#i am so so glad i got to meet such wonderful people during such a rough period in my life

[eupheme]

you writing is so beautiful. the way that logan tries to stop her - how blunt and earnest he is and the worst person for the job (but also best, in his own way) but he's trying, gosh that got me. love the line about logan's tailights being a lighthouse, guiding her back out in all that dark, and then trying to make her promise she won't go back.

and how they bump into each other again, the way he takes time and listens to her each time had my heart aching. the way you write her grief felt so real (I really appreciate how you wrote this fic - my own mental health over the past few years has been rocky and this felt so - gosh, I don't know, relatable? hopeful? wonderful? to read), and the fact that he understands in a way that no one else she knows does - it such a rough connection but you have me feeling glad for each of their encounters.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

Wheezing omg - perfect Wade introduction. And then that she goes back, and I that she hates but I love that he is getting a handle at how she thinks, how he makes her be honest. And gosh when he opens up in return, that fondness he had for Wade, how he's still hurting from before, I was inhaling this.

Loving 'DVDJ' (and the F9/Wade & Logan references omfg) and I so feel for reader and how hard it is to put yourself out there, but what a great group of people for her to surround herself with. And the whiplash with her finding him like that, how it still comes back to him after all the healing he's been trying to do, all of this made my chest ache.

He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one. // “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Ahh this made me want to cry - I love how you dug into his grief in this. How she's able to help him this time, find the words he needs to hear. And ahh I love how you write everyone - Vanessa, Wade, Althea. Logan's chip! I am tearing up again, especially at this part:

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.”

oh!! 🥺💖 and then I love the reveal that the cliff was a space in his world, even with their shared history of it. like they were always meant to meet, the “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.” had me like !!!! - sad and lovely is so right.

“‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

this made me laugh (reference to Hugh's interview right??) omg. and the way you pace things, how they slowly get better and fall into place for her, it makes me so proud, even just as a reader.

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.” // It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

Grinning, oh my god. And how sweet she is with the gift and how Wade wants to take a new photo of his new world - my heart. And then how seeing Vanessa and Wade makes her think about more, when at the beginning that was impossible - weeping.

Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

!!!!! god, what a realization. and how she can't handle it, so real. And how he comes through the rain to check on her, oh my god. That he checked, and how scared he must have been!

“I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.” // His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you.

Oh. And oh my god that perfectly imperfect kiss, the fact he's been wanting to for ages!!!!! I am screaming. “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?” !!!! (the vein appreciation, loved that)

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

eep! 😳💖 the smut was so perfect, so good. I am obsessed with how soft he is for her -

“Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance.

LOGAN 😳 the desperation with how they’re still on her table, how sweet and pleased he is - the “then get it out”, omg he is so filthy. This was amazing (that stomach vein yesssss) just absolutely steamy as hell and so so well-written and I had to keep taking breaks to stare at the wall. Phew! Fucking her against the wall!!!! I love the use of the strength here and yessss a long night indeed!! 👀💖💖

And gosh, the last segment. No words, my heart is tied up in the sweetest of strings and knots. This was really something special. I already want to reread and pick each line apart. This was Logan and this is canon to me and wow I just loved this so much and I hope you are so proud of this fic because you really really should be. I am going to be thinking about this for a long time 💖 (and I would love to hear about the title, is Logan her cardinal?)(like a sign of hope and new beginnings?)

Cardinal

Pairing: Logan Howlett ("Worst" Wolverine) x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (for themes and smut).

Word count: 16.6k

Summary: At the edge of the world, someone from another keeps you from stepping off.

Tags/Warnings (Please, read the warnings!!): Post-Deadpool & Wolverine, female reader (female anatomy etc + 2 mentions of hair long enough to fall into your eyes), strangers-to-lovers, depression, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt and mentions thereof, addiction, drinking alcohol, drugs (mentioned not used), panic attacks, sobriety meetings, anxiety, recovery, co-dependency vibes, sprinkles of soulmateism, explicit smut (oral and unprotected PIV), happy ending (yay!!). If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Notes: Deadpool and Wolverine re-triggered my X-Men obsession and what started as a means to write some smut actually became this idea about two broken people who shouldn't even have met in the first place finding each other. There's a lot of me in this story, more than there's ever been I think. I'm sorry for this glimpse into my head, and I'm sorry if this isn't as Reader-insert as it should be, but... I'm not that sorry, you know. Huge thanks to @javier-pena , for not only reading this over and fixing so many embarrassing mistakes, but also for saying she'd read this even if it was 20k words and always believing in my abilities as a writer, even when I sometimes didn't.

If you want to read the smut as a standalone, you can! Just CTRL + F (or search in page) for 'Logan reaches for' and read away.

THE LOOKOUT

With closed eyes, you inhale the cool, December air, before looking down at your feet. Here, at the edge of the lookout, the grass has been trampled. You imagine friends taking bets on who dares get closest to the edge, lovers making memories, families taking pictures. It’s strangely soothing that maybe you’re not the first to stand here to do this. 

Far below your feet, the water laps at the rocks. The force of it depends on the weather and tonight it’s violent, with big splashes and crashing sounds. The wind tugs at your coat, pulling you towards the water as if to help you along, making you look up again as you hold your balance. In front of you, the line of the horizon is dark but visible – it would have been impossible to make out if the moon hadn’t been as bright as it is.

It’s like you’re looking at the edge of the world.

During the weeks that fall had made way for winter, you scoped the place out a couple times. The first time you stood at this cliff’s edge, the place it took you to mentally scared you so much that you got back into your car and broke down in tears. The next couple times, things became more and more serious, as your life crumbled around you, and your feelings numbed, and nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Something had crept in while you weren’t looking, settling somewhere behind your eyes and spreading out to make a home behind your ribs, slowly but surely changing you. And once you realized it, it was already too late. It had grown large, became jilted and jealous, like it wanted all of you. It pushed away everyone and everything you held dear, until it was just you and that… something.

