where he takes you: Botanical garden

Deuce would want to do something classic, a surefire, tried and tested dating spot. I can imagine him being nervous, getting you flowers when you are already going to see more flowers. You’ll hold the flowers in one hand and Deuce’s, slightly sweaty, hand in the other. If they have a butterfly room, even better. They’ll have a little booklet with different species and you and Deuce go on a scavenger hunt to identify as many as possible. Winner gets kisses.

Trey:

Where you take him: At home food science experiment kits

Did you ever see those at home science food kits where you made gummies and foam and other candy, usually themed to something really weird like monsters or worms? Yeah, you do those, half making fun of how weird it looks and half marveling at the cool effects of swirling all the different ingredients together. Will they taste amazing? Probably not, but Trey probably knows a few cool tricks to make everything a little more edible.

Where he takes you: Chocolate factory tour

Have you ever been to Hersheypark in Pennsylvania? There’s a whole section with a little dark ride that shows you the history of chocolate (that’s worse since they took the singing cow animatronics out), a cute interactive play, a trolly ride with chocolate samples, and two chocolate making experiences. You can stuff a giant Reese’s Cup (which is way too sweet IMO) or design your own chocolate bar including the wrapping. Anyway, there’s probably not a one-to-one replica, but with all that magic you can’t tell me there’s not something Willy Wonka-esque. You’ll both spend the day learning about the history of chocolate and chocolate making in Twisted Wonderland, capped off by making all kinds of treats. You’ll experiment with typical flavors, like raspberry, caramel, and nuts, to the more extraordinary, like jalapeno, lavender, and cheese. In the end, you’ll go home with a full box and a picture of the two of you, melted chocolate smearing your faces. (Trey will remind you at least three times to brush your teeth properly after all that sugar.)

Cater:

Where you take him: Thrift store

Listen, you find the right thrift store and you can find amazing treasures. And if not, well, you still find weird, kitschy stuff you can have fun ogling. You and Cater will take turns finding the best and worst outfits in the thrift store, having a makeshift fashion show by the changing rooms. Cater would, of course, take plenty of pictures for Magicam, labeling them #MeetMyNewPartner, #HeightOfFashion, #BestLookingCouple. You’ll also look through the aisles, coming up with backstories for all the various objects people have donated over the years. Whether or not you actually buy something isn’t the point. You end the day with plenty of pictures and at least three inside jokes that will drive everyone else crazy.

Where he takes you: Crafting class

There’s been an emergence of cute crafting stores. Make your own bag, make your own candle, paint your own pottery, make a phone case, rug tufting, that kind of thing. Not only are they a cute and totally Magicamable couples activity, it also gives you both something to take home at the end of the day. Whichever you do, I can see you both making a craft for each other. Maybe you keep what you’re doing a secret until the end, filming your reactions when you reveal your crafts. If you pay close attention later on, you can catch him quietly admiring your gift.

Riddle:

Where you take him: Escape room

Back during the NRC Halloween event, when everyone was stuck in the ghost realm, Riddle had a ton of fun solving those puzzles. I think he would love an escape room, finding clues and undoing locks, using logic and guile to uncover the story. He might get frustrated at the harder puzzles, but it’s all worth it when you work together to solve everything. You get your picture taken together with a “We Escaped!” sign that you frame. It would be something unexpected but fun for the both of you. (TBH, I think he would love the Nancy Drew games. Maybe not the part where you keep breaking into people's things and stealing stuff, though.)

Where he takes you: High tea and window shopping

Riddle is going for a classic, something prim and proper for a prim and proper boy. I can see him reserving a table at a high class hotel for high tea, a table set with a beautiful porcelain teapot and a tower of tiny sandwiches and cakes. He’d order a bunch of different teas you could try. Afterwards, you would walk along the street, checking out shops and talking together. Bonus points if you both get to wear something fancy and cute.

Leona:

Where you take him: Picnic

Look, while having the title of Ramshackle Dorm Prefect sounds fancy, you don’t have a lot of extra cash. You would need to do something simple and cheap but still meeting Leona’s royal tastes (You can’t tell me this boy isn’t a picky eater.) Thanks to the Culinary Crucible, you have a few new skills to test out. You find a big blanket in some old trunk in Ranshakle and pack everything together in a cute wicker basket. Maybe you’ll eat in the gardens where Leona always takes naps or go out on the beach to watch the waves. You both end up falling asleep with full bellies. (Leona won’t admit it, but he feels like that was the best food he’s had in a long time.)

Where he takes you: River cruise with a fancy dinner

Leona is going to see your cute picnic date and immediately one ups it with a super fancy and elegant river cruise with a full five course meal. It’s on a beautiful private yacht sailing down a river in the Sunset Savannah. You’ll sit on the deck, candlelight table, while perfectly dressed waiters serve you. This would probably backfire on Leona, though, as you tease him for acting the most prince-ly you’ve ever seen him. Not that you don’t have a ton of fun. By the time dessert rolls around, you’ve both ditched the fancy setting and started skipping stones in the wake of the boat.

Jack:

Where you take him: Canoeing

Something relaxing and outdoorsy and fun. I’m thinking you’ll find someplace like the Ocklawaha River or Crystal River in Florida. A beautiful river with plenty of turtles and fish to spot, surrounded by lush forests or Everglades. If you’re more confident on the water, maybe you each can have a kayak, but I imagine something like you both share a boat. It would be fun to have a sort of eye-spy sheet, like who can spot the most turtles, identify fish, maybe catching sight of a manatee, and, wait, was that an alligator? You’ll end your journey at a natural spring. Dumping your stuff in the canoes, you’ll jump in and spend the rest of the day swimming in the cool water. Maybe you find a good vine or rope and swing out over the water.

Where he takes you: Zip Lining and high ropes course

More high energy and involved than a lazy day river trip, but it gives you two the chance to be close. I can almost guarantee Jack found out about the place you go to from Coach Vargas. You’ll get hooked up into harnesses and climb up to a vast network of bridges and ladders and obstacle courses hung between the trees like a giant athletic spiderweb. Maybe at one point you slip, and, although you’re perfectly safe with the harness system, Jack still lunges forward to catch you, blushing hard after as he realizes how close you too are.

Ruggie:

Where you take him: Food festival

I imagine something like the Plant City Strawberry Festival, the Wilton Blueberry Festival, or the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Heck, even throw in the Epcot Food and Wine Festival if you want to have another Disney reference. Something county fair-like with plenty of free samples. You’re not sure who convinced who, but at some point you end up getting those cheesy headbands with springs on top and plastic versions of food bobbing around your heads. There always seems to be sketchy fair rides at these things, too, so you definitely cling to each other going down a log flume ride, kind of regretting how much you ate beforehand. But that’s not going to stop you from chowing down after.

Where he takes you: Farmer’s market

Listen, if something is good at a farmer’s market, then you know it’s the best. The big ones not only have plenty of great food, but also local performers and plenty of fun extras to buy. Even if you don’t want to buy anything, it’s fun walking through the crowds and seeing all the different stands. You definitely get some super fancy ice cream, probably with some ridiculous flavors like lavender, parmesan, or licorice. Serving sizes always seem huge too, so you both definitely go home with plenty of leftovers. (You totally don’t notice that Ruggie has been paying with Leona’s credit card this whole time.)

Azul:

Where you take him: Game shop

One of Azul’s vignette stories has him practicing throwing dice so many times until he’s able to completely control what numbers will come up. Sure, he might be in the board game club for fun, but also because he likes to win. So a game shop that hosts weekly game nights would be perfect not only for him to show off and impress you, but also a cozy space to have fun and take the pressure off first date jitters. Whether you have a game with just the two of you or join in with other patrons there, you can team up to strategize and win. I personally think something like One Night Werewolf would be perfect. (He does feel bad when he accuses you of being the werewolf, though. Too bad he’s right.)

Where he takes you: Fancy restaurant

It’s nothing compared to the Monstro Lounge, of course, But Azul is putting his best foot forward with a classic first date spot. Azul plans everything down to the most minute detail. He double and triple checks the menu of where you’re going before you even leave to make sure there’s nothing you’re allergic to and there’s something you’ll like. He goes all out: flowers, pulling out your chair, getting a bottle of something fancy and expensive to drink (non-alcoholic if you prefer). Of course, the moment you start complimenting him he turns red and starts tumbling over his words. Maybe you lean into that, enjoying teasing him, the switch from having everything under control to a mess of complex emotions. Still, you slide your hand across the table taking his, and you both have a perfect night.

Jade:

Where you take him: Make your own tea blend shop

Jade is an experimental guy. I think if he wasn’t the founder of the mountain lovers club he probably would be in the science club just to mix together every kind of chemical just to see what happens. You would take him to a small tea shop, maybe in town on Sage’s Island or somewhere else through the mirror portal. You would pick out matching tea cups then choose different flavors and leaves from the jars of dried tea. You could make up little packets of different custom blends, some of them stuff you actually think would taste good, some that just sound interesting all together. You and Jade could trade and drink them together back at the Monstro Lounge.

