#he was so incredibly correct here

[correct-hermitcraft-quotes]

Scar: Many podcasts were listened to! Many bits of knowledge went into my head and disappeared shortly thereafter, like everyone who listens to podcasts.

[melodyatlas]

jason is so incapable of being Chill about sex but he doesnt want tim to think hes needy so he goes too far in the other direction in an attempt to seem less obsessed. unfortunately for jason, it ends up making him go So Rough with tim, tim still ends up thinking jason is obsessed with him, he just thinks its in a hatefuck way and not in a 'i would knock you up in a heartbeat if i could pls be my partner and stay with me forever'

[chaosxcrushed]

There's a certain CCCC summary video that we really, really like. We think it is a great video for people if they want to grasp the story more clearly, if they're confused, or if they're listening to the album for the first time.

That video being Chonny Jash and the Weight of the Mind on Youtube by W3tBl@nk3t. We think they cover it really well.

However, I'm sharing this for a different reason; they say few certain things that really struck with us until now, that I'd like to share with the fandom. Sometimes, we see people really just.. Miss the point of CCCC entirely, and I'd like to shine a light on what was said here. If you'd like to hear this for yourself on video, the timestamp is 35:57-36:45.

“..I bet we all could relate to that, they are the prime example of the side of you that suffers and the side of you that hates yourself for suffering:

The side of you that just wants to slow down and feel everything even to the unhealthy extent of not being able to do anything else(1), but also the side of you that so desperately wants you to get over it(2).

Sure, laying in bed all day every day to rot isn't healthy, but neither is boiling things down and invalidating your own emotions. Both are paths to inevitable disaster, and that's what Chonny is doing here. Keep in mind that the idea behind this album is being whole, and that means neither of these sides are entirely in the right or the wrong; this album is about inner compromise and acceptance(3).”

1.) The side of you that suffers; Heart. He is representative of Whole's emotions, he holds them. Your emotions can go haywire, especially when one's mentally ill and has no way of their feelings being validated. An emotional person like Heart suffers under the weight of crushing, devastating feelings. He wants to feel things out, have time to just process everything, even if it takes them days or weeks to get over it. It's not healthy, but feeling is what he does, and he wants to help because he knows he has importance. Solely focusing on just your emotions isn't the best thing to do, however.

2.) The side of you that so desperately wants you to get over it; Mind. Many people have been there, have wanted themselves to stop wallowing in their own emotions and just do something else, even to the point where you think feeling things out is unnecessary. This is also unhealthy, but not intentionally. Like Heart, Mind just wants to help, everything he does is in best interest. This is what he thinks will get them to move on the quickest; to leave behind emotions and focus on anything BUT that. Also not the best thing to do.

3.) This album is about inner compromise and acceptance; About being whole. Neither of Heart and Mind are right nor wrong. They have their own ways of doing things, of what they think will help their whole self out the most, but both are unhealthy despite the good intentions. They fight over who's wrong or right, when they shouldn't even be doing so in the first place. It's your thoughts against your emotions, basically; your feelings contradict your thoughts, and it leads to an inner war of sorts. This won't make things better, which is why you can't have Mind over Heart or vice versa; you'll need both of them. In the album, they are only able to be whole when they get along. They harmonize, they 'combine', they see eye to eye with each other and work together instead of fighting over and over. Inner compromise is achieved with this, and acceptance can lead them away from any disaster that there's to come.

What we're trying to say is that mental health is a large thing tackled within CCCC, and yet we see a lot of people who overlook it; thus, end up missing the point of the whole album. We see a lot of people believe Mind's perspective a little too much and treat Heart quite harshly, or the other way where people demonize Mind and say that Heart is perfect, when it's not really that in the slightest.

This is not a hate post towards people's interpretations of CCCC or how they view characters, I'm just saying that people can tend to overlook what's in the very narrative, and we see a concerning amount of people do such.

Anyways. Stream CCCC and put your Hearts and Minds in the get along shirt. Have a nice day.

[silvergifting]

i love having a younger sibling whose specific special interest is just. teotihuacán. am i currently sitting in bed trying to sleep? yes. is he also currently sitting on my floor telling me every detail about the layout of apartment complexes in period iii? (at least i think it was period iii lmao) also yes, so i guess sleep is for the weak and i'll worry about that later!

[adriartts]

Something about purpose and pasts, old worlds and new ones.

(Dialogue from @dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition‘s Bird and Bear are Friends)

[anotherpapercut]

theres this guy who works with me and does a monthly program where he shows a movie for free at a local indie theater. it's really cool and fun but he literally is only picking like extremely, shall we say, un-diverse movies and it's getting kind of irritating. one of the movies had 1 gay character who had the least lines of any of the main characters and 1 had implied gay characters (dead poets society) and 0 have had a single person of color in any of the supporting cast let alone the main cast

[thespamman24]

What your favorite jazzer says about you!

Louis Armstrong- You don’t know why I’ve just broken into your house and asked you at gunpoint what your favorite jazz artist is, as you don’t listen to much jazz.

Miles Davis- You’re basic.

Bill Evans- You’re racist.

Chett Baker- You want to have sex with Chett Baker. 

Sun Ra- As a kindergartner, you were reprimanded for eating paper, an event that has haunted you for life. A career as a very unique artist awaits you. Also, you can name every species of preying mantis, all 51 of them. 

Pharaoh Sanders- You don’t know shit about preying mantises. 

Alice Coltrane- You’ve been trying to find Satchinada for the last 20 years, but it continues to allude you.

Phelonois Monk- Your favorite kind of sandwich is peanut butter and jelly.

Peter Brotzmann- You didn’t stop eating paper at kindergarten. In fact, as you read this, you’re currently eating the stuff. You do you, I guess.

João Gilberto- You constantly carry around a fanny pack full of important provisions such as trail mix. You’re disappointed that no one wants to use your Netflix password.

Wayne Shorter- Everyone laughs at your pointy shoes. “What are you some kind of elf?” they ask. Then, you kick them. They aren’t laughing after that.

Duke Ellington- A prestigious career of drawing of drawing furry smut awaits you. I salute you. 

Ryo Fukuri- You keep a shotgun beneath your bed in case someone with tattoos comes too close to your front lawn.

Max Roach- You’re wondering if I may have switched those last two. No, I did not. Shut up. 

Charles Mingus- You wear a bald cap wherever you go because it increases the chances of being slapped on the head- the most enjoyable aspect of living.

John Coltrane- You’ve been kicked out of eighteen Whole Foods stores, and you plan to make that number in the triple digits before you depart this green earth. Nothing brings you more satisfaction than opening the nut dispensers and watching the waterfall of cashews descend onto the ground.

Art Blakey- Fuck if I know. 

[exopelagic]

List of my curses:

• Cassandra

• straight boys keep happening to me

[thefallofruins]

First time dad! Sukuna

“This is…mine?”

He looks down at the little wrapped bundle in his arms, a look of confusion etched onto his face. His eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at the little thing, who looks back at him with equal interest.

Except her eyes are filled with innocence. And they share a resemblance with his. Such a beautiful contrast, you think.

“She is.” You chuckle softly, correcting him, still incredibly tired from the pains of birthing his child. But the sight of the father holding his daughter for this first time was so amusing that you couldn’t help it. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond immediately, still fixated on the small…tiny little thing he’s holding. He’s so uncharacteristically gentle with it…like one mistake and she’ll shatter. He raises a finger to her plump cheek, caressing her soft skin.

“Like you,” he finally responds, as the little girl’s tiny fingers immediately latch onto his, wrapping around them. A soft smile forms on his face as he looks at her, then at you. The wonderful woman who graced his cursed existence with such blessings.

He wants to say something, but a strange…slimy feeling of wetness on his finger prevents him from doing so. He looks at the little one in his arms, slurping on his fingers.

“Oh, so you’re a brat too?” He pulls his finger away, and hell breaks loose. He is even more confused now.

“She’s hungry, Kuna,” you pout, extending your arms from the bed, “Bring her here.”

He shuffles closer to you, his hand working surprisingly gently as he hands the little girl to you, and she immediately latches onto your breast as you loosen the robe to feed her.

“Has my appetite.” He grumbles, causing you to chuckle again. He stays for a while, internally swearing at the sight of you and your little girl— that if anything ever even tries to touch either of you, he will rip the world to shreds, and god knows what ends he’ll get to to keep you safe.

“Brat,” He mumbles, one of his hands resting on your head, making you look up to him as he ruffles your hair slightly. “Thank you.”

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it��s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[bpmiranda]

Beauty and the beast trope with Beast!Logan and Belle!reader has some interesting possibilities xoxoxo

Beauty And The Beast (Logan Howlett)

A/N: fluffy, beast!logan, belle!reader, soft!logan

Everyone in town knew to avoid the cabin nestled between the mountain hills. No one was brave enough to take that hike, scared of the rumors, terrified of being caught on his property.

They told their children bedtime stories of the beast living in the hills. Cautionary tales to keep them from wandering too far into the woods. And he liked it that way, he enjoyed the solitude, the fear of him.

At least he thought he did.

You were driving home from college during a rainstorm. It wasn’t a terribly long trip, but having to drive slow due to the slick, winding roads of the hills did add onto your time and the night had fallen around you. You hated driving in the rain. Your mother had passed away due to an accident in a storm similar to this one and the thought made you anxious.

As soon as you thought about perhaps calling your dad, letting him know you might be late, a flash of lightening and clap of thunder startled you. The blue light of the storm illuminated the road in front of you and you gasped as you realized a large tree had fallen into the road, blocking your path so that you had nowhere to go. “Damn it.” You breathed out, looking around at your surroundings and sighing. You couldn’t very well wait the storm out here in the middle of the road. Where could you go? The town was still a good forty miles down the hill and there was absolutely nothing around here. Except - “Ah!” You gasped, startled out of your thoughts by another clap of thunder and you sighed, holding you heart over your chest and breathing heavily.

There was no other choice.

Slowly, you turned back around and drove through the woods, your breathing shallow and shaky as you could see the lights of his cabin. You didn’t know if anyone that ever came here, you weren’t sure if this might even be the correct cabin. Surely there were other people who owned cabins? To avoid a whole mountain because of one man seemed excessive, terrifying as the stories may be.

The cabin wasn’t covered in moss or decorated in human skulls as you had been told as a little girl, so you figured it was safe enough to knock on the door in seek of shelter. Before you could even get out of your car, the front door opened and in the doorframe, silhouetted by the light behind him, stood an incredibly tall and large man, the supposed beast living here. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly got out of your car. You waved, and immediately wanted to smack yourself. Why on Earth are you waving? You thought as you slammed your car door shut and slowly made the walk up the driveway, uncaring of the rain as it poured down on you.