Especially during the quiet of the night, the lookout became soothing, a strange sense of familiarity enveloping you each time you were here. It was addictive and pretty soon, it became a daily routine to visit. But lately it’s been losing its shine, your feelings here dulling and darkening too. You’re exhausted, fed up, tired of giving it more of you.

Today you want it to be your last time here. 

You’ve had countless hours to contemplate what it would be like, imagined – all but romanticised – how the cold water would paralyse your limbs if the impact wouldn't do the trick. You read somewhere that it’s apparently like falling asleep when the water finally fills your lungs. You’ll be gone, but the thing will be too.

The thought makes your eyes fill with tears, but not from fear. All you feel is relief, like it’s right, how it’s supposed to be. It makes you smile despite everything, and–

“Hey, stop!”

A voice behind you thunders through the silence and makes you shriek into the night, dirt toppling over the edge of the lookout below the shuffle of your foot. A string of curses follows, heavy footfalls behind you indicating that the intruder is approaching you.

“Fuck off!” you throw over your shoulder, your voice a roar with how it’s amplified by the wind. 

After, your throat closes up, fighting the angry tears over the fact that you can’t even fucking kill yourself in peace. Never have you seen anyone here at night, never. What you hate even more is how it breaks your momentum. The haze that was surrounding you is pierced, and your body’s baser instincts kick in. Adrenaline suddenly pumps through your veins, making your legs tremble, your heart hammer, your body scream for you to step back from where you’re standing. Your anger, however, has you nailed to the floor. 

You almost miss the much softer, “Hey,” as a man steps into your peripheral vision. You pretend like you don’t hear him, or see him – you simply pretend he isn’t there, focussing on getting back into your previous mindset. 

But then he takes his hands out of his pockets.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you warn, hating how your voice comes out trembling – weak.

“Easy.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

You stand there together for what feels like hours. You will yourself to not let it affect you, setting your jaw to keep your teeth from clattering on account of the cold, allow the wind to blow your hair into your eyes without brushing it away. Even when it begins to rain, you don’t move, don’t blink even once more than you need to. From the corner of your eye you watch the man shove his hands back in the pockets of the brown leather jacket he’s wearing, and you quietly celebrate that your surroundings are fazing him more than they are you.

“You know–” he begins.

“I’m not really looking for a conversation.”

“Me neither,” he immediately counters, suddenly impatient, “so I’ll get right to it: You planning on jumping? Because if you think the water’s gonna be nice to you, you’ve got that wrong. You’ll end up in there feeling everything, that fall isn’t gonna do shit.”

Having expected a gentle approach, his bluntness and his tone knock the wind out of you. You cock your jaw, the shame creeping up your body the first bit of warmth you’ve felt in a while. Your cold fingers ball to fists as you will yourself not to care. Yes, his words and the way he's shatteríng your expectations with them sting, but you don’t even know this guy–

“And there’s nothing fuckin’ peaceful about it, it’s just panic. Right before you go too far…” He raises a fist and holds it against the center of his chest, “...there’s this burning right here that’s hell.”

“And what makes you such an expert?” you finally spit out.

“Died like that a couple times,” he says without waiting a beat.

The casual statement of something so bizarre beats your resolve before you know it, your head turning in his direction. “‘A couple times’?”

“I, uh…” You watch him hesitate, the moonlight illuminating the tick of his jaw, the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way his chest falls as he sighs, “Let’s just say I can’t die.”

Before you can stop yourself, you snort at that. “That must fucking suck.”

He barks out a laugh, “Got that right.” It startles you when his head suddenly turns to you, when he looks you in the eye for the first time. “But trust me, being down there isn’t much better.”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes you waver. You can’t really place it, or decipher why it makes you want to open up to him. Maybe it’s because you’re freezing and it’s your body betraying you, tricking you into moving so you can generate some warmth, moving your lips to keep them from going blue. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s a stranger and it’s so much easier to be honest when there are no consequences.

“Things just feel so…,” you begin, voice shaky. Every possible way to end the sentence crosses your mind, seemingly all wrong, before you settle on what’s closest to how you feel, “endless.”

To your relief, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tell you to give it time that it will get better, or any of the other bullshit you’ve heard from all the other people that had been in your life and left a long time ago. You do find something else in the shift in his eyes, something you haven’t encountered before.

Understanding.

It might be worse. If anything, it’s overwhelming, making your eyes dart away from his as you sniff. 

The wind still tugs at you, the waves still hit the rocks, but your moment seems to have passed. It’s a sobering conclusion, a twisted version of wrong place, wrong time. Or maybe it was him who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, the outcome is the same.

You take a step back, and another, but it takes considerable effort; you hadn’t taken your numb legs into consideration. You stumble, falling back on the dewy, cold grass, not quick enough to catch yourself on your hands. With a groan, you move to sit upright.

“Shit. Hey, you still with me?” The stranger kneels next to you, fingers lifting your chin to look into your eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking freezing.”

“No s-sh-hit,” you retort.

He sighs, offering you a hand so he can pull you up. “C’mon, let's get you warmed up.”

– – – – –

Logan.

That’s his name. 

It’s how he introduced himself, anyway, after he suggested you follow him. To his credit, he did offer to drive you, but you didn’t want to leave your car in the parking lot of the lookout. Logan waited 15 minutes for you while you put the blowers on the highest, warmest setting and waited for the feeling to return to your limbs. After, his brown truck led the way here – here being some hole in the wall, 24 hour diner. You could have not followed, but the drive was kind of mesmerizing; the night seemed darker than usual, and Logan’s tail lights served as a lighthouse.

Outside, the diner is all Christmas lights and flashing signs, but the interior is like something straight out of Twin Peaks; booths to the left, red barstools to the right, a girl that looks too pretty and too young to be here standing behind the counter. There were two other patrons you spotted along the way as Logan led you to one of the back booths. Once seated, Logan studied the pamphlets–or pretended to, more like, because as soon as the waitress came up he ordered two whiskeys and nothing else.