Where he takes you: Mountain and cave hike

This is kind of a gimme, but I think he’d want to show off all his knowledge of local mountain flora and fauna. He’s the only member of his club, which gives you plenty of time to be alone together and use the club’s budget however you want. He would surprise you by showing you an undiscovered cave entrance. Hopefully it’s not the kind where you have to crawl on your belly to get in. I like imagining something like Ruby Falls in Tennessee. He’d bring you in, turn off his lantern, and crowds of bioluminescent mushrooms would glow around you.

Floyd:

Where you take him: Roller derby

You can’t tell me this boy would not absolutely love watching a bunch of people going super fast while trying to beat the hell out of each other. He would immediately pick a favorite team and buy all their merch. Even if it’s just a small local circuit he’ll make his own merch for the two of you to wear while you cheer them on. Floyd already likes shoes, specifically sneakers, so I think he would really like the idea of roller skating, going as fast on land as he can in the sea. Your next date will be at a roller rink.

Where he takes you: Laser tag

Similar to going to a roller derby, Floyd would love the energy and competition of laser tag. He’d be vaulting over the barriers and launching sneak attacks against other players. Maybe you two would team up and top the leaderboard or maybe he’d hunt you down in the glow-in-the-dark black-light game room. Afterwards you can catch your breath in the lobby and eat junk food. You’re not sure if you’re excited or nervous when he mentions paintball.

Kalim:

Where you take him: Hands-on science museum

Coming up with a first date idea to impress Buys-A-Restaurant-Chain-Because-You-Said-You-Liked-Their-Breadsticks-Once-Kalim is a little harrowing. Sure, you know he would like whatever you have planned, it’s the thought that counts, but that doesn't mean you don’t want to try and show off a little. You eventually find a hands-on science museum. Think the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia or the Tech Museum of Innovation in San Jose or even WonderWorks. It’s something that keeps you active, jumping from exhibit to exhibit to try out all kinds of new things while pretending you're learning. Sure, most of the other people there are kids, but that doesn't stop either of you from having fun. With Kalim’s experience with all his younger siblings, you soon have a small army helping you with the replica dinosaur dig site.

Where he takes you: Fused glass class

Kalim’s first instinct is to go big. Throw a parade, rent out a theme park, buy a private island. This little ball of sunshine is way too excited to think anything through. Maybe Jamil mentions that you might be intimidated by such an overwhelming show of wealth on a first date, or maybe he implies you need to work up to something that extravagant. Whatever the case, Kalim agrees to start small. He’ll take you to a stained glass shop that offers classes in Silk City. You’ll take a fused glass class together, where you take shards and rods of other colored glass, placing them gently together in a shape. The owners fire the final product leaving you with a beautiful hand-made ornament. Kalim hangs it by his window back in his dorm room, smiling whenever the light catches it. (He’s still thinking about that private island, though.)

Jamil:

Where you take him: Aviary

Jamil mentioned in one of his vignettes that he would want to own a parrot one day. So why not give it a test run with a variety of different parrot species, and throw in some parakeets, falcons, lorikeets, and canaries while we’re at it? You buy cups of food and the birds will fly down to perch on your arms and heads. The parrots, in colors ranging from green and yellow to blue and purple and red, show you how they dance and talk. There’s a game you can play with them where you hold up different objects and they’ll tell you what they are and what they’re made of. There’s even a falconry show where the birds swoop out into the audience. At the end of the day, the tour guide makes a joke about lovebirds that you both pretend to ignore.

(BTW, did you know President Andrew Jackson had a parrot that cursed so much it had to be removed from the room during his funeral because it kept swearing? The more you know.)

Where he takes you: Dance class

Mr. Jack Of All Trades, Master Of All over here is definitely going to want to show off. No matter who asked who out first, he wants to reassure you, and himself, that you made the right choice agreeing to go out with him. So he sticks with something he knows best, something he has fun with, and something he can easily introduce you too. Whether it’s a classic ballroom dance, salsa, or classic Scalding Sands folk dancing, Jamil just loves the chance to be close to you. It might be better if you have two left feet so he can show off leading you. By the end, you're both sweaty and exhausted, muscles aching pleasantly, but you're also both laughing and wondering if you should enter a couples dance competition.

Vil:

Where you take him: DIY spa night

Like I said before, you don’t exactly have a lot of extra cash, so I can see you relying on a lot of DIY tricks. You’re hoping to impress one of Twisted Wonderland's biggest triple threats with scented candles (bought half-off at Sam’s), homemade avocado hair masks, coconut oil and honey face masks, and a jade face roller and gua sha set you have no idea how to properly use. Vil definitely appreciates effort, so he’ll love whatever you have set up. He’ll even show you how to actually use that jade roller and gua sha.

Where he takes you: Private movie theater

Let’s be honest, Vil isn’t exactly the most humble person. And you, a magicless student with pretty much no frame of reference for any pop culture or just plain cultural insights in this new world, are in the perfect position for him to show off. Vil would rent out a private theater showing the best and most iconic movies in all of Twisted Wonderland. Of course, he also shows you all of his films (Like I said, not so humble). He may give you the side eye when you insist on sharing a bucket of buttery popcorn, but if you gasp and laugh and applaud in all the right places I don’t think he’ll mind.

Rook:

Where you take him: Art museum

Quelle beaute! No matter what kind of art museum you choose, modern, sculpture, impressionist, classical, whatever, Rook is sure to love it. He’d be the kind of person to carefully read each plaque to discover more about the artist and what inspired their work. He’ll praise each and every piece, only to turn around and compare it to your beauty. While this definitely will get you a few looks from some of the other visitors, you won’t mind because you know he’s being completely sincere with every word. At the end of the day, you’ll probably end up with an art book from the gift shop and you get each other prints of your favorite paintings.

Where he takes you: Zoo

You can take the boy out of the hunt but you can’t take the hunt out of the boy… Or something. We know Rook has a penchant for stalking the poor beastman students at NRC (I bet they have to warn the Savannahclaw first years every year), so I think he would also love admiring animals in a place where you’re actually suppose to watch them. Extra points if there are baby animals. Extra extra points if the zoo has one of those programs where you can go back and get close up encounters with some of the animals, like sloths or elephants. You both definitely get plushies of your favorite animals after.

Epel:

Where you take him: Motorcross

Give the farm boy blood. We know from his dorm uniform vignette that he can ride a blast cycle. Checking out a motorcross race or just a show exhibition would be a high energy outing for you both. Cheering in the stands gives him a chance to cut loose from the stricter rules of decorum in Pomefiore, and sometimes it’s just fun to watch things go fast with a chance of crashing. Maybe you can rent one, or borrow one from Ingenhyde back at NRC, and go for a drive. He’ll probably go a little too fast, maybe from nerves or excitement or just to have to hold him a little tighter.

Where he takes you: Ice skating

Do you know how to skate? Great! He’ll take you out to a frozen lake in the middle of a beautiful forest near Harveston. Some place only the locals know about. It’ll be something right off a Christmas card with glitter snow and a perfect clear blue sky. Don’t know how to skate? That’s fine too! You’ll go to an indoor rink, somewhere where the ice is guaranteed to be smooth and won’t crack under your feet. If you’re just learning, please hold on to him and let him teach you, it’ll make him feel super manly and swell with pride. No matter where you go, you both get hot apple cider after, maybe cuddling together in front of a warm fireplace and sharing a warm quilt.

Idia:

Where you take him: Cat cafe

You’re going to need a good excuse to get Idia out of his room, and this is a pretty good reason. Ideally, you would find a place like Tashirojima, the cat island in Japan, but a good old cat cafe will work just as well. You’ll find the least busy time to go which should help Idia’s social anxiety. But once you both settle into plush low chairs and get surrounded by cute kitties, he won’t even notice anyone else. The cafe sells cute frozen cat treats shaped like cat paws that you buy to encourage the cats to come closer. You snuck in some catnip, and you both spend the day enveloped in cute warm kitty cuddles.

Where he takes you: Video game night

The boy is a nervous wreck around other people on his best days, so when he decides to venture on a date he’s going to go with something he’s most comfortable with. You’ll camp out in his room for the date. He’s gone to great lengths to make it nice, plenty of snacks and soft pillows and blankets. He’ll introduce you to some of his favorite but entry level games first. Maybe something Animal Crossing adjacent, but I have a soft spot for point-and-click adventure puzzle games. Eventually, you’ll end up playing doubles on something more action oriented, Idia showing you all the best tricks and combo moves. (Ortho is secretly taking pictures to show at the wedding he’s already planning for you both.)

Sebek:

Where you take him: Salmon fishing and grill

You like it because it gives a chance to get out in nature and be alone together, he likes it because he gets to catch his favorite food and prove he can be a provider. Sure, it just might be a first date, but Sebek likes to think ahead and he’s definitely taking your budding relationship seriously. You two go out into the woods, probably near where Camp Vargus was held, and set up next to a river. While most of the day is hanging out on the bank and talking, there’s always a jolt of excitement when one of your lines starts to tug and you pull out a beautiful gray and pink salmon. Sure, there was that one time when the fish slapped Sebek with his fin until it slipped from his hands, but you both agree to forget about that (you don’t forget, in fact you think about it often). Around midday, you both realize you’re kind of squeamish when it comes to cleaning fish. Sebek puts on a brave face and cuts them up while you make a campfire. Is it the best meal you’ve ever had? No, definitely not. Are you picking fish bones out of your teeth for the rest of the evening? Yeah. Did you two have a ton of fun and are already planning your next date? Of course.