“What do you want?” His voice called as you stood at the bottom of the porch, shivering and holding your arms tightly as the cold rain sliced against your skin.

“The road is blocked by a tree. There’s no way to get to town.” You explain, squinting to try to get a glimpse of his face. “I-I need a place to stay for the night.”

The man was silent until he stepped back into his cabin and left the door open for you to come in. You quickly followed him, closing the door behind you and turning to see, not a beast, but a very attractive man with lots of hair and a thick beard. You could understand the term beast if it meant large and muscular, but he wasn’t ugly or foul-looking as they had claimed him to be. No, he was just a man.

“That road won’t be cleared in the morning.” He told you and you gave him a confused look. “No one comes up here. They’re not going to clear it anytime soon. Especially not for me.”

“Oh,” You breathed out, looking around the cabin and wondering where the townspeople got the idea that he lived like an animal in filth. It looked very much like a home. “I have nowhere to go.”

Logan had never seen someone quite like you. So beautiful while drenched in rain and a shivering lip. Your eyes so deep and big, looking at him without fear, without judgement. You couldn’t possibly be one of the townspeople. He would’ve remembered you. “What were you doing up here?” He asked as he walked into his kitchen and began to gather mugs.

“I’m visiting my dad from college. I grew up in the town at the bottom of the mountain.” You explain, following him and watching him pour some coffee. “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

The man turns to you and sets the mugs on the table, pulling a chair out and motioning for you to sit. “You couldn’t have known. Have a seat, warm up while I find you something dry to wear.” He said as he left you sipping coffee at the table and retreated into the back of the cabin.

When he returns, he looks apologetic as he’s holding a flannel that appears to be one of his own and nothing else. A blush creeps onto your face and you set your mug down. “I didn’t think you’d have much that would fit me.” You say with a light laugh as you get up and approach him. “Thank you, um -”

“Logan.” He answers as he hands you his flannel. Your laugh made his heart jump, the feeling of your soft fingers lightly grazing his hand as you take the shirt sends an electric signal up his arm and he craves more. More of your touch, if to just hold your hand at the very least.

While you’re changing out of your wet clothes, Logan’s decided to fix you something to eat, but he’s not sure of what you eat. Are you a vegetarian? Maybe you have allergies. It’s then that he begins to wonder why he’s even making a fuss. You’ve only had her in your home all of five seconds and you’re playing husband, he scoffs to himself and turns around just to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you.

His flannel falls right above your knees and you’ve cinched it with the belt you had looped through your jeans. Your hair is messy and wavy from the rain, falling softly over your shoulders and he feels his heartache at the sight. “Almost a perfect fit.” You say as you pad barefoot over to him and take the seat you were previously occupying. “Are you certain I’m not being a bother, Logan?” You ask as you look up at him with those wide eyes, chewing your bottom lip nervously.

Logan shakes his head, sitting across from you as he smiles. “Not at all. Stay as long as you must, please.” You smile bashfully and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you notice the ingredients he had set out on the counter.

“Oh! Let me do this.” You say, immediately getting up and preparing to fix you both a meal while Logan watches, enthralled by you.

As you’re cooking, Logan asks you about your studies. You ask him about how he ended up in this mountain. He asks about your father, and you ask about his. Then he asks about your mother. “She passed away last year.” You say with a small, sad smile. The pain still slightly raw.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” You say while stirring the contents of the pot gently simmering. “She passed away on this mountain, a car accident during a storm like this one.” You recall and a shiver runs up your spine. Logan nods slowly. “It’s been hard without her. She was very kind and sage, always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.” Your eyes find his sympathetic ones boring into you and you ask, “Do you know what it’s like?”

“I do.”

You smile kindly at him and you lower the heat on the stove to let it finish cooking slowly before you sit across from him at the table. “Why do they call you a beast?” You ask curiously. Logan chuckles and then holds one hand up from where three large blades slide out between his knuckles and your eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re one of the gifted.”

“Most just call us mutants, or in my case, beasts.” Logan says as he retracts his claws.

You frown and reach over to place your hand over his. The feeling of your small, warm hand gives him that longing feeling again. “You shouldn’t hide up here because of it. You’re just a man at the end of the day. Those fairytales are just that, stories for children. Being gifted like this doesn’t make any of it true.”

Logan’s hand turns around under yours and he holds it gently, his thumb caressing the top of your hand. “I’m afraid no one in that town would be as accepting and kind as you, beautiful.” He says, making you blush as he lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles.

The oven suddenly dings, indicating that the bread is done, you squeeze his hand affectionately. “You hungry?” You ask as you’re getting up to plate dinner for the both of you.

Logan’s eyes follow you, watch every movement of yours with a hawk’s eyes. His tongue moistens his lips as you reach into a cabinet for bowls, his flannel rising slightly on your small frame and giving him a better view of your thighs. “Very.”

I feel like there will have to be a second part🙈 Thank you very much for this request! I thoroughly enjoy Disney movies💚

Part Two

[bro-atz]

seeing double

in which: your complicated situationship with your upperclassman gets more complicated thanks to the feelings of an underclassman.

pair: college student!seonghwa/college student!afab!reader/college student!wonbin

word count: 11.1k

content: love triangle, lowkey dramatic, confessions, nicknames (doll, doll face, baby), smut (obvi), fwb (w seonghwa), seonghwa's lowkey a dick, jealousy sex, horny rabbits...?, three different smut scenes omg, slightly drunk make out session, oral sex, threesome, double penetration, safe sex, completely consensual!

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: thank you @yunhoszn for helping me w the development of this fic ily babes •///3///• nd honorary dedication to @starryriize bc you chose to torture me w ian reels /j also yes i'm repeating myself w the college trope (nd some of the warnings) but i can't help myself i love college aus

another world masterlist

WONBIN had a massive crush on you. You were smart, beautiful, charismatic— if he believed in love at first sight, it was because of you.

He didn't join the journalism club because of you; the fact that you were the vice president of the club was merely a happy coincidence. Wonbin made sure to never miss a single meeting because the meetings were the only way he got to see you. You were a junior, and he was merely a freshman. He honestly wondered if he even had a chance with you because you were an upperclassman and probably wouldn't go for someone younger than you, but he still wanted to try his luck because, as far as he could tell, you were single.

"Alright, well that concludes this week's meeting. Everyone has their assignments, correct?" you asked as you sorted your papers.

Everyone nodded, but Wonbin's nod was just a little more vigorous.

"Great. Okay, go off, do your thing."

You dismissed everyone, and before Wonbin got out of his chair, you said, "Wait, Wonbin, I need to talk to you."

"Y-Yes?" Wonbin stuttered while praying his voice wouldn't betray him by cracking.

"Your last article was really good, but I'm wondering if we should have you exploring the arts department more."

"What do you mean?"

"You have a clear passion for theater and musicals, so if you would like, you can focus on the school performances instead of being assigned to whatever's left," you explained.

"You mean like... I get my own column?"

"Yep— Only if you want it, though!" you clarified.

"No, I really do want it! Thank you so much!" Wonbin said excitedly while bowing gratefully.

The thing was that only upperclassmen got their own section, and all of the underclassmen picked up random scraps here and there, so the fact that Wonbin was getting offered this chance was incredible to him. Plus, if you were the one breaking the news to him, that must mean you really like his articles.

"So, Seonghwa's going to talk to you more about the column maybe tomorrow or next week," you continued. "It depends on when he gets done with his capstone, after all."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Wonbin nodded— after all, the president did have the final say for everything.

"Good. Alright, I'll see you later then."

Wonbin nodded and bowed again before doing his best to leave the room confidently. The second he was out of the room, though, he held onto his beating heart and exhaled heavily. A smile and light pink blush crept onto his cheeks as he replayed the moment in his head. The smile lingered on his face as he left the building with a skip in his step.

"Hey, Wonbin," a girl he'd never seen before suddenly approached him as he left the building. "I— I have something to tell you..."

Slightly taken aback, the smile on his face faltered as he looked at the girl. He took in his surroundings and realized that there was a group of girls standing several feet away watching his interaction with this girl with a blazing red face.

Oh. Another confession.

"What is it?" Wonbin tried asking as politely as possible, but his patience was wearing thin.

"I... I really like you!"

Lord.

"Oh, well, thank you," he said softly.

"Will you go out with me?" The girl suddenly got a little bolder as she lifted her head to make intense eye contact with him.

"Ah, well, um... I already have a girlfriend," Wonbin lied straight through his teeth.

The girl's face fell. She looked at the group of other girls and glared at them. Then, she quickly turned back to Wonbin and said, "I-I'm sorry for wasting your time! Bye!"

Wonbin watched the girl scurry off to her friends and start sobbing the second she got to them. He let out a soft sigh. He grabbed his headphones from his bag and put them on before playing a song and making his way off campus.

Why couldn't he just get the girl that he wanted?

YOU finished up the article you were working on and were cleaning up your station when your phone pinged with a new notification.

seonghwa: meet me at the bridge

The bridge he was talking about, the only bridge on campus, was a five minute walk from your building. You messaged him back before wrapping up and heading out of the building.

It was already nighttime when you left the building. You shouldn't have been surprised at that point because you were used to staying late to finish up articles, but every time you walked out to a dark sky and barely any stars, you were always surprised. Quickly, you made your way to the bridge and saw Seonghwa standing at the peak of it while leaning against the wood railing. The second you took a step on the creaking wood, Seonghwa turned his head, his gaze meeting yours.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

"Hi."

"So, tell me," the man got right to it. "How was the meeting?"

"It went well. Everyone did what they were supposed to, everyone got their assignments— standard."

"Good."

"Oh, and I told Wonbin about the column. He seemed pretty excited about it," you couldn't help but giggle thinking about the giddy expression on his face and the stars sparkling in his eyes.

"Yeah? That's good to hear."

Seonghwa, for some reason, seemed a little disgruntled after you brought up Wonbin. You were confused— it was his idea to give Wonbin the column in the first place, so why was he acting all weird about it now?

You knew Seonghwa was definitely bothered when he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pockets. He took one out and stuck it between his lips, only for you to take it out of his mouth.

"What?" Seonghwa turned to you, very clearly irritated.

"Not yet."

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Okay, but I'd rather not make out with you when you have cigarette breath, Hwa," you responded while leaning closer to him.

"Oh? Is that on the table tonight?"

Seonghwa turned towards you and wrapped his arms around you before pulling you close to him.

"You have to ask? I thought that was a given."

"Hmm, okay, doll face," Seonghwa hummed.

His hands strayed down to your ass. He held your ass tightly before pulling up, bringing you to your tippy toes and closer to him. You held his shoulders and brought your face closer to his.

"Your place or mine?"

Seonghwa, somewhat lost in thought, hummed again while teasing you, his lips barely grazing yours.