Between then and now, as you nursed your drink sip by careful sip, you hadn’t learned much more about him other than that he could knock back a glass of whiskey like he got paid to do so. And in truth, you like it this way; preferring silent company, the droning of the machinery behind the counter and the quiet hum of a song on the jukebox next to the entrance. The white noise helps to distract from the white noise in your head. Settling back into the leather cushions of the booth, you let some warmth seep back into your body. Opposite you, Logan does the same. 

Some moments after you finish your drink, one of the waitresses walks up to your booth to ask you about a refill, like she’s asked Logan twice now. You’re handing her the glass when Logan says, “She’s had enough.”

Your head whips from her to him. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t say anything, and from the corner of your eye, you see the girl leave. With your glass. Logan’s is on his lips, his eyes observing you over the rim, looking at you like he– Dammit. You sigh deeply, a sense of anger filling you. You don’t need this, least of all from him. When you stand from the booth, those eyes follow you, making you voice your observations,

“Quit pitying me, Logan.”

“I’m not,” he says before taking another sip. “You still have to drive.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “And you don’t?”

Logan shrugs. “It’s different for me.”

Anger is still prevalent in your voice when you ask, “Well, let me guess, it’s another case of ‘I died like that a couple times’?” 

He hums.

“And how does that work?”

“Regenerative ability,” he sighs. Another sip before he elaborates, “X-Gene.” 

The admission makes you plop back down in your seat. Well, that explains things – he’s a mutant. You’re not familiar with that world, but you know enough to know it meant that. It isn’t like you couldn’t have deduced it before, but truthfully, you kind of thought he was bullshiting you as part of some tactic. Now, his actions and words make more sense: He really knows what it’s like to... That’s why he had that look on his face. Suddenly, you see him in a different light–

“Now who’s pitying who, hmm?” Logan asks, giving you a thin-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sets his glass down on the table.

“I’m not, I’m just… processing. So this...” you lift his glass, swirl the contents around, “...doesn’t even affect you?”

“It does. For a few seconds.” He plucks the glass back from your hand, and throws the whiskey back with one gulp. His pupils dilate, pushing the hazel of his irises out until his eyes are almost black for a second, two… before going back to normal. “But if I chugged the bottle, I’d pass out.”

“Well, so would I,” you say with a chuckle. “So maybe we’re not that different after all.”

Just as the corner of his mouth lifts, your smile falls, because… it isn’t true; you’re very different. You’re pretty sure you don’t have what it takes to do what he did tonight. To care enough to do it. To sit with a stranger and hear them bitch and moan about being denied a drink. A feeling creeps up on you, sticky and uncomfortable, like you’ve overstayed your welcome—burdened him.

“I should head home,” you say, standing again.

Lightning fast, Logan’s hand shoots out to close around your wrist. “That really where you’re going?”

“Yes,” you reply. When you pull your hand back, he doesn’t let up. You fish your car key out of your pocket with your free hand, voice tighter when you say, “Let me go.”

“Just promise me something,” he says, eyes as dark as they’d been earlier, yet his drink has gone untouched since. “Don’t go back there again.”

“Not making promises I can’t keep,” you say, giving him a wry smile. “To strangers, but least of all to myself.”

He sighs, and lets you pull yourself from his hold.

THE CRAVING

New Years comes and goes, and you quickly discover that it was foolish superstition to think that it might change how you feel.

You find yourself in some club, a drink in each hand. You hate to admit it, but Logan’s words scared you out of your original idea and the only time you can bear to think of how to move on from it is when alcohol soothes the embarrassing grief of your shattered, macabre fantasy. It’s not a good way to deal with things, but it works.

There’s a part of you that welcomes feeling anything at all, but that… something inside you is busy trying to squash it. 

It’s getting somewhere, because you have no idea how much you’ve already had to drink, but you’re buzzing pleasantly. Adding to it, you knock both drinks back, slamming the glasses on the bar before spinning around and facing the crowd of dancing bodies. The music sucks, the dance floor is cramped, you’re tired… The truth is that you’re too old for this, but it’s easy to escape here, surrounded by strangers. You clumsily drag the back of your hand over your wet mouth, push your sweaty hair from your eyes, and join them.

The past couple weeks, you found yourself craving something. Contact. And here is where you can get your fill; a hand on your waist, lips on your ear, the music too loud and yourself too drunk to even comprehend what’s being said, but never more. You want them to get close, but never too close.

After some time – could be an hour, could be 10 minutes – you make your way to the bathroom. It’s quieter here, the dulled thump of the music making the time you spend there feel slow and syrupy. 

When you exit the stall, you bump into someone.

It’s a man. The dark hood over his head obscures his eyes, but you can’t help but think he’s looking right at you when a bright, almost unnatural grin appears on his face. It draws you in like a magnet, more so when he says, “Need something to take the edge off?” 

Curiously, you watch as he opens his palm, long fingers unfurling slowly until they reveal a small plastic bag in his hand. 

“First time’s on the house.”

You have no idea what it is exactly, but your eyes widen. This is new territory for you, and all the possibilities it opens up are suddenly invading your mind. As if on auto-pilot, you reach for the place where you keep your money, the sound of the door opening completely lost on you.

A hand closes around your bicep, pulling you aside with a quick yank of an arm.

“She isn’t interested, pal.” 

It’s another man, who effortlessly tucks you half behind him. Before you can protest beyond an indignant huff, there’s a sound, like a sword being unsheathed, and you catch a flash of red, and of knives. Frowning, you try to get a better look, but your view is obscured by the man’s shoulder. The hooded man seems undeterred, regarding the weapons with the same sickening grin, before leaving the bathroom, muttering something that you don’t understand on the way out. The sword sound returns, the man twists around, and–

“Logan?” you slur in disbelief. 