Where he takes you: Tournament

Does Twisted Wonderland have Renaissance fairs? Who knows, but considering Briar Valley still has knights, they definitely have tournaments. The Bead Brawl is sort of similar to what I’m thinking, but there’s more of a focus on what we would think of as traditional medieval events. Stuff like jousting, sword fighting in full armor, and archery. I don’t think you go all the way to the Briar Valley for this, it’s probably more of a smaller local fair with less serious competition. I think Sebek will be a spectator at this event, but that doesn't stop him from commenting on the participants. He tells you about his own training with Lilia and Silver. He’ll be boastful and loud, but you know him well enough at this point to tell he’s nervous under all the bravado. He wants to make sure you’re having a good time but is too stubborn to actually ask. There are definitely giant turkey legs, homemade soda and mead, and chimney cakes to stuff yourself with. He’ll enter a visitor competition, something fun and light like an obstacle course, and win you a prize. At the end of the day there will be a traditional dance at the fair and you both twirl together under lantern light.

Silver:

Where you take him: Bookstore date

Whether a big chain store or a cute local owned place, the idea is the same. First, you both find the cheesiest romance novel cover in the store. Next, you checked out the cook books, looking for the weirdest and worst sounding recipes (you joke about getting it for Lilia then laugh at the glare he gives you). Finally, you both choose a book for the other that you’ll read then reconvene to talk about at your next date. You find him an adventure book, something you would have called epic fantasy back in your world. He gets you a collection of well known fables and myths from across Twisted Wonderland. He’s slightly worried that you’ll be insulted in his reference to your lack of cultural knowledge of your new world, but you love it, especially the gorgeous illustrations for each story.

Where he takes you: Horse riding along the beach

This can go one of two ways, depending if you know how to ride a horse/are comfortable around them. If you know how to ride, Silver will borrow someone’s horse from the equestrian club for you to ride. If not, you’ll ride behind him, arms hugged around his middle as you cuddle close. Either way, you’ll ride down to one of the beaches along Sage’s Island. You’ll ride along the beach, darting in and out of the waves. Silver will probably have packed a small picnic that you can eat while watching the sunset. He ends up nodding off for a little while you take a break lounging on some dunes, but you kind of like him leaning on your shoulder like that.

Lillia:

Where you take him: Concert in the park

A few steps down from a full on festival, I’m imagining a lush green park, couples and families spread out on blankets, food trucks surrounding everything making the park smell amazing, maybe a couple of craft tents with knick-knacks for sale. There will be a large stage set up for the bands. Lilia prefers heavy metal, but I think he would like any show that plays something high energy. You’ll set up an umbrella to give you both some shade as you watch the acts. Lilia will regale you with tales of his travels and he’d probably love hearing about all the places in your world. At some point, you both definitely spend time dancing ridiculously. Lilia takes plenty of pictures to show off back at Disamonia.

Where he takes you: Esports competition

When Muscle Red told his online bestie Gloomamurai he was trying to come up with ideas for a date, the later said, “I got you,” and set him up with front row seats to the premier esports competition in all of Twisted Wonderland. Arriving at the indoor arena, you get a giant bucket of popcorn to share and Lilia buys you some merch of his favorite team. If you don’t know a ton about esports or the game they’re playing, Lilia will be more than happy to explain the rules to you. You’re surrounded in deafening cheers when your team makes a last minute score to win, hugging each other while jumping up and down. On the way back, Lilia promises to help you set up an account for the online game and teach you the ropes, while trying to remember to thank his friend when you kiss his cheek.

Malleus:

Where you take him: Mini-golfing

You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be adorable to see a giant Malleus hunched over a mini-golf club trying to gently tap the ball into a hole. I can see him at the first hole swinging like a normal golf course, sending the ball twinkling away, Team Rocket style. Mini-golf is a classic first date, and I think he would like the normality of it all. You’re not trying to super impress him, just treating him like a normal boyfriend, a normal date. And it gives you both more time to focus on each other, between desperately trying to hit the ball through the moving fan blades of the windmill hole.

Where he takes you: Historic castle ruins

I can imagine Malleus panicking at first about where to take you for your first official date. Does he bring you to a ball in the Briar Valley? A romantic opera in perfect box seats? Do you start picking out your engagement rings? Instead, he finally decided on an old reliable choice, harking back to how you both first started bonding in the first place. He finds beautiful old ruins, either in Briar Valley or somewhere else, and you just stroll and talk. He’ll tell you about the architecture, maybe the history of the location, pointing out whatever interesting gargoyles he spots. You both understand you don’t need grand gestures or impressive and expensive dates. You’re both happiest being with each other.

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imagine-you · 6 months ago

Text

closer to where I started [Logan/Reader]

Summary: Sequel to won't somebody come take me home? All you want to do is shake off the memories of the past and move forward with your Logan, but an old friend of Wade's threatens to disrupt everything. It turns out your universe isn't quite through with you and neither is the person who hurt you. You'll not only have to fight a new enemy, but you'll also have to rescue the Logan who broke your heart. Of course, your Logan would never let you go without him, and he's also hellbent on making sure the other Logan knows you've moved on. Word Count: 11.1k Author's Note: This fic may contain: protective Logan, protective Wade, Cable, crazy amounts of pop culture references courtesy of Wade, surprise cameos!, jealous Logan, rescue missions, possessive behavior, and some spice (in that case, minors DNI.)

When I'm With You I'm Home 'verse

won't somebody come take me home? // all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

Read On AO3

Life post-Void proved to be in turns exhilarating and challenging. Now, you were in an entirely different universe and with a completely different team. You had a family, dysfunctional and crazy, but still yours. And of course, most important of all, you had Logan.

The two of you were still navigating the first few unsure steps of your relationship. You were falling more and more in love with him with every passing second, and you couldn't help but catalog all the little differences that set him apart from the first Logan in your life. The other Logan, as you had started to think of him.

Before, you were used to an empty bed after sex and feeling like you were having to coerce the other Logan into anything approaching a meaningful conversation. Now, the new Logan in your life, the better Logan, pulled you close after you were both spent and held you all night long. He let you talk about whatever came to mind and offered his own feelings and views without ever once making you feel like he was merely tolerating having a conversation with you.

The other Logan never wanted to go out or spend any quality time together. He never brought you gifts or remembered your favorite foods or any other little thing that might have shown you he cared about you. Your Logan cooked for you and bought your favorite dessert and showed how much he truly cared about you in every tiny little interaction.

You navigated past awkward first dates into other stages of your relationship. You got to know your Logan, really know him, and that was something you never felt with the other Logan. You were always left unsure, wanting, longing with the other Logan, but your Logan made sure you were completely confident and fulfilled with your relationship.

Best of all, your Logan believed in you. In your universe, you had been relegated to the b-team of the X-Men, but now you felt like a valued member of whatever Wade called his team. Be it X-Force or X-Men adjacent, you knew that you could trust them, and they would have your back. You knew they didn't think your powers were useless and actually counted on you to help them. Logan had made sure of that.

"So, this Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and that's actually her name, you're sure?" You checked with Wade, waiting for his nod of agreement, before continuing. "She wants our help because your large metal friend is in trouble."

"Colossus, sure," Wade confirmed, checking over the guns he was bringing with him.

"Who's he even fighting?" You thought a guy who was solid steel would have trouble finding an enemy he couldn't just knock out with a punch.

"Some douchenozzle named Riptide, apparently," Wade informed you with a shrug of his shoulders. "He spins around and throws bones out of his body or something," he continued, sounding unbothered by the sheer absurdity of his words.

"Great," Logan huffed, keeping his eyes on the road. "We've got a human tornado on the loose."

When Logan pulled the car to a stop in the middle of a ruined street, you thought he wasn't too far off in his description. Cars were twisted on their sides and blood was splattered across various surfaces. Windows had shattered and stores were missing walls. You couldn't see anyone at first, but then you realized what you thought was another piece of a car was actually Wade's friend.

"There," you told him, pointing towards Colossus. He was currently lying in a crater, but you could see that he was slowly beginning to move.

"Fret not, my robust metal friend, I'm here to save your day," Wade called as he got out of the car.

You heard Colossus groan, and you couldn't even tell if it was because he was in pain or because of Wade.

"Think I can just drive away?" Logan asked, glancing over at you. "We can just leave him here, right? How long do you think it'll take before he shows up again?"

"Knowing Wade? Not very long," you answered, leaning over to press a kiss to Logan's cheek. "Let's get out there and do some vigilante shit or whatever Wade calls it."

"Trademark T-Swift!" Wade called, nodding approvingly at you.

"For fuck's sake," Logan groaned, before he slipped his cowl over his head and got out of the car. You felt a smirk tug at your lips at the sight before you and opted to stay in the car for just a moment as you watched Logan approach Wade and Colossus. He was starting to unsheathe his claws, and you couldn't help but take him in in all his glory.