"Your place. My roommate's bringing someone home."

"Alright, but one condition."

"What is it?"

"Stop fucking teasing me and kiss me."

Seonghwa stifled a giggle and leaned away from you to get a look at the expression on your face. "We're in public," he whispered. "Do you really want people to see?"

"Hwa, your hands are on my fucking ass right now."

"Touché."

Finally, he stopped teasing you, and he pressed his lips against yours. His hands moved from your ass to your lower back. His fingertips tickled the dimples on your back, and his lips made yours tingle when he tugged upwards on your lower lip. You ran your fingers through his hair with one hand, your other hand slipping from his shoulder to his chest. His arms pulled you even closer— you had no idea if there was even room between the two of you— and you felt his pelvis press against you. He was starting to firm up.

"Wait," you breathlessly pushed him away, the man whining slightly. "Let's go before you fuck me on the bridge."

 The entire walk back to your place, Seonghwa kept a slight distance between the two of you. The great thing about the bridge was that not many students used it, so he was able to be as intimate as he wanted to be with you there, but the walk from campus to your apartment made you go through the major hotspots of your college, and if the two of you were going to keep your relationship a secret, you both had to act like there was absolutely nothing between the two of you.

So, the second your front door shut behind you, Seonghwa pounced on you. He grabbed your shirt collar and pulled you in while making out with you sloppily, your own fingers getting tangled in his hair. His fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt nimbly before untucking your shirt and pulling the sleeves down quickly. He continued breathlessly kissing you as he pinned you against the door. You worked on getting his shirt off, the buttons coming off one by one to reveal his white wife-beater.

You were getting impatient. You pushed Seonghwa away from the door and towards your bedroom, Seonghwa ultimately carrying you while you wrapped your legs around his waist so he could kiss you a little more comfortably.

As soon as you got to your room, Seonghwa sat then laid down on the bed, making you straddle him and hover above him. Still kissing, you reached behind you and unhooked your bra, the bra flying somewhere in the room the second the straps fell off your shoulders.

You saw Seonghwa's eyes sparkle when he laid eyes on your breasts. He slid down slightly and wrapped his arms around you to bring you closer to him, the man immediately sucking on your breast as soon as it neared his mouth. You sighed blissfully the harder he sucked, and you moaned softly when he began massaging your other breast with his hand.

"Seong— Mmm! Seonghwa, p-please," you whined. "Just fuck me, please..."

Seonghwa chose to ignore you. He, instead, switched breasts, and instead of massaging your breast again, he ran his hands down the curve of your bare waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants. He tugged on your nipple gently with his teeth, his hands removing your pants, allowing you to kick them off.

"Stay on your hands and knees, doll face," Seonghwa said, his voice low and sultry, sending tingles down your spine.

You chose to listen to him. Seonghwa slipped off the bed and pushed you forward so that you were in the center of the bed. He brought your waist up slightly before licking a stripe along your cunt. You gripped the duvet below you and sighed with pleasure as you felt Seonghwa's tongue ravish your pussy.

"Oh my God— Oh fuck!" you cried when you felt his finger draw circles on your clit while his tongue pushed through your folds. You clawed at the sheets and curled your toes as you felt the pleasure building within you.

As he continued to eat you out, Seonghwa removed his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled his cock out. His tongue was still deep inside you as he collected some of your arousal onto his fingers before stroking himself. The higher and shorter your moans got, the faster he fucked his fist. It was when his tongue found your clit once again did white fill your vision. You cried loudly as you came, Seonghwa nearly getting a facial as you squirted. He quickly drove two of his fingers into your cunt and fingered you hard and fast, getting you to squirt again. Your thighs were trembling, and your hands were barely supporting you by the time you recovered from your orgasm.

"God, doll face, how pent up were you?" Seonghwa teased as he moved upright and knelt right behind you.

You couldn't even tell him to shut up— you were breathing heavily and focusing on blinking until you could see clearly again. Seonghwa got off the bed momentarily to rifle through your nightstand and grab a condom from the box the two of you had stashed there months ago before returning to his position behind you. He rolled the condom on then teased your cunt with the tip of his cock. He rubbed up and down, occasionally pressing the head through your folds.

"Hwa— Ah! Oh, shit," you were about to yell at him to stop teasing you when he shoved his cock all the way inside you, bottoming out.

"Hmm?" Seonghwa asked with a slight groan. "What was that?"

You bit your lower lip and shook your head before dropping it, the man behind you chuckling at your response. He held your hips and began moving at a fairly steady pace. Every time he thrust into you, you heard him exhale through gritted teeth. The lewd sounds of your wet cunt swallowing Seonghwa's cock filled up the room along with the bedsprings below you, the man starting to speed up.

Seonghwa moved his hands to your waist, and at some point, he pushed the space between your shoulder blades down, making you go from your hands to your knees. He leaned over you and smacked his waist against yours even faster, his breathing erratic as he choked back his groans. You, on the other hand, were just letting yourself go. The new angle drove you to pleasure faster, and at some point, you couldn't take it anymore.

"F-Fuck, I'm cumming!" you whimpered as you pushed your head into your mattress.

You cunt fluttered before completely tightening up, Seonghwa wincing as the tension felt way too fucking good. He pulled out and fingered you fast, making you squirt onto his pants and your duvet. Your cries died down as you completely released, the knot in your stomach completely unraveling. You collapsed onto your bed and sighed blissfully while knowing in the back of your head that Seonghwa wasn't done with you yet because he still had yet to cum as well.

"Damn, now I need to do my laundry," Seonghwa chuckled as he observed his stained pants. "Looks like I'm spending the night."

"Be honest with me— you did that intentionally, right?" you accused him with a playful tone as you turned to face him.

"And what if I did?"

"Hwa, you can just spend the night if you'd like. You don't need to come up with an excuse. Also, you have a lot of clothes here."

Seonghwa had slipped out of his pants and tossed them over the edge of the bed before kneeling between your now open legs. He tugged his wife-beater off and flung it behind him before hovering right above you, his beautiful face nearing yours slowly.

"Is that right, doll?" Seonghwa asked with his signature smile. "Alright, noted."

You smiled back and held the back of his neck to pull him down and kiss you. Seonghwa kissed you sensually as he positioned his cock and slipped it into your wet cunt. You were soaking, and it was easy for him to glide through you, but that didn't change the fact that you were still incredibly tight. So tight, in fact, that Seonghwa could barely hold it together.

It was when you moved your hips upwards into his slightly that caused him to break. He stopped kissing you to fuck you fast and hard, your hands moving to his arms and gripping tightly.

Seonghwa couldn't even get the words out. He groaned loudly as he came, his hot cum filling the rubber yet still warming you up inside. He continued moving in and out of you, his cock twitching as more ropes of cum continued collecting in the condom. With a final sigh, Seonghwa hovered above you again, his boba eyes starry with bliss.

"Seonghwa," you whispered as you brushed his stray locks from his sweaty forehead. "Tell me something."

"What is it, doll?"

"Was that enough for you, or can we..."

Seonghwa chuckled. He placed his thumb on your lower lip and tugged gently. You saw his eyes darken, and you felt his cock— which was still inside you— firm up.

"I can never get enough of you, doll."

YOU knew that Seonghwa sleeping over was a bad idea because he was going to make the two of you late for class. That morning, you woke up to Seonghwa's waist pressing into yours, his insatiability overpowering you.

"Come on, doll face," Seonghwa's morning voice rumbled in your ear as he hugged you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Just one time..."

"Hwa, we have class..." you sighed.

No was not an option at that point because Seonghwa's hands slipped under your shirt and tiptoed up to your breasts, his fingers immediately finding and tugging on your nipples. He pressed gentle kisses along the slope of your neck, his kisses slowly moving to your shoulder.

"Goddammit, fuck you, Park Seonghwa," you groaned when you felt him push his knee between your legs.

That's how the two of you ended up sprinting to campus. You both had class at the same time, but they were different classes, so no one could suspect the relationship between the two of you since you were running to opposite ends of campus.

After your morning class, though, the two of you met up at the cafeteria— you and your friends from the journalism department always ate lunch together, which meant you got to see Seonghwa again.

"Hey, how was your morning?" Seonghwa asked very nonchalantly as he sat down right next to you. 

"A bit of a headache, actually," you answered truthfully.

"Oh? Why is that?"

There was a sly smirk on Seonghwa's face— a smirk that you wanted to wipe off with a slap, but you held yourself back.

"I couldn't get out of bed."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to sleep— Seonghwa, just shut the fuck up and eat your lunch," you said, your voice laced with exasperation as you pushed his face away from you so he would stop asking you “why?”.

You and your friends dug into your lunches, and the table was silent for a grand total of two seconds before one of your friends commented, "You guys are awfully close for people who are just friends..."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on between the two of you?"

Neither you nor Seonghwa changed your expression— the two of you were masters at not getting flustered when people asked you invasive questions at that point.

"As if anything would happen between us," Seonghwa scoffed.

"But you two were clearly flirting—"

"Seonghwa just lives to annoy the shit out of me," you swiftly responded. "You shut up and eat your food, too."

A couple other friends snickered before the conversation steered back to something normal.

And although you and Seonghwa agreed that nothing serious would ever happen between you two, his response to your friend's question bothered you slightly.

His response continued to swirl around in the back of your head as you went through your remaining classes and got to the journalism department floor. You desperately tried to distract yourself by throwing yourself into your homework and work for the club, but it just kept fucking bothering you.

"As if anything would happen between us."

You hated that you were overthinking it. After giving up on trying to focus, you packed up your bag and stood up, only to realize the entire floor was completely deserted; you were so in your own head that you didn't realize how much time had passed. You sighed softly to yourself and began walking towards the exit, only to hear someone rapidly typing.

You walked in the direction of the sound to see Wonbin staring intently at his screen and tapping away. He had his headphones on as well as a pair of blue-light glasses as he practically shoved his face into his computer screen. He was so focused, and at first you found it cute, but when you saw the serious look on his face, your heart skipped a beat.

He looked familiar in a way, but you couldn't quite place it.

Shaking the thought from your head, you decided to quietly approach him. You leaned over his shoulder, and even then, Wonbin had yet to notice you. It was when you asked, "Whatcha workin' on?" did Wonbin respond to you.

"Oh my God, you scared me!" Wonbin exclaimed while nearly leaping out of his chair.

"Sorry," you couldn't help but laugh as you apologized to the startled guy. "So, what're you working on?"

Clearing his throat and moving slightly to the side so that you could get a better look at his screen, Wonbin moved the cursor to show many, many tabs. He explained that he was doing all of the research in the Goddamn world before writing an article for one of his journalism classes. Seeing him talk so passionately about what he was working on made a soft smile spread across your face, and your heart fluttered a bit before a new nagging feeling entered the back of your mind as you suddenly realized why he looked familiar to you.