Logan doesn’t reply, instead takes hold of your arm again, making you follow him out of the bathroom. There he stops the two of you to murmur something to a woman wearing the same clothes as him, before tugging you along again. You’re stumbling after him on account of his pace and the iron grip he has on you as he leads you to the back door. He pushes it open with enough force to make the hinges creak, a gust of wind blowing in your face. It’s a contrast to go from the crowded, sweaty club to the silent, cold back-alley where tall brick walls and employee cars cage you in. You shake your arm and Logan’s grip loosens – another and he lets you go.

“How did you even find–” You cut yourself off, eyes widening, “Oh, my god, are you following me?”

Logan scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, please, do you think I have time to follow you around all day?”

“You’re here, aren’t you? You and your fucking…,” you gesture wildly into the air at him, “savior complex.”

“I work here,” he growls. When you give him a look, he adds, “It’s temporary. ‘Sides, me and my savior complex are the reason that creep isn’t selling god knows what to you in that bathroom right now!” His voice is a roar, echoing off the walls around you.

“Maybe I wanted that creep to sell god knows what to me in that bathroom,” you say, doing a poor impression of his voice, before turning and walking away from him.

Logan sighs. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“And then what, huh?”

“I don’t fucking know, Logan,” you say, twisting around to face him again, arms spread out by your side. “Figure out a new way out of this.”

“Yeah? Third time’s the charm?”

“Why do you even care, huh? You don’t even know me,” you say. Almost immediately, you let out a bitter laugh as your own words hit your ears, a sad realization dawning on you. “But I guess that makes two of us.”

It’s not like you expected him to, but he doesn’t answer.

“You know I used to like myself? I used to smile, I used to have friends, I used to be more sober than drunk. But this feeling, it takes… everything.” You raise a fist, hold it to the center of your chest. “It takes everything I love, pushes away everyone I love, including myself. It eats me up, and wants more and more, until I’m something I’m not and until I’m so far away from that version of myself, my old self, that it feels easier to just fucking–” you pause with a wet gasp for air.

“Destroy yourself,” Logan finishes for you.

Your chest heaves, an unshed tear clings to your lash line. “Exactly.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Let me take you home,” he says, voice gentle. 

You should hate the implications of that gentleness, but you don’t. In your drunk state of mind, it’s easier to admit it’s nice that someone understands, that someone’s there to stop you from going too far… 

Tomorrow, when some of your pragmatism returns, you’ll deny this embarrassing thought ever occurred; if relying on other people worked, it would have worked a long time ago, and you wouldn’t be standing here with him. If you’re lucky, you might even forget this entirely, and wake up with a hangover that you’ll enjoy a little too much because it feels like a punishment–

“What about your job?” you ask with a sniff.

Logan’s palm finds the space between your shoulder blades with a gentle push, the warmth of it seeping in through your clothes, and he leads you to his truck. “They’ll manage without me.”

– – – – –

When you wake, your world is tilted sideways, a blanket is pulled up to your chin and there's a pillow under your head. They’re not your own; the blanket is itchy and the pillow’s too small. When you try to move your legs, they stick uncomfortably to the material below them, and you realize you’re on a leather couch. You squint at the light that comes in from a window across from you–

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

The voice startles you, eyes shifting to focus on the source: A man lying on his front on the floor, chin in his hands as he kicks his feet back and forth in the air. 

“Wish I could say it’s a pleasure, but it hasn’t been very pleasurable. You’ve been barfing up the place since the moment you stepped inside. Kept poor Al up all night. Her ears are sensitive,” he adds with a whisper. “But don’t worry, she left about an hour ago.”

“Who are you?” you slur, blinking against the light.

“Logan.” He sighs when you frown. “I know, not how you remember. This is what I look like during the day; blessed with incredible good looks at night and, well,” he gestures at his face that’s covered in scars, "this, during the day. Bit of a reverse Princess Fiona situation–”

“Cut it out, Wade,” comes the sharp protest from next to you. With considerable effort, you turn your head and see the actual Logan, slumped back in a recliner next to the couch, rubbing some sleep out of his eyes while motioning for the other man to go.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Wade winks.

Logan stands when Wade does, walking from your field of view. Your head is scrambling to catch up, trying to piece together what happened last night, but only coming up with bits and pieces.

“How are you feeling?” Logan asks as he makes his way back to you, handing you a glass of water.

You flinch when the front door closes behind Wade with a bang, before taking the glass from Logan and taking a few thankful sips. “Like shit.”

“Yeah,” is all he says as he sits back down.

“What–”

“You fell asleep in the car. Didn’t know where to take you, figured the couch was the safest place.”

“Oh…,” you say, voice small. 

You try not to think about being so wasted that you had to be carried out of Logan’s car, or about what Wade said earlier about the things that happened as soon as you stepped inside the apartment. During your silence, Logan’s fingers fiddle with the armrest, before his hand balls into a fist, and it unlocks something in your hazy memory.

“I have the weirdest memory of you having… a sword?”

You watch as Logan’s lips purse in amusement. His tongue rolls around in his mouth, seemingly contemplating something, before saying, “You probably saw these.” He holds up his fist, flexing his forearm before three blades shoot from between his knuckles like claws, accompanied by a shing!

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you startle, spilling some water on your blanket. Your head spins with your hangover and the bizarity of the situation. If it didn’t sound so much like how it did in your memory, you might think you were still drunk. 

There’s so many things you want to ask, your intrigue almost winning out over your hangover until the sharp start of a headache gives you pause. Instead, you take another sip of water before rubbing your temple.

“It’s a story for another time,” Logan says, like he can read your mind, and you want to ask him that, too. His claws retreat, the cuts they leave between his knuckles immediately smoothing over until they’re gone. “I gotta go check if I still have a job.”