That was another thing that your Logan was better at than the other Logan. You mentioned once that you found him sexy in the cowl and now he wore it every time you had to fight a bad guy.

You tried to tamp down on your grin as you got out of the car. When you approached the group, it sounded a lot like Wade was trying to get information out of Colossus.

“What the hell happened here? Did you eat Taco Bell again?” Wade asked, reaching out to pat Colossus’ stomach.

Colossus reached out to halt Wade’s touch. “The Riptide is a formidable opponent,” he answered.

You noticed a man dressed in a suit beginning to approach you and the others.

"Is that our guy?" You asked, pointing towards the man.

"Yes," Colossus confirmed with a solemn nod of his head. "And who are you?" He wondered, frowning at you.

"Y/N," you introduced yourself, holding out your hand for him to shake. You were intimidated by how huge and heavy his hand felt, but the gentle way he shook your hand put you at ease.

"Piotr Rasputin," he offered in return.

"Rasputin? I used to know a girl with that last name," you mused as you watched Riptide approach. You could see him begin to spin, gaining momentum and speed as he got closer.

"Stay back," Piotr warned, shaking his head. "Riptide is very deadly. He's already killed several today."

Piotr tensed his shoulders before running towards Riptide, only to be knocked back again.

"Oh, get up, you're embarrassing me," Wade hissed, reaching out to help Piotr up. "You took on the Juggernaut!" Wade reminded Piotr, grabbing him by the shoulders and attempting to shake some sense into him. "And you're telling me you can't take this walking Beyblade? Get back in there!" Wade commanded before giving Piotr a slap on the ass.

Piotr grumbled something under his breath before starting to approach Riptide again. As Riptide got closer, Piotr planted his feet and attempted to stay in place. You could see flakes of metal begin to chip off as he was pushed backwards and you realized that Riptide would rip Piotr apart if something wasn't done.

"Okay, new plan," Wade decided, pulling free one of his guns. He shot at Riptide, but every bullet was deflected, since he was spinning too fast for them to hit. "Fuck!" He barked before dropping the guns and grabbing his katana that had been strapped to his back. "Maximum effort," he grunted before running into battle.

Logan lowered himself to the ground before charging at Riptide. You saw him try to leap at Riptide, but he was thrown back, taking out a partially crumbled wall with him. Deadpool had managed to get a little closer, but it was only because you realized he was getting pulled in by the vacuum Riptide was creating. Wade was doing his best to slash and stab, but it might have been a little harder for him when his limbs were on the verge of being ripped away.

"Shit, shit, shit," you chanted as you moved forward. You held your hands out, concentrating on Riptide. You had only gotten better with your powers in the time that you had escaped from the Void. You had felt lighter, less burdened, and much more in touch with the push and pull of your forcefields and erasing yourself out of visible existence. Now, you could even make your forcefields invisible, where before they shown a faint blue, shimmering in the air.

Still, you didn't know if you could contain Riptide, but if you didn't do something soon, he would dismember Wade, flay Piotr, and you didn't even want to know what damage he could do to Logan.

You weren't going to let it get that far.

You watched Riptide's movements and began to form a forcefield around him, careful to make sure Wade wasn't ensnared as well. Riptide didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong until Wade dropped to the ground. You could see him begin to heal as he clutched at his arm where it was dangling from his shoulder, barely hanging on.

You were struggling to contain Riptide, but you were determined to keep him in the little bubble you had created for him. He hurled something at the forcefield and you could feel it like a hit to the chest, but you didn't let up. He began to spin faster, taking shots at his new prison, but not able to break it.

"Holy shit, girl," you heard Wade exclaim as he rushed to join you. "I've got to get you to hunt Pokémon with me sometime. I'm gonna get you to nab me a Tornadus."

"Shut up," Logan huffed as he walked over towards Piotr and helped him up.

"Not that I don't appreciate the support, but what the hell are we going to do with him? I can't do this forever."

Riptide was finally slowing down and you realized that he had a hand to his chest. He was panting and fell to his knees.

"He's running out of air," Logan pointed out, carefully approaching Riptide. "He sucked it all up in that vacuum he created."

"Okay, so let the little sucker suffocate," Wade bargained, rotating his newly healed arm.

There was a ripple in the air beside you and you turned to see someone stepping out of a portal.

You weren't really sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a man who looked like he was dressed for war. He was wearing combat boots and had various weapons holstered to his thighs, waist, and chest. He had scars on his face and arms as well as a stony expression that would have deterred anyone from fucking with him. You weren't phased by that, but the metal arm and glowing left eye did give you a bit of pause.

The man reached into your forcefield with his metal arm and placed a collar around Riptide's neck. As Riptide slumped to the ground, drained, you brought a hand up to your chest. There was a dull ache that had taken up residence there that didn't go away until the man pulled his arm out of your forcefield. You had never seen anyone get through one of your forcefields before and you didn't like it.

You saw Piotr frown at your forcefield before curiously poking it with a finger. When he couldn't breach it, his brow furrowed in confusion.

The man turned to look at Piotr and gestured towards Riptide. "Do what you will with him. That collar should keep him from being a danger to anyone else."

"Who the hell is this guy?" You asked, defensive and still a little sore from the intrusion of your forcefield.

"An old buddy," Wade informed you, sounding oddly excited.

The guy turned towards you and approached you. "Y/N, you're coming with me," he continued, reaching out to grab your arm.

Logan lunged at him, stopping the stranger from making contact. "Like hell she is, bub. Who the fuck even are you?" Logan put himself between you and the guy, staring him down.

"Alright, alright, since both the big guys are bad at words, I'll speak here. Let's all just be friendly here," Wade instructed, stepping forward to put a hand on Logan's chest and the stranger's and push them just the tiniest bit away from each other. "This is Cable. He's the son of Cyclops and Madelyne Pryor, blah blah, genetic template for Stryfe, blah blah, something about Mr. Sinister and foreshadowing, infected with a techno-organic virus and a whole bunch of other mumbo jumbo Fred Savage told me." Wade took a step back until he was standing next to you and leaned in, lowering his voice. "Yes, that Fred Savage."

You stared at Wade in silence for a moment, trying to process all the information he had just dumped on you. You didn't know Scott had a kid and who the hell was Madelyne Pryor? And you had most definitely never heard of anyone who went by Mr. Sinister. But what you felt most important to ask was: "Who the fuck is Fred Savage?"

Wade gasped and turned to fully face you, ignoring the fact that Cable and Logan were still having a staring contest that would likely end in bloodshed. "You take that back right now or I'm getting that guy," he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to point towards Logan, "to spank you."

You felt a sly grin pull at your lips. You had felt off-kilter since Cable showed up and fucked with your forcefield, but bantering with Wade had become normal for you. This, at least, was familiar ground. You leaned towards him until you were close enough to almost feel his breath through his mask.

"Promise?" You whispered, winking at Wade when his eyes went wide.

"Ooh ho ho, I always took Logan for the brat in the bedroom, but you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

You heard Logan let out an irritated growl, letting his claws show again, but he didn't take his eyes off Cable.

"We're versatile," you offered with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Oh, you're naughty, girl," Wade approved with a laugh. "I like you."

"Ditto," you conceded, knowing that it would annoy Logan more. Sometimes, you liked getting him all riled up, because it meant that once it was just the two of you alone, he would take you apart in all the right ways.

"Enough," Cable snapped, moving to sidestep Logan. He finally wrapped a hand around your arm, and you realized you couldn't even protect yourself with a forcefield, since he could just walk right through it. "Your universe isn't quite done with you yet, so you're coming with me."

You felt a spike of panic at the thought of going back to your universe. Your old life with your old team and old Logan and Jean and everyone who had left you devastated and broken. You could think of one or maybe two people you would want to see from your old universe, but not enough to actually go back there.

"No," you blurted, instinctively pushing Cable away from you with a forcefield.

He hadn't been expecting it, so he staggered back a couple steps, but it wasn't nearly as far away from you as you wanted him.

Logan lunged at Cable, sinking his claws into his arm. Cable was quick to throw him off and you saw Logan start towards him again, when Piotr cut in.

"Perhaps it's better if you take this somewhere else," he advised, bringing attention to the small crowd you had attracted.

Cable scowled at Logan before considering his arm. For someone who had just been simultaneously stabbed three times and was now bleeding, he didn't seem all that concerned about the damage.

"Fine," he allowed with a look at Wade. "Let's take this back to your place."

Wade opened his mouth, but Logan shot him a look that dissuaded him from talking, and Wade let out a heavy sigh. "Ugh alright," he groaned, "but you owe me a double entendre. Also, you're driving," Wade told Logan before making his way back to the SUV.

Logan kept an eye on Cable as he nodded towards the vehicle, silently prompting you to follow Wade. Wade tried to take the passenger seat, but you were quick to steal it from him. If Logan was going to be driving, then there was no way in hell you were sitting in the backseat with Cable. You were worried he would find a way to simply reach out and steal you away, stranding you in your worst nightmare.