He reminded you of a younger Seonghwa.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a growling noise— Wonbin's stomach was rumbling. His face went bright red as he covered his stomach and looked away from you.

"Wonbin, when was the last time you ate?" you asked him.

"Uh... I think this morning," he admitted. "I skipped lunch to work on the research."

"Alright, come with me. Let's go get some dinner."

Wonbin scrambled to clean up his station before scurrying after you. The two of you ended up going to the convenience store near campus and grabbing cup ramens. The two of you sat side by side as you ate your ramen in silence and stared out the window.

"I have a question for you," you stated somewhat suddenly, making the poor guy choke on his noodles. "Why did you choose journalism?"

"Honestly... I don't know. I kind of wanted to become a musician, but my parents made me reconsider because it wasn't realistic according to them," Wonbin responded— he was being pretty candid with you, making your heart swell up a tiny bit.

"What do you want to do after college, then?"

"No idea yet... I should figure that out, shouldn't I?"

Wonbin looked at his ramen and sighed softly. You definitely stressed the poor boy out. In attempt to make him feel better, you patted his head and said, "You still have, like, two years to figure it out. Don't stress too hard for now."

"O-Oh! Right! You're, erm, you're right..." Wonbin nearly yelped, his face turning bright red. "I have time..."

The innocent, puppy-dog look on his face made your cuteness aggression kick in for absolutely no reason. You ended up chuckling lightly and ruffling his hair, Wonbin's face only getting redder.

He's so cute.

After the two of you finished eating and making more small talk, you both exited the convenience store.

"Which way are you headed, Wonbin?" you asked.

"That way. You?"

"I'm the opposite direction," you couldn't help but laugh. "Get home safe, okay?"

"W-Wait, I can walk you home—"

"Don't be ridiculous. I live close to here, and you should get home soon, too. I'll see you tomorrow."

Wonbin pressed his lips together and nodded. Again, he looked so damn cute that you just couldn't help yourself. You ruffled his hair again and waved goodbye to him before heading back to your apartment.

So cute.

After that night, you couldn't help but give Wonbin more attention. Maybe it was the fact that he reminded you of Seonghwa that drew you to the younger guy, but regardless, you were definitely showing him a little more attention than the other underclassmen after that.

SEONGHWA was annoyed. You had suddenly grown distant from him, and he didn't know why. You were being pretty passive when he texted you, and honestly, it had been a week since the two of you had hooked up— the max it had ever been was 3, maybe 4, days. Which meant not only was Seonghwa annoyed, but he was also pent up.

His irritation only grew when he saw how close you were getting with the underclassmen, specifically Wonbin. Sure, it was your job as the vice president to make sure everyone could handle the work assigned and get everything in on time, but the president and vice president still had to check in with each other, right?

One day, he snapped. You were sitting next to Wonbin and laughing with him, and he didn't like that at all. Seonghwa wasn't one to get jealous, but you with this kid was driving him insane. He needed to say something to you.

"Any questions?" Seonghwa asked after wrapping up that week's club meeting.

Not a single person raised their hand. Seonghwa nodded before silently dismissing everyone. He kept an eye on you as he saw you quickly grab your bag and try to sneak out of the room. Before you made it to the doors, he grabbed your shoulder and said, "We need to talk, vice president."

He saw you gulp nervously before nodding and heading towards the center of the room. As soon as everyone had left, Seonghwa closed and locked the door.

"What the hell, Y/N? You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" Seonghwa cut the bullshit and got straight to it.

"N-No, I haven't—"

"Don't fucking lie to me. You just tried to sneak out of the room. What the hell is going on?"

You let out a deep breath and met his steely gaze as you responded, "Nothing. Everything's fine. I just have work to do."

"What, with that kid?"

Seonghwa saw your eyebrows furrow, and the frown on your face deepened. He definitely hit a sore spot.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You've been spending more time with that kid lately."

You slammed your bag onto the conference room table and stood a little more confidently, slightly startling Seonghwa. His gaze then hardened before he continued, "You need to stop being so nice to the kid—"

"Kid? He's got a name, Seonghwa, and he's not a kid. Don't make it sound weird," you interrupted.

"You're the one making it weird when you say it like that. Either way, don't be so nice to him."

"Why? Weren't you the one who wanted to give him that column in the first place?"

"Yes, but—"

"So, why shouldn't I help him? He's a freshman, Seonghwa, and he needs some help with this first article."

"Because you need to stop leading him on," the words flew out of Seonghwa's mouth before he could even reflect what he actually meant.

Your face got slightly red, and Seonghwa immediately realized what was going on: you weren't spending time with Wonbin to help him; you were spending time with Wonbin to be with him.

"You like him, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"So what if I do?" you cleared your throat and shot back.

"You shouldn't. It's unprofessional."

You scoffed (and Seonghwa also mentally reprimanded himself for saying something so foolish). "Are you really one to be preaching professionalism, Seonghwa?"

Seonghwa lowered his gaze. You weren't wrong.

"I can do whatever I want, Seonghwa. You're not my boyfriend."

"I—"

"And I'm not leading him on if I'm genuinely interested in him," you interrupted.

"Genuinely interested? Ha! Give me a break," Seonghwa laughed sardonically. "Besides, I may not be your boyfriend, but face it, doll face— You're mine. You've been mine since we met, and you'll continue to be mine."

"Excuse me? I'm not an object for you to fucking own, and the only way I'll ever actually be yours is if you decide to stop acting like this and actually ask me out, you prick."

Seonghwa was at a loss for words. He was getting really heated, and his jealousy was surging forward, because he didn't mean half of the things coming out of his huge fucking mouth; but, he couldn't stop himself. He was so pissed.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me, then? You're mad that I'm not asking you to be exclusive?"

"You are the one that said "as if anything would happen between us," and I want to stop wasting my time on someone who sees me as nothing more than his personal fuck toy."

"But, Y/N, you knew what you were getting into... We agreed that we wouldn't catch feelings for each other."

You were quiet for a little, then said softly, "Then why are you jealous?"

Seonghwa did not know how to respond to that. He sighed softly before pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes tightly. He was trying to rationalize everything in his head, but he had too many thoughts and emotions flying around. After a moment of silence passed, Seonghwa opened his eyes and gazed at you, his heart beating slightly faster as he saw the sadness in your eyes. He took a small step forward and held his hands out for you to hold, and he was relieved when you did take his hand.

"I'm sorry," he started. "It's... It's complicated. I need some time to think about it... Maybe even talk it through."

"I think I do too," you admitted quietly. "We don't have to talk about it tonight, though."

"That's the thing, though... I— I want to," Seonghwa stuttered. He laced his fingers with yours and held them up before looking into your eyes earnestly and saying, "I really miss you."

"I miss you, too, Hwa."

Hearing you finally say his nickname instead of his full name made the man feel so much better. He could help but smile in relief. The smile on his face faltered when you took your hands back, but it returned when you hugged him. He hugged you as well and kissed your temple while comforting you by rubbing your back.

"Would you like to come over to my place tonight to talk things through? Please?" Seonghwa whispered.

"...I'd like that."

WONBIN was a little upset if he was being honest. He knew that you were helping him with the column since it was his first time working on something so big, so when you stopped helping him, he was disappointed.

The more time you spent with him, the bigger his crush on you grew. He honestly thought that maybe you might've shared the same feelings, but after he completed his first column, his number of interactions with you had died down. At least you were still talking to him even if it was not as frequently.

That being said, after spending so much time with you, Wonbin couldn't help but pay even more attention to you. He wasn't stalking you or anything, but any time you were within his general vicinity, his eyes were drawn towards you. You were even more beautiful, even more charming, even more charismatic to him. Dare he say it, if he wasn't careful, he would fall in love with you.

He noticed these things, but he also noticed that you were kind of sticking close to Seonghwa's side. He wondered if you were dating the guy because there was just something about the way the two of you interacted that made him question exactly how close you were with the president. Like, at some point, it didn't look like a vice president and a president talking, nor did it seem like two really good friends talking, but rather like two people who clearly had feelings for each other.

"Don't forget," Seonghwa announced at the end of that week's meeting. "We have the social tonight. Everyone better show up!"

Laughter and chatter rippled through the club, and soon after, everyone left the room. Wonbin took a little more time leaving the room and saw you approach Seonghwa with some files. You were standing awfully close to him, and Wonbin definitely noticed the way Seonghwa's facial features softened when you spoke to him. He feared that his suspicions were true when he saw the two of you laugh and chat happily, so he quickly left the room before he had to see more of it.

Unfortunately, he was going to see more of it that night at the social. He was dreading the social, actually. At first, he was excited because it was a chance to spend time with you, but after what happened earlier that day, he had very mixed feelings about it. Those feelings became significantly less mixed when he found himself surrounded by all of the girls in the journalism department.

"You're so cute, Wonbin," one girl commented as she touched his arm for more than three seconds. "Your girlfriend must be very happy to be with you."

Shit.

He forgot that he told people that he had a girlfriend. Yet, even though this girl next to him knew that he "had a girlfriend," she was still hitting on him. Seriously, what was wrong with this girl?

"Yeah, she is," Wonbin responded with a pleasant smile as he brushed the girl's hand off his arm.

"Are you happy to be with her, though?" another girl pressed herself right up against Wonbin's shoulder.

"Yeah, I am," Wonbin kept his pleasant smile plastered to his face while he moved away from the girl.

The girls continued to talk to him and harass him, and every girl tried to get him to drink, but there was no way in hell that he would drink anything these girls gave him out of fear for his own safety.

For once, Wonbin was actually super grateful to see Seonghwa walk in, because the second he did, all the girls turned their attention to him, allowing Wonbin to sneak away from the girls and sit elsewhere. He sat down near some male upperclassmen and let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God..." he muttered to himself.

"Oh no! Pretty girls love me and won't leave me alone!" one of the upperclassmen said with heavy sarcasm. "You don't realize how lucky you are, you lucky bastard."

"You know most of those girls are psycho, though, right?" Wonbin explained. "Some of them followed me home the other day..."

"Okay, well, when you put it like that..."

The upperclassman, now feeling horrible for the poor freshman, poured Wonbin a shot then clinked his glass with Wonbin's before they both took their shots. Wonbin wasn't exactly a lightweight, but the second the shot went down, he realized that maybe that was enough for the night; and that realization only doubled down when felt his face get hot and his body sway.

The upperclassmen were all talking— and they weren't leaving Wonbin out— but Wonbin was only able to get out small statements and words here and there. He was definitely not drunk, and he was barely tipsy, but the only reason he was so out of it was because he couldn't help but stare at you. Seonghwa ended up sitting right next to you when he got to the restaurant, so Wonbin watched with slight envy as you laughed (cutely, in Wonbin's humble opinion) at something Seonghwa said.