The words make you feel warm all over, the memory of your back-alley conversation coming back in full force. The thought of the things you admitted to him and that you put him in the position that he had to risk his job for you make you feel even warmer, your gaze no doubt laced with embarrassment and worry when you look at him.

“‘S not your fault,” Logan assures, standing and fishing his car key from the pocket of his jeans. “You don’t have to rush but um, make sure you close the door behind you on the way out. Gets jammed sometimes.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, watching as he makes his way to the front door. 

He takes a final glance at you over his shoulder, then leaves, accompanied by a bang.

THE PUZZLE

It takes you a little over a week to muster up the courage to go back. Admittedly, your courage is aided by another, foreign feeling. You don’t have a name for it yet, or maybe you’re afraid to call it what it is, but somewhere along the week, you became consumed with the thought that feeling like you did wasn’t all there was. That there is something beyond this. 

Perhaps foreign wasn’t the right way to describe it, because it is something you’ve felt before – it’s just been long dormant. The last time, it lasted about a month before it all came crashing down, and you swore you wouldn’t fall for it again, but you can’t help it. The feeling’s too sweet, and the idea that there’s still some baser instinct willing you to keep fighting for yourself makes you feel like the sun is shining on you. 

So yeah, maybe you’re just having one of your good weeks, where the thing sleeps – quiet while its presence still simmers. But you figured now’s your chance to take advantage of its unguarded moment.

Sneaking into the building is surprisingly easy. It helps that it isn’t anything fancy. You wanted to forego the humiliation of ringing the bell and him not letting you in, but standing in front of the door now, panting after climbing three flights of stairs, you don’t know if this is much better. 

Just when you’re about to knock, the door swings open. In the opening, Logan has one arm in his jacket, head twisted to watch the other that’s caught halfway in the sleeve. It takes him almost bumping into you to realize your presence. “Shit, sorry.” He steadies himself with a hand on your arm, the touch leaving you as fast as it appeared.

“Hi,” you breathe, taking a step back to give him a little more space.

He nods in greeting. “Brings you here?”

It takes you a moment, caught off guard by him skipping over pleasantries and cutting right to the chase, despite your best intentions; it’s not that he’s ever been any different in his interactions with you.

“I came by because I, um, owe you an apology, for my behavior at your workplace and for, you know…,” you trail off, gesturing at the door.

“Barfing up the place!” comes a shout from inside the apartment. 

Logan’s eyes close with a sigh, before he steps into the hallway with you and closes the door with a bang. 

“That,” you finish sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”

He nods in acknowledgement.

“I also wanted to ask, um, if you want to come with me to get a coffee. To make it up to you.”

Logan just looks at you, the leather of his jacket creaking as he crosses his thick arms in front of his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you expectantly. You hate how he somehow can see right through you, how he makes you elaborate, and honest.

“I want to quit drinking,” you say, fiddling with the sleeve of your coat. “It doesn’t make me better, and when I don’t do it I finally feel a little… normal. Maybe coffee’s technically just as bad, but it’s the only thing that’s currently acting like… like a reverse gateway drink? And I feel like you’re the only person I know that might get that feeling of–”

“I do,” Logan cuts in, voice softer than before – assuring. His arms drop from where they’re crossed and he starts making his way to the stairs. “Let’s go.”

– – – – –

You don’t know this coffee place, and from the way he looks around and shifts around in a chair that might be a bit too small for him, neither does Logan. Main reason you picked it is because the booths remind you a little too much of a bar – and you like the tall windows. The coffee’s pretty decent.

“Did they fire you?” you ask, picking at a loose corner of one of the laminated menus before setting it back in its holder.

“Boss commended me for helping a customer, but not so much for leaving before my shift ended,” Logan replies. “Got off with a warning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Said that already, and I accepted,” he says. When he takes a sip of the coffee, he winces. “No need to worry about it anymore, okay? I would do it again.”

You nod, folding your hands around the warm cup in front of you.

“But, um, Wade hasn’t shut up about… the incident.” There’s a different tone to his voice, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. “His words.”

“You know, I kind of get the feeling that Wade doesn’t shut up about a lot of things.” It comes out a little meaner than you intend, but it makes Logan laugh and finally slump back in his chair a little. 

“You’re a quick study.”

Offering him a short smile in return, you continue with the other real reason you came to see him, before you chicken out. “I also stopped by because I wanted to, uh… because I realized I never really… I never… I never thanked you, for um… And–”

With a shake of his head, Logan sits upright. “Y’don’t–”

To your horror, your eyes brim with tears, “Logan, I’m supposed to be dead–”

“So am I,” he counters. He lets the words hang between the two of you for a moment, until you look at him, before he continues, “I’ve been where you are. Past it, even.”

You don’t know what to say to that, if the lump in your throat will even permit you to speak, but it’s impossible to look away from him. Logan’s gaze is piercing, frown ever present, but it’s not from anger. Instead, it’s like he’s searching for something, the right thing, to say. The silence doesn’t bother you; if anything, it makes his words seem more genuine when he does speak,

“I had someone who was annoying enough to not give up on me when I could really use it. If getting a coffee with you that’s, frankly…,” he makes a face as he pauses, “a horrible excuse for a coffee, helps… I can do that. I want to do that.”

The corner of your mouth lifts as you blink away your tears. “Was it Wade?”

Logan lets out a chuckle, and it’s honest – fond. “Yeah.”

“Figured,” you say. “How did you meet him?”

Across from you, Logan stills. You swallow thickly, adjusting yourself in your chair. It’s an innocent question, but maybe it isn’t something he’d like to revisit right now. Logan’s mug squeaks when he grips it tighter, and he looks at you with something like defeat– 

It makes you deflate. This must be what you looked like the night you met…

There’s no way to have prepared for what he tells you next: That he came from another timeline about three months ago, that he and Wade saved this one from being destroyed and almost got killed in the process, that he has nothing to go back to after the death of his team, so he stayed here. 