At least with Logan right by your side, you would feel safe. You always felt safe with him.

The drive back to Wade's apartment was awkward with tension and unspoken concerns. Wade was bouncing nervously in his seat and he kept trying to get Cable to talk about where he had been the past few years. Logan was gripping the steering wheel so tight that you were surprised it hadn't broken off in his grasp. And you were just keeping your breathing steady and trying to quell your racing heart.

You didn't know anything, you reminded yourself. Maybe you misunderstood. Maybe Cable misspoke. Either way, you knew that Logan wouldn't let you go back to your old universe. Not without a fight and certainly not alone.

You reached over to grab one of Logan's hands, grateful when he unclenched it from the steering wheel. He let you hold onto him like a lifeline, keeping his eyes on the road even though you knew his thoughts were on you.

You felt the weight of someone's stare and turned to see Cable watching you from the backseat.

"What," you snapped.

Cable didn't say anything, but you had a feeling he knew more about you than you wanted him to.

By the time you were sitting at Wade's table, Logan to your right, Wade to your left, and Cable opposite you, you were starting to get the creeping sense that something had gone horribly wrong.

"So, I think I can finally speak for all of us when I ask what the hell are you doing here? Not that I'm not thrilled to get a reunion, surprise cameos are my favorite, but I got the impression you weren't ever coming back," Wade pointed out, leaning in towards Cable.

Cable quirked an eyebrow at him, clearly unimpressed, but he still deigned to answer Wade.

"I've been tasked by the TVA to clean up a problem in Y/N's original universe. If she had stayed, it would have been taken care of, but now that universe's Wolverine has been captured by a man known as Omega Red."

"Omega Red? That's this shitstick's name? Wow, he is such a pick-me girl, you know what I'm saying?" Wade asked Logan, shooting him a conspiratorial look.

"I never know what the fuck you're talking about," Logan shot back, looking pissed off, but not necessarily with Wade. You realized Logan was worried for you and the prospect of you having to see the Logan who broke your heart and left you for Jean.

"Didn't know I picked up an Old Man Logan, am I right?" Wade muttered to you, nudging you in the side with his elbow while he held his other hand up in the air, palm facing you in a silent request for a high five.

You shook your head, aware that Logan was watching, but you discreetly held out your hand palm up behind your back, making him settle for a low five out of Logan's view. You were grateful for Wade's distraction, but you had already made up your mind.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest, and shook your head. "It's not my fucking problem."

"We need your abilities," Cable argued, his gaze unerringly on you. "Omega Red releases death spores when injured. He heals himself by draining everyone around him. Someone who can sneak up on him and trap him with a forcefield could save a lot of people. We just need you to incapacitate him."

"Then get Sue Storm," you told him, refusing to budge.

"She's dead," Cable grunted, visibly getting more annoyed by the second.

"You must not be hearing me," you admonished him, your voice edged with steel. "That's not my fucking problem. If they needed me there, then they should have fucking left me there. But they dropped me in the Void, so this is on them. I’m staying here."

Cable let out a chuckle that wasn't anywhere near amused. "The TVA thought you might feel that way and they're prepared to make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" Logan asked, shooting you a wary glance.

"If Y/N does this, then they'll let her stay here permanently."

You felt a little jolt of fear spike through you at the idea that what you had now was only temporary. The TVA held a terrifying amount of power, and they could rip the life you had built yourself right out of your hands.

"And what if she doesn't?" Wade wondered, his tone finally drifting closer to something serious. It was the voice he used when he knew shit was about to hit the fan and he was wondering who he was going to have to kill first. You knew Logan was protective of you, but hearing it from Wade made the chill that had swept over you with Cable's warning start to abate. You were flanked by two people you could count on to have your back and you couldn’t have been more grateful for them.

"If she doesn't, then the TVA will prune her again. Or they'll strand her in her last universe with no way home. Or they'll hand her over to Alioth. Who knows what they've got on their mind?"

Cable sounded like he was done with the whole thing and you were beginning to wonder if the TVA had something on him to make him work with them.

"All I know," he continued, meeting your eyes, "is that your forcefields are unique. They're not only psionic, but they're damn near invulnerable."

"You could reach through it," you pointed out, absentmindedly bringing a hand up to your chest. It had felt like an invasion, something so inherently wrong that it had affected you physically.

"Eventually, I won't be able to," Cable told you. "You're getting stronger all the time and there will come a day when you'll be able to use them to block out a telepath of even Charles Xavier's strength."

"Damn," Wade muttered, shooting you an appraising look, as if he was seeing something new in you.

"This Omega Red guy can't regenerate in one of your forcefields, so he won't be able to harm anyone trying to save his own skin. He's smart, though. He's a super soldier who's been highly trained in hand-to-hand combat and a skilled military tactician."

"So, what's he want with big and angry over here?" Wade asked, pointing a finger at Wolverine. "What'd he do to piss the guy off?"

"He believes that universe's Logan knows where to find a Carbonadium Synthesizer. He has Carbonadium tentacles--"

"I'm sorry," Wade interrupted, holding up a hand. "This guy is living, breathing tentacle porn and you want us to kill him? Get him in a bare-chested wrestling match with Doc Ock and you'll make millions."

"Wade," you groaned, barely resisting the urge to hit your head on the table. "So, he wants this synthesizer thing and he thinks that the other Logan has it? Is this just a rescue mission or are we doing something else here?"

"I'll escort you to protect you and take him down, but he does know a way around my defenses," Cable admitted with a gruff, resigned voice. "If we can mortally wound him and you trap him in a forcefield before he can regenerate, then the problem is solved. Forever," Cable pointed out.

"If I do this," you started, hating that there was a strong possibility there was no way around seeing the other Logan again. "Then that's it. No more threats or taking me back. Whatever debt they think I have is settled, alright? I get to stay here and be happy here and never see those people again," your voice shook on the last word and Logan reached out to put a hand on your thigh, silently attempting to comfort you.

Cable nodded his head, reaching his hand across the table. "I believe we have a deal."

You reluctantly grabbed his hand, letting him shake yours, before you let go. "Then I'll go with you."

"Hold on," Logan cut in, finally speaking again. "This Omega Red knows how to take you out, so there's no guarantee that you can keep Y/N safe. If she's going back to that place, then I'm going with her."

"But Omega Red knows how to take you down too," Wade reminded Logan. "So, obviously, you're gonna need the merc with a mouth and I know just where to find him."

"No," Cable tried to deny, but Wade was quick to talk over him.

"Road trip!" He exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. "I've got to pack," he said, clapping his hands together in excitement, before skipping over towards his room.

"We need a moment," Logan told Cable before he grabbed your hand and pulled you up out of your chair. You followed Logan, in a bit of a daze, until he got to the door of Wade's apartment. He pulled it open, tugging you out into the hallway, before firmly closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

You shrugged your shoulders, twisting your mouth to the side in an attempt to keep yourself from crying. You could still feel that weight in your throat, threatening to make whatever words you decided to speak choked and broken.

Logan seemed to know, though, without you even having to speak a word. He wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to rest your head under his chin. You felt like he was trying to protect you from the world and you had no doubt that he would kill Cable and run off with you if that was what you wanted. But you didn't want the TVA to track you down and throw you back in the Void. Or worse, strand you in your original universe, where your heartache would surely destroy you.

You knew what it was like to be loved now, and you couldn't go back to a place without it.

"What're we going to tell Laura?" You couldn't help but ask, refusing to pick your head up to look at him.

"Someone's got to keep an eye on the place," Logan mused, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. "She'll be fine."

"Yeah," you sighed, reaching up to grab fistfuls of Logan's shirt, practically begging him to stay right there with you. "I don't want to see him again. Or her. I just, I think of how it ended and how practically no one cared that I was hurting. They were happy for the new couple and I was left in my room in the mansion, wondering how I had ended up completely alone."

"You're not alone anymore," Logan promised, gathering you closer to him. "And I'm not going to let either one of them make you feel that way again."

"Okay," you agreed, pulling away from Logan when you heard Wade's voice approaching the door. You hastily wiped away the tear that had managed to escape your control.

"I've got everything ready and loaded," he was saying as he opened the door. "So, let's get this universe hop on the road and spear us a kraken."

Cable looked resigned as he joined Wade and you couldn't help the briefest smile at his long-suffering sigh.

"I was only cleared for two," he pointed out, but he still reached out to put a hand on Wade's shoulder.

"Wait," you said, brushing past Cable to get back into Wade's apartment. You scribbled out a note, hoping that if Laura went looking for you or Logan, then she would find it. You stared down at the words, trying to make yourself believe them, and then rejoined the others.

Gone out to save some asshole. Be home soon.

"Let's get this shit over with," you told Cable, reaching out to grab Logan's hand just as the hallway outside Wade's apartment shimmered and disappeared.

There was a brief moment where it felt like everything got flipped upside down and your vision blurred before the picture in front of you finally smoothed out into something recognizable.

You were met with the sight of the X-Mansion and you felt sick to your stomach. The place that used to be your favorite place in all the world, where you felt saved, had turned into the setting for your nightmares.