"Hey," Wonbin suddenly interrupted the upperclassmen's conversation about God knows what. "I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Is there something going on between Y/N and Seonghwa?"

"Oh, I actually know the answer to this one!" one of the upperclassmen at the table spoke. "I asked them the other day, and they both got mad at me, so I know this for a fact."

"Jesus, you're just as wordy as your fucking articles," another upperclassman slapped the first guy's shoulder. "Spit it out."

"Well, Seonghwa said, "As if anything would happen between us," and then Y/N said that Seonghwa lives to annoy the shit out of her, so there's really nothing there."

"Huh..." Wonbin mused out loud.

"Plus, Seonghwa's graduating this year, and Y/N's going to be president when he leaves, so most of the time they spend together now is just him prepping her. The last president did the same thing with Seonghwa," the guy continued.

"Also," another added. "If the president and the vice president didn't spend time together, I'd be concerned for the future of the department."

"True..."

"Wait, kid, why are you asking?"

"Oh, I just thought they seemed really close," Wonbin did his damn best to make sure he didn't stutter.

Most of the upperclassmen at the table accepted his response and turned to talk to each other, but the one Wonbin shared a drink with side-eyed him. He leaned towards Wonbin and whispered, "You like Y/N, don't you?"

Wonbin blushed furiously. His face betrayed him, but he still responded, "No!"

"Don't worry, kid. All of us have had some sort of crush on her at some point. She's just that charming— but it's never going to happen, so keep dreaming."

With that and a pat on his shoulder, the upperclassman turned to his peers, leaving Wonbin with his own thoughts. He ended up taking another shot by himself and nursed a beer while he tuned into the conversation at the table.

The normalcy lasted a grand total of five minutes before the girls who were harassing Wonbin earlier joined his new table. The upperclassmen tried to talk to the girls, but they kept expressing interest in a very exasperated Wonbin to the point where he was feeling claustrophobic. With a stroke of brilliance, Wonbin got out of his situation by excusing himself to "go to the bathroom," but instead of going to the bathroom, he went outside for some air.

Wonbin sighed deeply as he stood by the side of the establishment, his body beginning to relax as he focused on the dark sky above.

"Geez, that was a deep sigh."

His body immediately tensed again as he flinched when he heard your voice. You stood alongside him and waved at him while saying, "Hi, Wonbin."

"O-Oh my gosh," Wonbin managed to choke out a response while holding his heart. "Uh, hi..."

You giggled at his reaction, sending Wonbin's heart on another sprint. He felt his face get red hot again when he realized how close you were standing to him.

"You look a little tipsy," you commented when you saw his face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Wonbin said after clearing his throat. "I just needed to come out for air."

"Are you sure? Your face looks a little too flushed right now."

You gestured for him to get closer to you, which obviously, he did. You pressed your palm to his forehead, making Wonbin freak out internally even more. Even after all the hair ruffles, his heart still wasn't used to you making physical contact with him so casually. 

"You're so warm," you whispered.

"I d-don't have a fever..."

"I know you don't."

It was when you cupped his face and smiled softly at him did Wonbin realize that you were a little tipsy too, just like him. He truly froze when you brushed your thumbs along his cheekbones, his heart thudding wildly against his chest.

"You're so cute, Wonbin," you told him, making his already deep blush get way worse.

"T-Thank you... You're really pretty too—!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Wonbin covered his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He was so surprised that he was being bold and honest with you because he really wasn't one to be like that sober. He was even more surprised when you giggled at his reaction.

"You're adorable, Wonbin."

Wonbin truly had no idea how his heart didn't just burst out of his chest when you kissed his cheek. Granted, it was the tiniest of pecks, but it was a freaking kiss from you for crying out loud. When the two of you made eye contact, something stirred within him. He had half a mind to surge forward and actually kiss you, but he didn't need to because you pulled his face towards you and kissed him first.

His arms went around your waist, and you held his shoulders as you kissed him over and over again, all the unspoken feelings between the two of you silently coming forward.

The interest was mutual... Thank God.

YOU held Wonbin's hand as you entered your apartment, your fingers laced with his. Neither of you had uttered a word about what just happened, but there was a silent understanding at least, and that's all you really needed for now.

When you got to the living room, you let go of his hand and sat down on the couch, Wonbin sitting right next to you. You felt your heart racing so fast that it was ready to take off for the moon when you saw the way he was looking at you.

"I, um... Can—" Wonbin cleared his throat and swallowed nervously. "Can I kiss you?"

Moments ago, he was kissing you as if the world would end if he stopped, and now he was sitting on your couch asking for permission? God, he was so fucking cute. You nodded and scooted the tiniest bit closer to him. Wonbin let out a tiny sigh of relief, a brief smile crossing his face as he cupped your face gently.

This time, the kiss was more sensual and passionate. It was only one, sweet kiss at first, followed by several more, the intensity of the kisses steadily raising as your emotions surged to the surface. There was a hint of urgency and intense desire emanating from him as he leaned into you, pushing you down so that you were laying on the couch.

Wonbin straddled you and sat upright to remove his shirt, his toned body glistening with a light layer of sweat. You were a little in awe as you observed the way he ran his fingers through his hair, his muscles getting more defined as he leaned back. You were staring so intently, in fact, that Wonbin subtly tried to cover his body.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"You're gorgeous, Wonbin."

The compliment made his face turn bright red. It seemed like he was getting shyer by the second, but you changed your opinion when he assumed a more dominant position. He trapped you on the couch and hovered above you, the twinkle in his eye slowly getting replaced by lust.

"I could say the same to you," he whispered.

He kissed you passionately, his hair tickling your cheeks the more he moved into you. His hand snuck under your shirt, and he trailed his fingernails up your torso until he held your ribs gently. You arched your back and pushed yourself towards him as you got slightly impatient; yet, his slow pace was turning you on even more.

Wonbin sat up again and helped you out of your shirt, and to save a little time, you unhooked and removed your own bra. Wonbin slightly gasped when got to see your bare body. He bit his lower lip and lowered himself again, his lips meeting yours, his chest slightly rubbing against yours. You let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands on your breasts. He massaged them as he moved his lips to your cheek. He trailed tender kisses along your cheek, down your neck, along your collarbone, and to your breast.

While he sucked and massaged your breasts, you couldn't help but think about how skilled he was— this definitely wasn't his first time, which made you a little more excited if you were being completely honest.

A soft moan left your lungs when you felt him press his knee in between your legs. He looked up at you with mild surprise. You maintained eye contact as you let out soft breaths in unison.

"I, um," you whispered. "I don't think I can wait any longer, Wonbin... I need you."

A dusty rose blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. He merely nodded and got off the couch. You sat up and were about to get off as well, only for Wonbin to outstretch his arms. Next thing you knew, he was carrying you to your bedroom, his hands supporting your legs and back while you hugged him.

Wonbin laid you down on the bed, and the second he did, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them along with your underwear off your waist. He pushed your legs up, his hands under your thighs, giving him a better view of your quivering pussy. You heard him sigh quietly but happily before leaving the smallest of kisses on your clit. He then ran his tongue up and down your folds slowly, his tongue teasing you every so often by pushing into your entrance. You bit your lower lip to keep from moaning and ran your fingers through Wonbin's hair as he spent more time between your legs.

"Oh, mmm, yes," you moaned blissfully. "Right there— Ngh— Yes..."

Your toes curled when Wonbin's nose brushed against your clit. You were slightly disappointed when he moved away from your cunt, but that disappointment quickly disappeared when he pushed two of his slender fingers into you. He fingered you at a slow, steady pace while moving closer to you. He planted his hand right above your shoulder and lowered himself so that your faces were mere centimeters apart.

"You're very sweet, Y/N," he whispered, sending tingles down your spine. "Would you like a taste?"

The words were sweet, but the context was so dirty that you felt your face heat up. You nodded, and Wonbin pressed his lips against yours briefly before lifting his head to see your reaction. Seconds later, he kissed you again, and he kept his lips locked with yours as he moved and curled his fingers inside you.

Just as you felt the tension building inside you, Wonbin added a third finger. He fingered you a little faster, making you whine and moan into his mouth.

"You like that, baby?"

Baby. Oh, fuck.

You gasped and pushed your head backwards into the mattress, your eyes fluttering as pleasure ran through you quickly like electricity. You bit your lower lip to keep from moaning loudly as you came, your cunt relaxing completely after you squirted all over Wonbin's hand and your bed.

You blinked tears and stars from your eyes when Wonbin moved away from you. It was when you saw him lick his fingers did you manage to clear the fog in your vision, your heart thudding wildly upon the sight of him tasting you like that.

"I told you— You taste so sweet," Wonbin chuckled, making your face get even hotter.

You made empty noises— you truly did not know how to respond to him because you were so shocked; what the hell happened to the shy, cute Wonbin you knew, and who was this Wonbin before you (not that you were complaining).

Wonbin started patting his pockets down, and you assumed he was in search of a condom. You reached for the handle on your nightstand and opened the drawer, Wonbin immediately spotting the condoms. He grabbed one, and before he tore it open, he paused and stared at it.

"Is something wrong?" you asked him.

"Huh? No," Wonbin shook his head. "It's nothing."

You knew that it definitely wasn't nothing, but you didn't even ponder the idea for long. Wonbin slipped out of his pants and revealed his hard on. His cock was so slender and pretty just like him, and honestly, your mouth started salivating upon seeing it.

How nice would it be if you could suck him off?

Wonbin wasted no time getting on the bed after rolling the condom on and pinning you down again. He moved so that he was between your legs, his cock brushing against your clit with a fleeting touch, making your body tingle. You bit your lower lip when he intentionally rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds, and you stifled your moan when you felt him enter you slowly. Wonbin, who was holding his breath as he pushed his cock into you, let out a tiny grunt when he was entirely inside you.

"You're so tight," Wonbin said with a slight laugh. "Fuck, you just feel so good, baby..."

Before you could even think about responding, Wonbin kissed you again. He moved his hands to your waist, and his fingers pressed into your skin as he rolled his hips into yours slowly, sensually. You heard his breathing hitch in between kisses every time his waist met yours. You could feel his cock throb inside you, and you could tell he was really trying his best to not cum.

You decided to tease him. You combed your fingers through his hair and rested your hands on the back of his neck, your fingers tickling the nape of his neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and you pushed your body upwards as you kissed him so strongly that even you saw stars.