There’s hesitation in it, like he isn’t telling you the whole story, though you don’t comment on it. He doesn’t owe you anything and you’re too busy putting all the pieces in the Logan-shaped puzzle in your mind together; his words and actions towards you are starting to make more and more sense.

“It’s a very brave thing the two of you did,” you say when he’s finished.

“Hmm, it was all Wade,” Logan muses. “He did it all for the people he cares about.”

“I’m sure you would have done the same if you were in his place.”

At that, he lets out a dry laugh with absolutely no joy behind it. “Do me a favor, don’t put me on a pedestal.”

You frown, but before you can comment, he stands. A knot forms in your stomach, worried you’ve offended him, but he clears up the uncertainty immediately.

“I gotta go but um, Wade’s friends–,” he stops himself, correcting, “our friends are coming over to watch a movie, next week, 7:30. I have no idea what crap they’re going to be watching but… it’s nice. It’ll be nice to be around good people.” Logan doesn’t wait for your answer, simply takes his wallet from his pocket and leaves enough money to cover the bill.

“Wait, no, I invited you,” you protest. “I should–”

“You can pay next time.” 

When you nod, he says his goodbyes with a jerk of his head and makes his way to the door.

– – – – –

You see Logan two more times for coffee that week. He never lets you pay.

THE PANTRY

“–but it’s the best one!” Wade protests, DVD in hand.

“They fly a car into space, Wade,” Laura sighs.

“Launched off a jet,” he corrects. Like it helps.

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the smile that appears at everyone’s babbling. Unbeknownst to you, you had found yourself invited to a double feature night, with Wade as the self proclaimed DVDJ. The credits had barely started rolling on A Good Day To Die Hard, or Wade had another DVD at the ready. It was met with the same amount of enthusiasm as when he presented the first.

It hadn’t been easy to make yourself go to this tonight. On your way, you’d thought of turning around at almost every step. Of course, that was all before you knew it would be this fun, and that you’d be relieved you hadn’t canceled last minute. Even meeting everyone hadn’t been as bad as you feared. 

There’s Peter, Wade’s friend. Ellie, another one of Wade’s friends. Yukio, Ellie’s girlfriend. Laura, Logan’s daughter. Mary Puppins, Wade’s small, disgusting but adorable dog, who had greeted you with equal amounts saliva and enthusiasm, before falling asleep next to the TV, completely unbothered by the commotion. Unlike Althea, Logan and Wade’s blind roommate, who had taken one listen to the gaggle of voices and left. The elusive Vanessa, Wade’s ex-but-we-might-get-back-together you heard about a couple times, wasn’t there.

Logan had been right, it was nice to be surrounded by good people. Especially good people who were… unconventional. It made joining them less complicated, less performative, and as the evening progressed it made you a participant instead of a silent observer. Wade even called you, “good for the group dynamic,” and it made you beam with pride.

“Don’t they have like, rockets attached to the car?” Ellie questions, to which Yukio’s eyebrows knit together.

“Exactly!” Wade exclaims, mistaking her confusion for enthusiasm. “Citizen Kane wishes.”

There’s more grumbling from everyone when Wade pops the DVD into the player, and he grumbles something back about how Logan would back him up if he wasn’t in the bathroom because he, quote unquote, goes way back with some of these dudes.

You’re pretty sure he’s the only one who knows what he’s even talking about.

An empty bowl of popcorn rests in your lap, and as you put it on the table, you notice how sticky and greasy your fingers and palms are. When the opening credits begin to roll, you get up to wash your hands, assuring Wade he doesn’t need to pause the movie before you go.

The apartment’s small, so it isn’t far to the kitchen, but it’s nice to stretch your legs. You can still hear the sounds from movie night; tell-tale action movie music, comments of disbelief and Wade shutting them down. They’re more faint, though, more so when you turn the tap on and wash your hands.

Right as you’re finished, you hear a dull thud. You turn the water off, head tilted and at attention while you dry your hands. There’s another sound, like a muffled groan. It’s coming from the pantry, you realize, noting that the door is slightly ajar. There’s a shing! sound followed by a distressed grunt, and before you know it you’re walking over, wrapping your fingers around the door to pull it open–

You’re not sure what it was you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Logan’s sitting on the floor, uncharacteristically small, curled up against one of the walls. His chest is heaving, shoulders all but going up to his ears with how he’s trying to draw in breaths. Next to him, his fist is balled against the hardwood, claws buried in the floor.

Fuck.

Dropping to your knees, you wedge yourself between his. “It’s okay, you’re having a panic attack,” you explain, your hands landing on his shoulders with a light shake. “You need to breathe. I’ll help you, just look at me.”

Logan’s head stays tipped down, a deep, rattling breath sailing from his mouth as he curls further in on himself.

“Hey!” you say sharply, cupping his jaw with two hands and tilting his face up, “Look at me.” 

Logan’s eyes are wet when they meet yours, moving frantically as they search your face, tears spilling over when he blinks. Something changes in his gaze, like he finally sees it’s you, and his bottom lip begins to tremble. His hand lifts from where it’s buried in the floor, clutching onto your wrist like a lifeline.

“Breathe,” you instruct, trying not to flinch at the sharp claws in front of you. He doesn’t catch on immediately, so you overdo the purse of your lips when you blow out a breath before exaggerating an inhale through your nose, showing him what to do. It starts off shaky, a fresh set of tears falling from Logan’s eyes as he does as you instruct, but after a couple of times you find a rhythm together. The silver between his knuckles slowly disappears. “There you go, good job. Keep going.”

You sit like that, until the wild shift of his eyes stops, his pulse steadies beneath your fingertips, and eventually his eyes close with a deep exhale. His grip on you loosens and you take it as your cue to let go of him, slumping back against the wall opposite him with a sigh of relief. The both of you catch your breath, sitting together in silence until Logan breaks it.