You felt Logan go stiff at your side and you glanced up to see what had caught his attention. Logan growled and moved to place himself in front of you, shielding you from the man on the path leading up to the front doors.

You saw the satisfied smile on the man's face and pushed past Logan, rushing towards him. Logan tried to reach out for you, but you evaded his grasp, knowing you weren't in any danger.

"Erik," you greeted, practically running into his arms when he held them out to embrace you.

"Where have you been all this time? I've missed you," he murmured, pulling you close for a moment before letting you go. "It hasn't been the same without you here." His gaze flickered to over your shoulder, and he quirked an eyebrow at what he saw there. "I see you've brought another brute with you. You know you can do much better," he pointed out.

"No, I can't," you denied, looking over your shoulder to see Logan and Wade looking completely gobsmacked to see you so friendly with Erik. “And it’s a really long story, but I promise I'm in a much better place now,” you assured him.

Erik narrowed his eyes at you, as if he was trying to figure out if you were telling the truth or not.

"You're friends with Magneto?" Wade wondered, sounding like he was still trying to put the pieces together in his head. “Magneto?!”

"Does Charles know you're here?" Logan snarled at Erik, finally advancing on the pair of you.

You couldn't help but laugh, sharing an amused grin with Erik. "I should hope so," you told Logan. "Since they're married," you finished, watching as Logan's eyes went wide with surprise again.

Wade groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "There's a universe where I could've had a chance with daddy Fassbender here? What the fuck," he moaned before he reached out to smack Cable on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you take me here sooner?”

Cable rolled his eyes, pushing Wade away from him, before he addressed Erik. "We need the X-Jet."

Erik ignored Cable and looked at you. "You're working with them?" From the disdain in his voice, you knew Erik was moments away from insulting the others, so you quickly nodded your head.

"They're my friends. More," you amended with a look at Logan. "And we have to go rescue your Wolverine because apparently I'm the only one who can do it without casualties. And if I do this, then I never have to come back here." You shared a look with Erik, knowing that he would be able to tell that was what you wanted more than anything. You no longer considered this place your home and you desperately wanted to go back to where you knew you really belonged.

Erik watched you in silence for a moment before he finally dipped his head in a nod. He reached out to put a hand on your shoulder, ignoring Logan's snarl, and gifted you with a smile. "If you're truly happier with them, then I'll do what I can to help you."

You leaned forward and pulled Erik into another hug. He had been one of the only people you felt like you could count on and while Charles had always seemed to have a soft spot for Logan, Erik had one for you. When you were heartbroken, refusing to leave your room, he had been the one to offer to strip all the metal from Logan's body and encage him in an adamantium prison he would never escape. You had declined the offer, even if you had certainly appreciated it at the time.

"How did you get to be so chummy with Magneto?" Wade questioned you when you were on the X-Jet and on the way to Berlin to rescue the other Logan and take down Omega Red. "He's only one of the most well-known villains in the Marvel universe and there you were hugging him like you were old pals."

You shrugged your shoulders, not entirely understanding what Wade was talking about, but then that wasn't exactly a novel experience for you where he was concerned. "He's fought Charles and the X-Men on occasion, sure, but I don't know. I guess after years of going back and forth, they realized they were in love and didn't want to keep fighting it anymore. They figured they had both suffered enough at the hands of the other and gave in to what was inevitable." You remembered Erik telling you about chess dates in Paris and heated arguments that turned into something more. "And Erik always understood me. He was really the only one in the mansion I could count on when everyone else saw me as expendable."

"Huh," Wade mused, leaning back in his seat. "So, is it an open marriage or--?"

"We're almost there," Cable called, cutting Wade off. "Five minutes."

Logan cleared his throat, glaring at Wade until he finally got the hint and joined Cable in the cockpit.

"This Omega Red guy," Logan started, squinting his eyes like he thought the name was stupid, but continued, "he sounds like a big deal. If it starts going south, I want you to get the hell out of there."

"If anyone's in danger here, it's you," you pointed out. "He's already taken out one Wolverine and I don't want him thinking he can take you too. If he also manages to fuck with Cable again, then the only thing that's going to keep this plan on track is Wade and me. So, if it looks like he's going after you, then I don't want to risk you. I’d rather you be the one to get the hell out of there."

Logan's brow furrowed in frustration. "I'll regenerate," he reminded you. "This guy's got death spores, whatever the hell those are, and a track record of killing everyone around him to save himself. I feel like I'm finally in a place where I can breathe again and if he takes you away," he abruptly stopped talking, clenching his jaw to quell the despair that had leaked into his tone. "If he takes you away, then I go back to being that guy Wade found passed out in a bar and ready to take a bullet to the skull just to make it all end for a while. Don't make me be that guy again," he begged, reaching out to grab your hand and keeping it tight in his hold.

"So, then we both promise not to die," you tried, not knowing how to navigate forward. Logan had been vulnerable with you before. He wasn't scared to let you know what was on his mind and you knew he trusted you more than anyone, but hearing about how broken he had been before Wade whisked him off to his universe had despair clawing at your heart. You knew you would be a mess without Logan, but you never seemed to realize just how much he needed you. "And then we can go back home and we can forget all about this place."

Logan squeezed your hand before he nodded his head. "Alright," he sighed before moving to stand up, pulling you with him. "Let's fucking get this over with, then."

It only took ten minutes for you to realize that Cable might have been holding back when he was talking about the danger Omega Red posed. Cable warned that Omega Red was smart, but he was such a skilled fighter that he was able to fight Logan, Wade, and Cable without sustaining any significant damage.

You were keeping an eye on the fight, because you had been warned not to get too close until you were needed. You were waiting for any sign that Omega Red might be on the brink of death, but you got distracted when you noticed that the lab where you found Omega Red also had another room hidden at the back. You made your way towards the door, climbing over a desk and evading Cable when he got thrown across the room, landing in front of you.

Cable barely spared you a glance, taking a moment to check his weapon before joining the fight again. You could hear Wade taunting Omega Red and Logan yelling at him to get out of the way and Cable taking shot after shot. Pandemonium had fully engulfed the room, but you tuned it all out, drawn in by the mystery of the room.

You found yourself at the door and there was a feeling in your gut that told you exactly what you were about to find, but you needed to see for yourself.

You took a deep breath, wincing at the sound of someone's bone breaking and a frustrated scream echoing through the lab, and opened the door.

He was lying on a bed, passed out and blissfully unaware of the war waging in the next room and inside your head. You had hoped that you would never have to see him again, but now he looked so harmless when his eyes were closed and he wasn't leaving you for someone else.

"Y/N!" You heard Wade shout in warning, and you turned in time to see one of the tentacles from Omega Red heading right towards you. You were quick to let yourself become invisible before rushing into the room, narrowly avoiding getting pierced through the chest.

The tentacle retreated and you dared a look out of the room, catching sight of Cable on the floor, unmoving. Wade was doing what he did best, never staying still and taking any shot he could, but Omega Red now had his full attention on your Logan.

He was ruthless, going after him again and again, and you could see blood staining Logan's suit. You stepped into the room, circling the fight and waiting for your chance. You knew if it came down to it, then you would throw the whole plan out just to save Logan. But you believed in him, and sure enough, when Wade slashed at Omega Red's ankles, bringing him down to the floor, Logan stuck his claws in his throat. He shot his arm up, slicing Omega Red's lower jaw to ribbons, and quickly stepped back.

You formed the forcefield around Omega Red, pouring all of your concentration into the task. Omega Red let out a laugh, blood spilling from his throat freely. He didn't move, but you could feel something pulling at your forcefield. You remembered what Cable told you about Omega Red draining people to heal himself and you knew he was trying to do that to you.

All you had to do was outlast him.

Omega Red turned his gaze on you, still smiling as if he thought the whole situation was hilarious. You were steadily building up your forcefield, terrified that he would manage to pull it down. Omega Red finally stopped smiling and his hand went up to his neck, studying the blood that coated his fingers. You saw him sway, but that seemed to only steel his resolve, and he pulled on your forcefield again.

Wade was trying to rouse Cable, but Logan was steadily watching you. You thought about him and what was in store for you once you succeeded. Logan and a home and a family and no fear. No longing and pain and insecurity. No more wondering if you would wake up one day, stuck in an empty room, with a team that had betrayed you.

You had everything you wanted with Logan and you would be damned if you lost it all now.

Your forcefield held steady, and even though you could see Omega Red waver, it seemed he still had one last trick up his sleeve. A cloud formed around him and became so thick that you could no longer see him. You had a moment to wonder if those were the death spores Cable had mentioned before you felt like someone had poured fire right down your throat and into your chest.

You gasped, barely catching yourself from stumbling. Logan took a hesitant step towards you but you shook your head. You couldn't afford the distraction and there was no way in hell you were letting your forcefield down now. Omega Red seemed hellbent on mutually assured destruction and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

So, you held on with just the thought of Logan in your mind. You pushed past the pain and the black spots in your vision and concentrated on keeping your end of the bargain that would see you finally getting the happy ending you deserved.