Wonbin couldn't take it any longer. He sat up and tightened his grip on your waist, his hips hitting yours fast and hard. His breathing got shallower, and his soft groans got higher in pitch as he neared his climax. On his final thrust, he pulled your hips up slightly, the change in angle hitting your G-spot and making you cum immediately. You whimpered and bit your lower lip as white filled your vision, your hands clenching the bed sheets beneath you. Wonbin groaned softly, his cock twitching and quivering as his cum spurt into the condom.

You sighed and relaxed your body after Wonbin pulled out. He got off the bed and threw out the condom before disappearing from your room, confusing the shit out of you. He returned moments later for water for both you and him, and your heart skipped a beat. He handed you the glass and sat on the bed next to you. He rested his hand on the mattress and looked away from you as he drank his water. His attention quickly snapped to you, however, when you placed your hand on top of his.

"You know, when you called me baby," you told him. "I was really surprised."

"Oh— Do you not like that nickname?" Wonbin turned to face you completely, looking slightly guilty.

"No, I really liked it, actually..."

Wonbin's head snapped up, and a smile blossomed on his face. Your heart skipped yet another beat when he set his water aside to tuck stray hairs behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your ear.

"Alright, baby," he said with a playful tone. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

"Next time?" you questioned. "You mean next round."

Grinning, Wonbin took your water from you and set it aside. He laid you down and brushed his nose along your jawline before pressing his lips against yours softly, sweetly, tenderly.

YOU seriously wondered why the journalism department would hold a social on a weeknight. The next morning after you both woke up, Wonbin hurriedly left your place so he could go home and freshen up before heading for his first class— luckily his class was in the afternoon. You, on the other hand, scrambled to get your shit together in time for your morning class.

Truth be told, you couldn't stop thinking about Wonbin all day. You loved how tender and sweet he was with you. Sex with Seonghwa was fun for sure, but you definitely did want a more emotional connection with the person you were sleeping with.

You and Seonghwa agreed that you'd talk about your relationship, and after you did, technically nothing fucking changed. You were still friends, and you still fucked, it was just now he was a little more considerate of your feelings. You didn't feel like a sex toy anymore, but that obviously wasn't enough, though.

A smile lingered on your face as you went to the journalism department later that day to finish up some work done for the club. It was the end of the day, and there wasn't a soul on the floor— not a single soul except for Seonghwa, that is, and you fully ran into him the second you turned the corner.

Seonghwa didn't even give you the time to apologize for running into him. He immediately grabbed your arm and pulled you into the records room. Pinning you against the door, he stared right into your eyes, his gaze so sharp that it made you nervous as hell.

"You slept with Wonbin, didn't you?"

Your blood ran cold— you shouldn't have felt guilty, but it was the tone of Seonghwa's voice that made you feel bad.

"I don't know what you mean—"

Seonghwa cut you off by grabbing your face with one hand, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he pulled your face towards his.

"Spare me the runaround and just tell me the truth," he bit out. "You and I were supposed to meet after the social, but you and Wonbin disappeared. You slept with him, right?"

"...What if I did?"

"What the fuck, Y/N?!"

Seonghwa let go of you and walked away from you while running shaky fingers through his hair. He looked so frustrated, and you, again, felt guilty for no reason.

"I don't see what your fucking problem is, Seonghwa! We're still nothing but friends with benefits, so you really shouldn't care," you couldn't help but snap at him.

He whipped his head towards you, and you could see the exasperation on his face.

"Well, I do fucking care!"

"Because you want ownership over me, or because you like me?"

Seonghwa pressed his lips together. He couldn't find an answer. You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Face it, Seonghwa. You don't want to share me with anyone, but you don't get to make that choice because I'm not committed to you. Got it?"

On that note, you tried to leave, but Seonghwa was faster. He slammed the door shut with one hand, pinning you against the door yet again. His eyes searched yours as the two of you remained silent for a beat.

"Didn't we talk things through? Did that night mean nothing to you, then?" Seonghwa asked with slight accusation laced in his words.

"Talked things through?" you repeated, dumbfounded. "We're still just friends because you haven't made things official between us!"

"I thought we still didn't want to tell people about us, so I didn't say anything!"

"Telling people about us versus you actually telling me to my face that you want me to be your girlfriend, that you want us to be exclusive, are two separate things, Seonghwa!"

"I thought you knew that we were!"

"How could we be exclusive if neither of us said it out loud?!"

The two of you were trembling angrily at that point. Seonghwa still had you pinned against the door, and it seemed like he refused to budge. Silence filled the space between you, and you were the one to break it.

"Why are you doing this, Seonghwa?" you whispered. "What do you want?"

"I... I don't know," Seonghwa choked out. "Can we even be exclusive at this point?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have feelings for him, don't you? I mean, you wouldn't have fucked him if you didn't..."

"I can have feelings for more than one person, you know," you responded softly.

You held Seonghwa's gaze, your heart rate picking up speed the longer you stared at him. His eyes searched yours, his mouth slightly open as he searched for some words, any words.

"Then again," you decided to provoke him. "You're the one who told me not to catch feelings for you, so maybe I should—"

Seonghwa snapped. He held your throat, his fingers pressing with just the right amount of tension, and he kissed you roughly. He pushed you further into the door if at all possible, his other hand moving to your ass. Lust coursed through your body as you let yourself get swept away by him. You held his arms and kissed him back while gasping every so often.

Letting go of your throat, Seonghwa wrapped both arms around your waist and quickly moved you to one of the tables in the records room. He bent you over the table, your chest pressing into the wood. You yelped in surprise when Seonghwa quickly pulled your bottoms and panties down, leaving your ass and legs exposed. He chuckled and spread your folds, your cunt glistening with slick.

"Look at how wet you are for me," Seonghwa teased you as he pushed his thumbs slightly into your entrance. "I'm telling you, doll, you were made for me."

Seonghwa licked a stripe up your cunt, making you whimper. Suddenly, you covered your mouth as you realized there were probably cameras in the fucking room.

"S-Seonghwa, the cameras!" you hissed nervously.

"There are no cameras in the records room," Seonghwa said matter-of-factly. "You should know that by now. Looks like I need to teach you more lessons, huh?"

You gulped nervously— lessons didn't just mean education when it came to Seonghwa. You tried to push yourself up when you heard him rifling through his pockets in search of a condom, but he immediately pushed you back down, his hand pressing right between your shoulder blades.

"Don't even fucking try, doll face," Seonghwa stated, his voice getting lower. "You're not going anywhere yet."

Seonghwa found the condom and held onto it by biting the corner of the packet. He grabbed both of your arms before holding both your wrists in one hand and behind your back— there was no way you were getting up now.

As Seonghwa pulled his cock out and rolled the condom on, you spotted a pair of eerily familiar headphones on the shelf. You didn't have time to place it, though, because Seonghwa quite literally fucked the thought out of your brain when he swiftly entered you.

"Your pussy is swallowing my cock perfectly, doll," Seonghwa said as he bit back a grunt. Then, chuckling slightly, he continued "You're so tight... Fuck, you feel amazing..."

Your wrists were still firmly in Seonghwa's grasp, and he tugged your arms back slightly, forcing you to arch your back. He was moving at a relatively slow pace, but every time he snapped his hips into yours, your hips hit the table with an insane amount of force, making you cry with slight pain.

Just as you were about to tell Seonghwa that he was hurting you, you heard the door to the records room open. You and Seonghwa were in a blind spot from the entrance, so you had time to quickly separate, but Seonghwa refused to let you go. He covered your mouth with his free hand and shushed you.

The footsteps approached the two of you, and you were about to burst into tears because you were fucking mortified by the situation you were in. You didn't cry when the person turned the corner, but you did feel all the color drain from your face.

"I'm guessing you're here to grab your headphones, Wonbin?" Seonghwa greeted the boy so nonchalantly, acting as if his cock wasn't buried deep inside you.

"I— Oh— Um— Jesus, I—" Wonbin stuttered; he had no idea how to respond to the situation, and you didn't blame him because you had no fucking clue either.

"You look so surprised, Wonbin," Seonghwa laughed. "Is it because we're fucking in the records room, or because I'm the one fucking her?"

You desperately wanted to tell Seonghwa to shut the fuck up, but his hand was firmly planted on your face.

"I'm... I, uh," Wonbin chewed on his lower lip nervously. "I'll pretend I didn't see anything— I just want my headphones..."

"Aw, don't be like that. You should join us. It shouldn't be that weird since you've already slept with her once, right?"

You really wanted to pass away in that moment. You watched the tips of Wonbin's ears turn crimson red. Seonghwa finally uncovered your mouth and pulled out, but he kept you pinned down to the table as he gestured for Wonbin to approach.

"Seonghwa, what the fuck—"

"What?" Seonghwa interrupted you. "You said you can have feelings for more than one person, right? So why can't you be fucked by more than one person? Besides, I want to see for myself why you're so attracted to him."

You let out empty noises in response because how the fuck were you supposed to respond to something like that?

"What do you think, Wonbin? Wanna join in?"

The boy nodded slowly, surprising the shit out of you. You were about to tell him that he doesn't— that he shouldn't— when you saw the tent forming in his pants; and, as all men do, Wonbin was definitely thinking with his dick, and his dick wanted in.

"Great. Hop on the table for me, will ya?"

Wonbin hopped up on the table and tentatively pulled his cock out as Seonghwa instructed. Your mouth involuntarily watered— his cock was just so pretty, especially when it was hard and twitching.

Seonghwa didn't even need to tell you what to do; you did it yourself. You held the base of his cock, Wonbin flinching upon feeling your touch. You looked up at Wonbin, silently asking for approval, and waited for him to nod meekly before taking him into your mouth.

The second your lips went down his cock, Wonbin let out a soft moan. You looked up at him to see his eyes widen, his face getting redder by the development of the situation. To keep himself from moaning out loud again, Wonbin bit his knuckle and sighed deeply, only for his breathing to hitch when you started sucking him properly.

Upon seeing your head bob up and down, Seonghwa rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds and pushed himself back into you, making you moan and gag on Wonbin's cock. Wonbin's entire body jolted when he heard the noise from you. He let out a soft groan when you took all of him into your mouth, making him bite down on his knuckle harder.

You could hear Wonbin's breathing get heavier and whatever moans or groans that slipped past his finger get higher. You looked up to see his eyelids fluttering as he neared his orgasm. It was you hollowing out your cheeks that did it for him. With his free hand, he held your head in place before squeezing his eyes shut and cumming in your mouth.

"Be a good girl and swallow it," Seonghwa leaned over you and whispered in your ear. "We don't want to leave a mess here, now do we?"

And so, you swallowed Wonbin's cum. He covered his face in embarrassment, so you hit him with, "Now we're even."

He opened his mouth, presumably to ask what you were talking about, only for the realization to hit— he licked his fingers last night. Yep, you were even.