“Came outta nowhere… suddenly I was back there… letting them down.”

“It caught you off guard, it happens–”

“I let them get killed,” he says, voice raw. “They were like– They were my family, they trusted me to be there for them and I… I was too caught up in my own bullshit. I should have been with them, I should be dead with them.”

Logan’s tears still come, but the words almost sound reverent; as if saying them out loud just to punish himself with his own shortcomings is a balm. He’s talking about his team from there, you realize, and something clicks. All this time, you thought this was about him being unable to die due to his mutation, but it’s more than that. It’s shame, remorse, grief, survivor’s guilt, all wrapped into one.

It’s the final piece of your mind puzzle that makes his picture appear.

“How– How can I ever atone for that?” he asks. “How can I ever–”

“Logan, you can't change your past,” you interrupt carefully. “You made your choices and they made theirs, and you honored them by– by…stepping up to the task, by doing what you did with Wade.”

“What if it wasn’t enough?”

“What if it was?” you counter. Your hand finds his knee with a squeeze, before adding, “You did what they would have done. And now you… you need to allow yourself to honor their memory without feeling like you have to destroy yourself to do it. You deserve that.”

Logan blinks at you, eyes still glossy. He looks devastated yet calmer than before, like the emotion is still there, but displaced. For a good while, you sit with him like that while his sniffles lessen and his breathing returns to normal… until there’s a loud explosion coming from the living room. It’s followed by cheers and hollers, and you’re both suddenly reminded of where you are. 

“C’mon,” you say, patting Logan’s knee before using it as leverage to haul yourself up with a groan. You give him room by holding the door open for him. “Better get back before we miss the good stuff.”

Still on the floor, Logan exhales heavily. “Think this was the good stuff.”

– – – – –

Three weeks later, on your way to your third movie night, you catch Wade and Vanessa making out in the building hallway. 

It stops you dead in your tracks and makes for an awkward meeting with Wade’s mystery woman, who is beautiful but very direct when she asks you what the fuck you’re staring at. Wade certainly has a type when it comes to the company he keeps… He quickly shushes the situation, introducing the two of you, and it immediately makes Vanessa’s expression twist into recognition. 

“Nice to meet you,” she says, followed by an apologetic smile. 

You respond in kind. 

When Wade tugs at her jacket impatiently, they brush past you and make their way to the exit. “See you around!” she throws over her shoulder.

A grin forms on your lips, realizing what you just witnessed, and you race up the stairs. With Wade gone, you’re not sure if there will be a movie, but at least you have gossip to share with your friends.

THE MEETING

April flies by, rolls into May, and thing’s are… okay.

With some help, you find a therapist. It’s good, she’s good, but it’s difficult to be confronted with things that are painful, week after week, and to keep reminding yourself it’s all part of the process you’re going through.

Last week, after a particularly difficult session, you’d left her office being auto-piloted by dark feelings, like they knew exactly when to strike. You had turned corners and crossed streets, wandering as you stewed on everything you’d discussed –  like your mind was playing a constant loop of your most painful moments. It was a small miracle you had heard your phone, and that you had the presence of mind to thumb the green button.

You’d answered without saying a word.

“Got any plans?” Logan had asked on the other side of the line.

“No,” you’d replied, coming back to yourself a little bit at the sound of his voice.

“Al’s making her meatballs – she and Wade can’t agree on if they’re famous or infamous. Thought you might like to come. If it tastes like shit, we’ll order in.”

You’d hummed, managing to ask, “What time?”

It had stayed quiet on the other end, and that’s how you’d known he was onto you, could picture the pinch of his brows, his lips forming a thin line. For the first time, you welcomed it—wanted so badly to reach through the phone, shake his shoulders, ask for his help and accept it, like he had done with you weeks ago. 

“Sounds to me like now might be good.”

“Yeah,” you had agreed, the constricting tightness in your chest easing up. “Yeah, I’ll be there soon.” You’d released a shuddering breath, ear still pressed to the phone as you took in your surroundings before you auto-piloted yourself to a different destination. 

“Logan?”

“Still here.”

“Thank you for calling.”

“‘course. Get here soon, I’ll stay on the phone.”

The afternoon had ended with Logan and yourself allowing Althea to boss you around in the small apartment’s kitchen, rolling meatballs, sharing stories — Althea’s recollection of something that happened to her in her 20s that involved her stealing a police horse while wearing nothing but a thong, made you cry from laughing.

The meatballs were the best you ever had, though you couldn’t be sure if they actually were, or if it was just the taste of the moment that was better than anything had been that day. 

Sometime after dinner, Logan had nudged your shoulder to show you a little plastic chip. He flashed it at you long enough that you could read the words one month, before he pocketed it again. Then he suggested you come with him next week. 

“I thought it was bullshit too, but it helps,” he’d explained. “Figured I couldn’t continue to drink whatever that stuff is you call coffee to… avoid my problems.”

You contemplated his suggestion. Things were going well for you in that regard, but your therapist had also recommended you go to one of these things, even if it was just for the community aspect of it. It just made it so… official. Your problems, but most of all, your recovery. You weren’t good at keeping promises to yourself, and this felt like a big commitment. Not to mention the speeches and other people’s problems...

But as Logan told you more about it, the location, how it had been for him, you sensed something else between the lines: He wasn’t just asking for you, he was also asking for himself. Maybe… this was his way of telling you he needed some support. 

That’s how you find yourself inside a high school gymnasium a week later. It’s as gloomy as you expected. Slick floors, gray fold-out chairs set in neat rows, buzzing lights in a high ceiling, and a slightly raised podium with a whiteboard that reads a welcome message in capital letters. 

Unsure of what to do, you follow Logan as he weaves through the crowd to find a seat. As you do, it strikes you that there’s a pretty even distribution of people, with many genders, ages and lifestyles represented. Eventually you take a seat; not quite in the back, but definitely not in the front. 