After what felt like hours of Omega Red pumping out poison in an effort to escape, you noticed that the spores began to lighten and disperse. Omega Red was slumped on the floor, his gaze fixed on the ceiling of the lab. He wasn't moving and he wasn't breathing and he wasn't alive anymore.

You held on for just a moment longer, sure it was some kind of trick, before you finally let your forcefield drop. You didn't realize you were on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in a daze, until someone was standing over you.

"Y/N," Logan called before he crouched down, cupping your cheek in his hand. "Are you okay?"

You offered him a smile, shaky and uncertain, before you managed to nod your head. "I'm alive," you croaked, feeling your chest tighten for a moment, before the pressure relented. It was then you got a better look at the Logan staring down at you and you realized he was entirely wrong. "Ugh," you groaned before you weakly pushed his hand away. "Get the fuck away from me," you ordered, searching for your Logan.

It turned out he wasn't far, because one moment the wrong Logan was there hovering over you and the next he was on the floor. Logan pulled his claws from the other Logan's sides with a snarl before turning towards you. His expression quickly morphed from rage to concern. He dropped to his knees, his hand trembling as he pulled you up, letting you lean on him.

"That was too close," he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Can you stand?"

You shook your head, looking up at your Logan.

"C'mon," he coaxed, slowly but surely standing with you in his arms. You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes slipping closed, finally feeling safe again.

“Way to go,” you heard Wade crow as he approached.

You squinted at him, seeing he had Cable’s arm around his shoulders and was doing his best to support him.

“Like, seriously, I thought we were all moments away from becoming extras in The Last Of Us. I was entirely ready for Pedro Pascal to bust in and shoot me in the head for inhaling the spores, but you did it. Hey, you don’t look so good,” Wade observed, tilting his head to the side. “You doing alright?”

“Fine,” you rasped, glancing up at Logan. “I wanna go home.”

Logan nodded his head, turning his attention towards Cable. “Think you can still pilot like that?”

Cable grunted in discomfort as he stood, shaking off Wade’s help. “I’ve had worse. Let’s just get the fuck out of here,” he said before making his way towards the exit.

Logan started walking, doing his best not to jostle you too much in his arms. You could hear the slow shuffle of footsteps trailing after the group and you knew the other Logan was reluctantly following.

Your Logan glanced down at you, frowning at you in concern. “Stay with me, alright?”

You blearily nodded your head, feeling exhaustion creep up on you. You had never fought so hard to keep one of your forcefields up and you knew the only reason you had managed it was because of Logan. He believed in you. He loved you. He cared about you. All of that and more had given you the fire you needed to keep Omega Red contained.

"I can't believe you were ever considered the worst one," you whispered, knowing Logan would still hear you. "Not when he exists," you continued, reaching up to trace your fingers over his lips. You gently tapped your fingers against them, smiling when that only served to get a huff of laughter from him. "You're the best Logan," you assured him before you finally allowed yourself to pass out.

Consciousness returned and fled from you, bringing you little bits of awareness. Logan carrying you back to the X-Jet and the other Logan trailing behind, a scowl on his face. Wade splayed out across multiple seats and singing showtunes to the other Logan. Logan's arm around you and Cable calling out that you had arrived. The hallways of the X-Mansion and Erik's voice ahead of you. A bed and a warm weight around your waist and a kiss to your forehead.

The next time you woke, it was to a sight you had hoped to never see again.

"Is this my room?" You grumbled, turning an accusing look up at Logan.

He was sitting beside you on the bed and you knew without a doubt that he had never left your side. He held a book in one hand and the other had been resting on your back, keeping you held close with your head pillowed on his thigh. He set the book down on the nightstand, being careful not to move you.

"It is," Logan confirmed before reaching for you. You let him pull you further into his side and tucked your head up under his chin.

"What time is it?" You wondered, glancing at the curtains and the glimpse of darkness outside.

"A little after ten," Logan answered, lightly running his fingers up and down your back.

"I don't want to be here," you told him, pushing away from him to sit up. "I hate being in this room and all of the memories and--" You abruptly stopped talking, dropping your head in your hands. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out unwanted memories that threatened to overwhelm you. Curling up on the bed, clutching a pillow to your chest, tears running down your cheeks. Sobs choking you, hearing everyone's whispers, dodging their stares. You had felt so alone despite Erik’s sympathy and now your chest felt heavy with the memory.

"Hey," Logan murmured, reaching out to pull you back towards him. "We can leave as soon as Cable gets back. He dropped us here so he could go talk to the TVA and then he's taking us back. We're not staying," he assured you, his hands going to your shoulders and turning you until you could meet his eyes. "We're going home," he promised once he knew he had your full attention.

You nodded your head, but you could feel that creeping sense of doubt begin to take hold. Somewhere in the mansion, Jean was fussing over Logan and they were in love and didn't give a fuck about what they put you through. It killed you, just the tiniest bit, that they were no doubt happy together.

Suddenly, you were on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Logan caged you in with his arms, lowering his body on top of yours. "I think," he started, brushing his lips against yours. "It's time to make new memories here. Better memories," he amended with a smirk.

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you raised your head enough to kiss him. It felt like coming home in the best way and you knew that you couldn't let the past overwrite the present.

Logan pressed his lips to yours, his hands tightening in the bedsheets at your sides. The kiss grew hungry and consuming, Logan nipping at your lips and begging entrance with his tongue.

You let him in and Logan set about claiming you, groaning into your mouth when you gave back everything he was giving you. You felt his hands settle on your hips before they swept up, beginning to inch your shirt higher.

Logan broke away from the kiss to plant one on your bottom lip, chin, jaw. He bit kisses into the underside of you jaw and the sensitive spot behind your ear that he knew would make you crazy. You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled, silently begging for him to take it off. You wanted to feel all of him, everything, all that you could get.

"I couldn't stand it," he growled, refusing to move as he continued to mark your skin. "Seeing his hands on you and the way you reached for him, thinking it was me. I wanted to rip him apart," he snarled before finally pulling back.

He pulled his shirt over his head and helped you do the same. His fingers brushed against your stomach before trailing down to the button of your pants. You nodded your head, giving him permission, eager to feel all of him again. It didn't take long before you were both fully bared to each other, ready to lose yourselves together.

"He's never going to touch you again," Logan promised, his hands drifting over your sides, hips, thighs. "No one but me," he continued before he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. He lightly scraped his teeth along the skin there before pulling it into his mouth, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Logan," you breathed, feeling like you were coming back to life. You couldn't believe you had just felt so unwanted and unloved when you had Logan ready to stake a claim on every inch of you. "No one but you," you agreed as he worked his way lower, slowly kissing a path down from your neck to your chest and then stomach. You could feel the low, pleased rumble in his chest, knowing that he was driving you absolutely crazy. You wanted to move closer to him to try to urge him along, but you couldn’t. He was gripping your hips, making sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

He pressed a kiss to one of your hips and then the other. He looked at you, staring at you from between your thighs, before you saw his lips tick up with a devastating smirk. He reached up to grab one of your hands and placed it in his hair. "Hold on," he commanded, barely giving you time to grip the strands in your grasp before he lowered his head and began to take you apart.

Hours later, you were on round four or five, you had honestly lost count, but you knew you were lost in a state of euphoria. Logan's hands were on your hips and he was buried in you, but he was staying still, simply taking in the sight of you beneath him. You knew you must have looked like a complete and total wreck. Your spine felt like it had melted right into the mattress and your mind was a mush of thoughts all focused on pleasure and Logan and love and want.

There were marks littering your chest and stomach and thighs. You felt overly sensitive in all the right places and you knew that you were going to be incredibly sore later on, but you didn’t care. Right now, Logan looked just like you felt and you loved that you had been the one to have that effect on him.

"C'mon," you urged, pulling at his shoulders and bucking your hips up into his in an effort to get him to move. “I’m so close.”

He reached up a hand to cup the side of your face before he shook his head. "Say it," he demanded, a growl in his voice.

"Say what?" You wondered, even though you knew exactly what he wanted. It wasn't the first time he had asked you for it that night and you couldn't help teasing him just the slightest.

"You know," he admonished, pulling out enough so he was just barely inside you. You felt your thighs begin to tremble and you tried to tighten them around his waist, but he stayed firm. "Say it," he repeated, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck. He pressed fully back inside you as his teeth scraped the mark he had left just behind your ear.

"Logan," you whimpered, clutching at his back, your nails claiming temporary marks on his skin.

"Louder," he ordered, pulling out before burying himself inside you again.

A delicious heat was traveling down your spine and settling low, shooting off little zings of pleasure that had you half insane with the need to fall right back over that edge again. Logan had been incredibly attentive all night and now you were rounding the track again, the home stretch just barely within your reach. He began to bite kisses into your neck and down your chest, before he started up a maddening pace with his hips, and you could feel yourself begin to fall again.

"Ah, fuck, Logan," you moaned, not even caring how loud you were being now. You clutched at him, lost and seeking a lifeline, trusting him to see you through to the end.

He worked his kisses back up until he had his face in the crook of your neck. You could tell just from the feel of his lips that he was smirking, pleased with you.