After hopping off the table, Seonghwa tossed a condom packet to Wonbin. He didn't have to say a single word for the younger man to know what to do. He ripped open the packet and put it on while Seonghwa moved you so that you were standing upright, his cock still inside you.

You were sandwiched between the beautiful men when Wonbin approached you. He lifted your leg and held your thigh to give him better access to your already full cunt while you held onto his shoulders. Before you could express any thoughts, he kissed you. Even though he distracted you, you still felt his cock push into you, and your hold on his shoulders got stronger. Both men stopped moving, allowing you to get somewhat comfortable with both cocks stuffed inside you and filling you up. Yet, the second they started moving, your cunt clenched, both of them flinching with the added pressure.

"Oh my God," Wonbin breathed out.

"Shit, I almost came," Seonghwa murmured.

They moved slowly, and to keep you relaxed before you snapped their dicks off, Wonbin kissed you. He rubbed your ear slowly, making every little movement so much more sensual. Whenever he bucked his hips up, he grunted slightly into the kiss.

Seonghwa decided to push his hands up your shirt as he fucked you from behind, and they went under your bra before massaging your breasts. You exhaled blissfully when his fingers toyed with your nipples, the overstimulation starting to get to you.

"Hey, don't just focus on him," Seonghwa said as he pressed a kiss on the back of your neck.

You broke off your chain of kisses with Wonbin and turned your head towards Seonghwa. You moved your hand to Seonghwa's head, your fingers getting tangled in his locks as you kissed him while you moved your other hand from Wonbin's shoulder to his neck.

When Wonbin's grip on your thigh got tighter, you knew that he was close again, so you turned back towards him and kissed him again, his gyrations getting faster.

"I'm— Fuck— I'm gonna cum," Wonbin uttered.

Before you got the chance to say anything, Seonghwa turned your head towards him and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his own thrusts got rougher. He didn't need to say anything, either— you knew he was close, too.

Both men snapped their waists into you, driving their cocks as far as they could into you, the two of them groaning and muttering profanities as their cocks throbbed inside you. They both remained motionless for a beat before Seonghwa pulled out first, Wonbin shortly thereafter. You whined slightly; now that you were no longer stuffed, you felt empty, and you needed them back inside you. Plus, they had yet to make you cum.

You for sure thought they were going to replace their condoms or at least eat you out, so you were completely dumbfounded when you saw them straightening out their clothes and fixing their hair.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?" you irritatedly asked.

"...Getting dressed?" they both answered at the same time, making them both look at each other with slight surprise.

"We're not done here! What about me?"

Both men froze and blinked at you for a split moment before Wonbin approached you from one side and Seonghwa stood right in front of you.

"You're right, we do have unfinished business," Seonghwa murmured in agreement. "What do you think we should do, Wonbin?"

"Let's go back to her place and pick up where we left off," Wonbin suggested before pressing a kiss against your temple. "After all, there's a whole box of condoms left in that drawer.

Oh shit— What the hell have you done?

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[books-and-catears]

(afab! MC)

Barbatos: MC...could you spare some time? There's a rather urgent situation at hand.

MC: Of course. When do we not have urgent situations at hand?

Barbatos: This one seems to be related to you specifically.

Child: Momma! *runs and hugs MC's legs*

MC: ...What?

Barbatos: That...is in fact the urgent situation at hand. That child wandered through my time portal. I assume they're from the future.

Child: I am! Future momma gave me permission to come see you!

MC: *notices the physical similarities and holds them up gently in their arms* I see... well you're adorable. I'm really glad to meet you.

Simeon: This is a rather wholesome situation.

Levi: Did I die and get reincarnated into a slice of life anime with MC as the protagonist?!

Belphie: A child that looks no older than 10 successfully time travelled to the correct time and place?

Satan: Indeed. The child seems to have inherited MC's strong magic.

Lucifer: Exactly, we could expect nothing less from MC after all. Their child is as exceptional as them.

Asmo: And just as adorable too! MC, look this way I need to click pictures!

Beel: Is the little one hungry? We should get some food for it.

Diavolo: This is rather wonderful! Yet it feels like a calm before the storm...

Luke: The child is so cute, I wonder who the father is.

Mammon: *blushes*

Mammon: It- It has to be the Great Mammon. That kid has white hair like me.

MC: *chuckles* Say, little one, is your father here in this room?

Child: *looks around and frowns* No he isn't.

Solomon: Hey everyone! Sorry I'm late, I heard there was an emergency-

Child: Papa! *points to Solomon*

Solomon: ...

Mammon: WHAT?!

Solomon: Okay I'm definitely missing some much needed context...

Solomon: But the sight of a child that looks incredibly like MC calling me Papa has delightful implications.

[asidian]

I've seen a lot of talk about how hell affected Edwin's pain tolerance, but not very much breaking down how it seems to have affected the way he manages emotion. So to that end, here we go:

Edwin Payne vs emotions (and how his no good very bad helltime messed with him something awful)

Dead Boy Detectives does a very good job early on of establishing the fact that Edwin is not particularly good with people. He's stilted, he's repressed, and though he can be incredibly kind to the people he cares about, he can also be quite abrasive, particularly to those he doesn't know well.

Time and time again, we see Charles step in to be the face man. Charles is the one to greet the clients, to take note of their names, to set them at ease. Charles is the one to support Crystal emotionally, and his interactions with Edwin seem to imply that he's done the same for Edwin, over the years. Charles has to remind Edwin to mind his bedside manner, and he explains to Crystal that Edwin forgets how to talk to people sometimes, because of how long he spent in hell.

In short, these boys compensate for each other's strengths and weaknesses in a lot of ways, and Charles is very much the one doing the emotional heavy lifting in this partnership.

And there's a reason for that, laid out in the text and subtext all throughout the show, and the narrative handles it brilliantly.

Edwin's actor does a fantastic job in expressing the character's reactions – or rather, lack of them. Because in the most shocking scenes throughout the show, Edwin often doesn't seem as horrified as the others in the face of events that ought to be horrific. In the Devlin house, he seems as though the murders scarcely affect him. When the jumper at the top of the lighthouse throws herself down, he's downright composed in comparison to everyone else.

And Edwin repeatedly shows or expresses that emotion makes him uncomfortable. When Crystal and Charles are fighting in episode five, he requests that they set their feelings aside until the case is finished. At the end of the episode, he says that the day has been entirely too full of emotions for his taste.

So, what is it specifically about emotion that bothers him so much?

In hell, emotion meant an awful, bloody death.

Panicking over potential incoming horrors? Nope, sorry, too loud. Dead again. Having a sobbing breakdown in a corner? Nope, sorry, too loud. Injured and trying to keep it down so it doesn't get worse? Nope, sorry, that's too loud, too.

Again and again, we see Edwin trying to tamp down on his emotions, but also, tellingly, trying to keep his emotions subdued and quiet.

When Charles finds him in hell, he's crying without making a single sound. When Esther starts to torture him in episode eight, he doesn't scream at first. He's trained himself out of making noise when something hurts or frightens him.

Of course he wants to set emotions aside until the case is done. He's spent seventy years learning what happens if you don't. You take care of business first. If, and only if, there's an after? That's when you let yourself feel.

Early on, when Edwin and Charles need to find the correct book but Edwin is unable to access their office due to the Cat King's bracelet, Edwin is upset. He's frustrated and out of sorts, blocked from making progress on the thing he knows he needs to be doing – hurting himself trying to get his arm through the mirror until Charles stops him. It's Charles who has to step in and help him calm down. It's Charles who has to remind him to breathe through what is very likely a panicked throwback to those times when if he could not solve his way out of a problem, it would very literally get him killed. In this scene, we get a brief glimpse of how Edwin looks when he starts to lose his grip on his rigid control.

And that's before we even get to these things:

Because as awful as the doll spider was, it wasn't the only thing skulking around the Doll House. Charles stumbles across misery wraiths when he goes to rescue Edwin from hell – and we know from the Devlin house episode that Edwin is extremely aware of what they do and how they operate. They were in his space, looking for despair to feed off during a time when he had it in spades.

Taken all together? It's an absolutely heartbreaking picture.

This boy seemed a little socially awkward before his death, from what we see of his time before hell. But afterward? He's had seventy long years of having to teach himself to regulate his own emotions, under pain of excruciating torture if he didn't do it well enough.

With an object lesson like that, over and over again, for literal decades, it's no wonder that Edwin has such a hard time navigating emotions and everything surrounding them.

[deadsetobsessions]

Snart Jr.

Lovely prompt by @stealingyourbones in her long prompts list, in which Danny Phantom meets the Rogues of Central City! This will have multiple parts, I just haven't written them yet.

Disclaimer: I know very little about Captain Cold and Mirror Master despite having watched some of the Flash. The general vibe I get from Flash is that Flash just really cares about his rogues as evidenced by how he talks to them and doesn't immediately one-shot them like I'm pretty sure he could do. And that Captain Cold is a snarky asshole that just wants to steal things and follow his plans as planned? Tbh, the whole mini-arc/episode with him just felt like Snart was trying to coordinate the world's riskiest group project. He was so done by the end lmao

"Huh. That's new."

Danny hovered an inch off of the ground, having just been spat out by swirling green portal. He was going to have to get back to the Zone later to hot potato Skulker through a couple of portals in revenge. He had a math exam he had to study for, dammit.

Danny sighed. Might as well see what's happening. The portals rarely lead somewhere boring, and Danny was bored. He floated further in, form going intangible and invisible as he passed through thick but insulated marble walls. See, Jazz? He could totally plan ahead. He's also learning that he could probably rob a bank easily, but Danny would never.

"Never been spat out in a bank before," he hummed, eyes flickering on the numerous forms of cowering people in the lobby. The goons scattered about don't see him, but it would take another ghost to even detect his presence so it was to be expected. He moved further in with little hindrance and soon touched down onto polished floor behind two incredibly suspicious individuals.

"What-cha do-ing?"

The two figures, currently and obviously robbing a bank, whirled around in surprise. Their respective weapons whirred to a start before they stopped, baffled by the meta teen standing there with his white hair waving about and innocent look pasted all over his face.

Leonard Snart knew instinctively that the kid was so full of shit. He'd bet his entire plan on the fact that the kid knew exactly what kind of shit he was stirring. Still, Snart was guilty of a lot of things but direct child-endangerment wasn't ever one of them.

"How'd you get in here, kid?" Mirror Master raised his laser pistol, ready to distract and divert the kid with threats of violence- which Snart glared at him for- or with his hall of mirrors that he'd run to.

Danny shrugged. "I walked. If you guys didn't want me here, you should have guarded the place better."

"They were supposed to," Snart drawled. He cased the kid. Teen. The kid had a weird halo effect, that seemed to draw the eyes to the stylized letter on his hazmat suit. The kid was young. Meta. Non-hostile. "You trying to stop us?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Came from the Ghost Zone so 's really non'a my business. I was just being nosy."