"Good," he murmured before he flipped you both over, letting you be on top. His hands trailed up your sides before settling back on your hips. "You're mine," he grunted, holding on to you as he pressed his hips up, seeking his own release. "You're mine, you're mine, you're mine," he chanted as he lost himself inside you again.

After, when he had his arm wrapped around you and your head was resting on his chest, he trailed a hand lightly along your back. You shivered and pressed yourself closer to him, glad when he pulled the sheet tighter around the both of you. You felt sore and sated, the last few hours completely erasing and rewriting the history of the room. Now, you looked at the walls and didn't think of how they had witnessed your desolation, but now knew of the way you were loved. Gone were the memories of tears, replaced with the echoes of your pleasure.

Logan had done exactly what he told you he would. He created new memories for you and you were so dizzyingly in love with him that you couldn't help but squeeze his hip, letting him know you were still there with him.

"I meant what I said, you know," he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're mine now and I'd never let you come back here to him. To any of them. Because I'm yours too," he continued, finally letting his hand rest between your shoulder blades. "We belong to each other."

You managed to look up at him despite the way sleep was trying to drag you down. "Promise?" You couldn't help but check, knowing that he had well and truly ruined you for anyone else.

"With all my heart," he confirmed, his tone sincere.

"Good," you murmured, already beginning to slip off to sleep. "Love you," you managed to get out before sleep rushed up to claim you.

You never heard him say that he loved you back, but you felt it just the same.

In the morning, you woke to an empty bed. Before, if it was you in this bed with the other Logan, you might have worried that he left you because he didn't care about you enough to stick around, but you didn't have to worry about that now. Your Logan was nothing like the one from your original universe and he would never do that to you.

You got out of bed and pulled your clothes back on. There was a rip near the right hip of your pants where Logan had been a little too eager to rid you of them. You didn't care what you looked like as you shuffled out of your old room, rumpled and content. It wasn’t like you planned on sticking around for much longer and there was no way in hell you ever planned on coming back.

You followed the sound of voices to the kitchen. You froze at the entryway when you noticed the other Logan leaning against the counter, glaring down at a cup of coffee. His arm was wrapped around Jean's waist, his hand splayed protectively over the bump under her shirt.

It felt like a punch in the gut to see Jean pregnant. They didn't waste a second, you couldn't help but think, and when Jean turned to look at you, you realized she caught that. You thought about what Cable told you, that your forcefields would eventually shut out telepaths, and you imagined one of them closing around your mind. You didn’t want anything projecting out that she might be able to hear. When Jean flinched and hurriedly looked away, you knew that it had worked, if even for a moment.

You sneered at her back, ready to get the hell out of the room and retreat, when you heard someone call your name. Wade was sitting at the kitchen table, a pile of pancakes in front of him, while your Logan watched you with a warm, inviting smile.

Wade began to wave at you, as if he thought you wouldn't be able to see him.

"Over here," he called, reaching out to pat the chair beside him. "Saved you a seat," he offered, turning his attention back to his food. He still had his mask on, but it was rolled up so his mouth was free, and he could shovel forkfuls of pancakes into his mouth at a speed that was starting to make you nauseous.

"Here," Logan murmured, sliding over a cup of coffee once you sat down.

You took a sip, savoring the taste, and offered him a smile. "Just how I like it," you told him, leaning over for a brief kiss.

You heard someone clear their throat and you glanced over to see the other Logan staring at you. He looked as if he was waiting for something, but you had no idea what he might expect from you. If you had your way, you wouldn’t even be in the room, but the buffer of Wade’s rambling mouth and presence of your Logan were the only things keeping you rooted to your spot.

"You look a little tired, there, Wolvie," Wade observed as he let his fork clatter down on the empty plate. He pulled his mask back down and rolled his shoulders, as if he was getting ready for a fight.

"Don't call me that," the other Logan snapped, taking a step away from Jean.

"Well, what else can I call you? Logan Two?" He tried, shaking his head. "No, that's not right. Maybe Loser? That seems to fit you better."

"Shut the hell up," the other Logan spat and you saw Jean roll her eyes before leaving the room.

You couldn't help but feel lighter without her there. You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but you felt insecure with her anywhere around your Logan. It only helped that your Logan had spent the last few minutes with his hand on your thigh and his attention focused on you. He reached out to gently press his thumb to the underside of your jaw, briefly caressing the mark he had left there the night before.

“Can’t wait to get you home,” your Logan murmured, a wicked smirk on his face that sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

You heard something shatter and glanced over to see the other Logan clutching a broken cup and coffee splattered on the floor beneath him.

"What's wrong there, Wolvie? Didn't get enough sleep last night?" Wade asked, adopting a faux concerned tone.

"No," the other Logan growled, shooting a scowl at your Logan. "I didn't."

Your Logan gave the other Logan a pleased, smug grin before taking a sip of your coffee. "Funny," he started, before setting the cup down and staring him down across the kitchen. "Can't say I slept much last night, either," he claimed, bringing his arm up to rest along the back of your chair.

Your only warning was a snarl of rage before you felt your chair tip back and you were on the floor. The other Logan had rushed at your Logan and threw him into the table. The table buckled and collapsed and you used a forcefield to push back the other Logan. He looked betrayed for a moment and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of that before your Logan lunged at him.

You lost track of the fight, both of them frenzied and enraged. There was blood sprayed across the tiles and a crack in the counter where the other Logan had been thrown. The fight ended with your Logan's claws stuck in the other Logan's chest and Wade standing behind the other Logan, his katanas crossed over his throat, ready to decapitate him if needed.

"I can't leave you anywhere, can I?" Cable interrupted, sounding resigned. You didn’t even notice him appear, you had been so invested in the fight and making sure your Logan or Wade didn’t get seriously hurt. "Come on," he continued, "it's time to get you three back home."

Hearing Cable call Wade's universe your home gave you all the motivation you needed to walk forward and put your hand on your Logan's shoulder. "Hey," you whispered, knowing he was listening to you even though he was still glaring at the other Logan. You also had the other Logan's attention, which made what you said next even sweeter. "I'm happier with you," you reminded your Logan. "And I don't want him anymore," you said, meeting the other Logan's eyes.

You saw the shock in his expression fade into fury, but he knew he was trapped. Still, he snarled and jerked in your Logan's hold, blood beginning to drip from where Wade's blades had sliced into his skin.

"Goodbye," you told him, even if you didn't think he deserved that much from you.

The other Logan didn't respond, but from the look on his face, you knew he got the real message. You were completely done with him.

You let your hand drift down from your Logan’s shoulder to his arm, prompting him to finally pull his claws out of the other Logan's chest. He took a step back, staring the other Logan down, before he turned to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

"Let's go home," he told you, beginning to usher you over towards Cable.

You didn't spare a glance at the other Logan, not wanting to look back. You knew that it was much better to keep your focus on your future ahead with your Logan and not on what or who you were leaving behind.

When you finally got back to Wade's universe, Cable turned to face you.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Here," he said, waiting for you take it from him. "There's no going back now," he warned you. "I made sure to get it in writing for you."

You skimmed the piece of paper, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"What's it say?" Wade wondered, reaching out to pluck the paper out of your hands. After a moment, he chuckled before looking at Cable. "You big 'ol softie," he said before slapping the paper to Logan's chest, barely waiting for him to grab it before he threw his arms wide. "Group hug," he said before sweeping you into an embrace with Cable. "C'mon, Logan, get in on this."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of your throat. Wade was ridiculous, but you appreciated his sentiment. Cable released a heavy sigh before extracting himself from Wade's hold.

"Good luck," he told you, before beginning to turn a dial on the device strapped to his forearm. "I think you're going to need it."

And then he was gone, leaving you to pat Wade on the back and step into Logan's arms. You felt lighter, freer, after reading the paper that confirmed that the TVA wouldn't be sending you back to your old universe. You truly were free to forget all about your old life and focus on your new one.

You pulled away just enough to frame Logan's face in your hands before you pulled him in for a kiss. It had taken you heartbreak and pain and a whole host of other terrible things to get you where you belonged with the right Logan, but you wouldn't have traded the experience for anything.

Now, all you had to do was make sure you held on tight and refused to let go. From the way Logan kept you in his arms, a relieved smile on his face, you knew he felt the same.

Neither one of you was willing to lose what you had gained without one hell of a fight.

Later, you would remember that moment when you were in Logan’s arms while he tried and failed to keep Wade from joining the embrace. You would remember your helpless laughter at the sight of Logan’s perplexed scowl while Wade managed to hop on his back. It was that moment, when you felt unburdened and free and happy, that would get you through the tragic events ahead.

Author's Note: I'm so fucking nervous about this one. I rarely write anything with spice, so I'm literally fucking terrified right now y'all will hate this. If you liked this, letting me know would make my day. And I have an idea/plot for a third chapter, so if y'all want to read that, please let me know. And if you want to be tagged in the next part, please let me know! I figure as long as y'all let me know you want to keep reading this fic, I'll keep on adding more to it. And if there are characters/scenarios/other Marvel stuff you might want to see, let me know! I might be able to work it into the fic. (also, we're just going to pretend reader never met negasonic teenage warhead or colossus yet for the purpose of this fic.)

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