Snart gave a curt nod and nudged Mirror Master back into cracking the security measures.

Mirror Master scoffed. "What the hell is a ghost zone?"

"I mean, it's pretty self explanatory, right? It's a zone where ghosts live. Hence, you know, Ghost Zone." Danny did a little jazz hands (oh, yeah, he was definitely gonna get Jazz to make that joke sooner or later) for emphasis.

Snart paused for the slightest bit before continuing with his task. Did ghosts exist?

"...Did the Flash send you here, kid?"

"I'm not a kid," Danny scowled, walking right up to them. He got enough of that from his own Rogues, thank you. "And what's a Flash?"

"The Flash, kid." Mirror Master corrected, shoving monitors and PC's and expensive looking office chairs into... a mirror dimension? Danny shrugged and rolled with it.

"Who's that? Your boss?"

"Local superhero, not our boss. You're not from here," Snart quickly deduced as a small smile wormed onto his face from successfully cracking the security without setting off an alarm. They'd have ten minutes before the system cycles the access codes again and flags the fraudulent ones. That should be enough time.

"Superhero? Are they fast? Actually, where is here?" Danny glanced around at the now bare security office like the Flash would show up.

The guy in green and yellow took everything not nailed down to the ground. Danny respected that, even if he kind of wanted to stop the robbery. But he's not really supposed to interfere. That would be uber rude, since it looked like the guy in the fur jacket seemed like he had planned everything precisely.

"You're in Central City, kid. Did you take a wrong turn trying to get to Keystone or something?" Green-yellow guy snorted.

"Gonna be real honest with you, I've got no idea where that is. What state are we in?" Danny followed as the pair rushed to the safe doors. He could offer to phase them through but no matter how flexible Danny's morals have become over the years, he was going to draw a line at actively helping a person commit crime.

"Kansas. Do you teleport? Are you a teleporting meta?" Snart asked, eyes intense as he both glared at Danny and pressed an ear to the safe door.

"Nah, I wish I could teleport. Getting to school would be so much faster. Kansas? Huh, I've never been."

"How lost are you, kid?" Mirror Master incredulously paused from robbing the packages that were delivered to the bank.

Danny shrugged. "Oh, I'm Danny. Who are you guys?"

"Captain Cold. That's Mirror Master."

Danny shifted as the safe clicks open. "So, uh, are you guys the villains here?"

Captain Cold shot him a weird look. "We're actively robbing a bank, kid. That should be obvious."

"Also, you're acting real calm for a kid speaking to two of Fawcett's best super-villains." Mirror Master chimed in, laser-ing off locks on deposit boxes and shoving cash and stuff into his mirror dimension.

Danny padded in after them. "Eh, you haven't shot at me- not even on sight- yet, which is more than I can say for law enforcement, so you're pretty chill in my book."

Captain Cold snorted, pointedly taking his freeze gun and breaking off a large manual lock. "I believe it's my job to be the chill one. Plus, we don't kill. The Flash would be up our... business if we did. It's not worth the trouble."

"You can say ass. I've heard worse."

"Not from me, kid."

Danny hadn't had that kind of consideration from anyone in a long time. Even if it's a bit... mother-hennish, the halfa couldn't find it in him to be annoyed. "Ah, okay. Well, you also haven't kidnapped me or tried to stop me from following you, so..."

Mirror Master shoved a giant painting into his dimension. "You haven't tried to stop us; it'd be weird trying to stop you."

"Makes sense."

"Heh. You're alright, kid. Though... who's kidnapping you?"

"My fruit loop of a godfather. It's a thing," Danny avoided the searching gaze like a pro.

"Hold this." Captain Cold said suddenly, giving Danny a massive dufflebag.

"Wait, what?"

Captain Cold began stuffing the bag with cash and once the money in the vicinity (not that much) went in, he said "Go look around. Having another person in here is a risk so you might as well make up for it."

Danny's calling it. Captain Cold was full of shit. The guy's a big softie. Danny smiled sheepishly and agreed. Danny circled the place, pointing out expensive looking stuff- "for fun" and not because they were nice to him- when he felt the tell-tale zaps of an anomaly in Clockwork's domain.

"Move!" He shouted at the two villains, both of whom dove out of the way. Instinctively, Danny threw out his gloved hands and iced the floors, instincts bristling at the incoming danger. His jaw dropped as a blur encountered the ice and went ass over tea kettle onto the floor, unable to stop its own momentum.

"Oh shit!" Danny uttered, eyes wide as the blur slammed into the opposite- reinforced- wall with a pained shout. The stopped person was wearing red, with a lighting bolt motif all over their uniforms. That implied speed. Speed implied "The Flash." Danny knew a hero when he saw one and he just iced him. Shit.

"What-" The Flash groaned. Mirror Master and Captain Cold gaped.

"OhmyancientsI'msosorrygottagobye!" Danny shouted.

"Hey, wait, kid-!" Captain Cold shouted. Danny ignored him, going invisible in a panic and sank into the ground, mortified. After thirty seconds of self-hatred, he zoomed out and away. Danny held his head in his hands as he flew back to where Amity was...

Only to stare down at the empty plots of land where his city was supposed to be. Danny shoved a hand into his chest and pulled out his phone.

[No results for Amity Park. Did you mean "Amity Arkham"?]

"What."

Any research he did after that only turned up a Jasmine Fellona, a budding neurobiologist in her field, and other people that were adjacent to the people Danny knew. But nothing, nothing from Amity Park.

"Oh, yeah, we're definitely not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy."

---

As the Flash stood around to keep an eye on the hand-cuffed villains, he couldn't help but ask.

"So, uh, Snart. Did you... get a kid?"

"What." Snart asked, incredibly done with this shit.

"You know. Snart junior? With the ice and everything?" Flash gestured at the un-melting ice that covered the floor leading into the safe. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're pulling your kid into a life of crime..."

"No."

"Wait, you had a kid and didn't tell me?" Mirror Master asked, mildly offended. "That was your kid? No wonder no one shot at him!"

"He's not my kid." Snart gave Flash the stink-eye. "And don't you have a couple of baby sidekicks running around?"

"C'mon dude, you're so obviously fond of him. It's okay, you don't have to hide it." Flash avoided the topic... in a flash.

"Can someone arrest me right now so these idiots can be removed from my vicinity?" Snart snarked to the approaching officer, jerking his head to point at the beaming Flash.

"You and me both, buddy," Officer West sighed.

---

One trip to the zone and a stressful conversation with Clockwork later, Danny was found in his keep, smacking his ghost head into the ghost wall of his ghost keep. Danny would unleash a Wail if it didn't have the nasty habit of bringing everything around him.

Apparently, he got "Amity'd," a process which meant Amity spat him out like an over chewed dog bone and refused to take him back.

"That doesn't even make sense! I left there a bunch of times! And came back!"

"The city has decided that it was your time to leave, Danny." Clockwork spared a wane smile for the curled up boy-king.

"I have people to protect there! My entire life! My haunt!" Danny yelled, breaths that he didn't technically need coming shorter and shorter. The neon green of the Zone whirled in and out of his vision in a dizzying shudder of anxiety and incoming panic.

"It wasn't your haunt, I'm afraid. The city nurtured you as a young spirit- thus shared her haunt- and has decided that it was time for you to... leave the nest, so to speak."

That stopped Danny's panic in its tracks. "Are you telling me she NightVale-d me? Some kind of involuntary coming-of-age bs?"

If he weren't on the edge of hysterical laughter, Danny would take a moment and proudly say to Mr. Lancer that he had paid attention in class.

"...Yes."

"Fuck." Danny dropped his head down in despair. His head made a loud thunk. The bag of cash he'd accidently made away with sat innocently at his feet. Further proof that it wasn't some nightmare he'd wake up from anytime soon.

---

Danny slumped over the desk, exhausted. Technus had lent him a ghostly hand and hacked into government data bases to re-establish his social security number and all the other dumb bits and bobs that he needed to establish his identity because Amity was an actual ghost town. Ghost to reality, ghost to real life. Ancients, Amity even had their own data network, which he couldn't access outside of Amity itself. This meant that Danny couldn't even call anyone. Ugh.

"I gotta find a place to live," he mumbled to himself. Danny, despite knowing that he needed to do things, did not move for another ten minutes.

Then, as his phone alarm went off, buzzing on the table. Like... Clockwork... Danny sat up straight and wiped all traces of wallowing self pity off his face. The people in the library- students- gave him solemn nods of solidarity. Danny nodded back and left the library.

He wandered around Fawcett City, somewhere Clockwork had recommended he stayed. With Clockwork, recommendations tended to be life-important (plot-important?) orders. Danny liked the place, really. It gave off the weird and settled "what-the-fuck,-Box-Ghost-did-you-have-to-destroy-the-mall?" vibes Amity constantly gave off after the ghosts started coming through. He thought he even saw a talking tiger! Awesome.

"Hey, are you new here?"

Danny looked down. His reflection stared back at him.

Did he have another kid? Did someone clone him again? Ancients curse you, Vlad!

"Uh- yeah."

"Oh. Do you need help getting around? I was born and raised here all my life, so I can totally do that!"

Oh thank the Ancients, this wasn't another Dani. Just a weirdly similar looking kid.

"You know I'm a stranger, right?"

"I don't think anyone helping Nanny Mae pick up her oranges would hurt kids," the kid said archly, but with a grin so like Dani, it made Danny miss his younger sister.

"Okay, you got me there. But still."

The kid sighed. "I know how to be safe, thanks. I'm Billy!"

"Danny. Nice to meet you."

"Okay, Danny, where you off to?"

"I'm actually trying to find a place that'll be cheap to rent." He's sixteen, but Danny could totally pass as eighteen. "I'm thinking about moving to Fawcett. It's nice here, with all the ambient magic and stuff."

This got him a wide-eyed look. "Do you use magic?"

"Something like that."

"Cool."

Danny took in the considering glint in Billy's eyes and decided that it was future!Danny's problem. Present!Danny was currently occupied with trying to stay off the streets. That giant bag of cash he'd accidently absconded with would be helpful and Danny felt kind of bad... but his growling stomach had chased that away quickly.

"This way!"

Danny shrugged his wavering morality off and followed the kid, shouldering his new and stolen duffle bag. If anything happened, he could just go ghost. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this city, Danny made sure to check.

"Have you been by the zoo?" Billy began to rattle off his favorite details about the Fawcett city zoo as he wove around the city.

Danny didn't think he'd actually have to go ghost.

"Not yet, actually. Is it true that there's a talking tiger there?"

"Yeah! Tawky Tawny! He's my friend!"

"Awesome."