The whole thing goes by in a blur, but where you expected to be overwhelmed, you feel… connected. Here you are, surrounded by people with different backgrounds, different lives, but all their stories have something you can relate to. Where you thought addiction was the common denominator, it’s actually the desire to turn your lives around that unites you the most.

“Before we end the night I want to circle back to last week, when we spoke about goals, or things we want to work towards,” says the woman leading the meeting – you’re ashamed to admit you already forgot her name. “Does anyone want to share something about that?”

It takes a lot to hide your surprise when Logan raises his hand. 

“Logan! Come on up!” She sounds as surprised as you feel, beckoning him to her.

The plastic chair he sits on creaks when he stands and his boots squeak against the shiny floor as he does as she asks. He looks so out of place on a podium; both larger than life behind the lectern and lost to the space of the stage. He clears his throat as he retrieves a paper from his pocket and unfolds it while his eyes scan the room until they land on yours. You give him a little nod of encouragement, and it kicks him into gear.

“Not good at this stuff, so I’m going to keep it brief,” he starts. 

It earns him a chuckle or two from the other attendees, and you can tell he doesn’t expect it when he looks up from his paper. Your hands clasp together with nerves as you watch him divide his weight from one leg to another, before focussing his gaze back down.

“My life has changed a lot over the past few months. For the first time in a long time, it’s not all bad. Coming here has been good. I’m starting to feel more like I did before–” 

He stops his monotonous droning with a frustrated sigh, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and sounding considerably more lively after. 

“I have people I care about again, and um, it scares me. ‘Cause I don’t want to let them down, and every day I feel like I will because of all of my… past shit.” He pauses and swallows hard before he continues, “They show me so much kindness and understanding, that… that even though it’s fucking hard, I want to be able to see myself the way they see me. And allow them to care about me without feeling like I… have to earn it all the time, without destroying myself to do it.” 

You exhale for what feels like the first time in an eternity.

“So, that’s what I’m currently working on.” Logan sighs. “That’s it. Thank you.”

A small applause follows, and you quickly unclasp your hands to join in.

Your palms hurt after.

– – – – –

“It was really nice, what you said in there,” you say, fingers caressing a little plastic chip of your own that you keep safe in your coat pocket. You haven’t felt proud of yourself in a while, but tonight you do.

The evening is nice, the setting sun bathing the city in hues of orange and pink. Your pace is slow and comfortable, your arm occasionally brushing Logan’s when you make room for all the other pedestrians. You didn’t plan on him walking you home, but he insisted and you enjoy the company – it makes you a little sad when you turn onto your street.

Logan scoffs in reply. 

“I’m being serious,” you say, knocking your elbow against his arm on purpose now. “It was nice for people to hear a guy like you say those things. I’m proud of you.”

You swear he blushes. “A guy like me, huh?” he asks, almost amused.

It’s your turn to scoff. “You know what I mean.” 

“A mutant?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“No,” you say, because it’s not what you meant, but the hint of seriousness in his voice and the fact he’s not entirely wrong make you track back. “Well, maybe that, too, but I meant someone who looks like you, allowing themselves to be vulnerable. Sets a nice example.”

Logan doesn’t shoot your comments down like you expect. Instead, he seems to consider your words, maybe he even silently accepts the compliment. “Think you have some things to say that could set a nice example, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

During the comfortable silence that follows, you’re reminded of something you’ve been considering for weeks now. You hadn’t paid much attention to it since that night, but as you worked through the feelings that got you to that point, the question kept coming back.

“I’ve been wondering something,” you begin. “The night we met... What were you doing at the lookout?”

Logan glances at you, contemplating the question. “When I had just, um, gotten here, it wasn’t always easy to adjust, you know? So I went to all these places that I knew from back there, to ground myself, to see that things may be different, but that they’re not that different.”

“You went there on your side?”

He hums.

“By yourself?”

He hums again.

“Did you…” You hesitate to finish your sentence, both because you’re not sure if you have any right to ask and because you’ve reached your building. You stop walking, and Logan follows your lead. 

“No, no, no, I… I can’t explain it, it’s just one of those places I was always drawn to,” Logan says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a shrug. His brows furrow suddenly, his mind seemingly lost in something before his eyes flick back to yours. “Think it took me coming over here to find reason in it.”

It’s a thought that’s equal parts sad and lovely. 

The silence that follows hangs between you, thick with something you can’t place, but Logan doesn’t look away from you, eyes scanning your face before they land back on yours. You can’t help thinking that maybe this is how he does it, and the question comes out before you can help it,

“Is mind reading part of the X-Gene thing?”

His eyes widen – amusement or surprise, you can’t say. “It can be.” 

“Can you do it?”

“No,” he says. “And it’s for the best, fucking hurts when you can’t control it.” Then the start of a smile begins to form on his lips. “‘sides, I don’t know if I would have a lot of… consideration for people’s boundaries.”

It makes you chuckle. “Right. Not to mention some minds are probably a lot – imagine reading Wade’s mind.”

“Hurts to even imagine,” Logan says, gesturing for you to be quiet as he winces, but a smile breaks through anyway. When your shared laughter dies down, he jerks his chin at the building behind you, “This your place?”

“Wha–?” Going home long forgotten in the moment, you glance over your shoulder. “Oh! Yes.”

“All right,” he nods. “See you next week?”

“Definitely,” you reply.

“Oh,” Logan says right before you turn around. “Bring coffee? You owe me.”

You make a face at him. “You don’t have to– I’ll get you something else, I know you don’t like it.”

“I like it when I drink it with you.”

It’s incredibly hard to hide your grin. “Okay, I’ll bring coffee. See you next week, Logan.”

“See you.” 

He lingers, watching you climb the steps, waiting until the door opens after you turn your key in the lock. It’s not until you close the door, when you can only make out his silhouette through the patterned glass window in it, that he walks off.

THE SUMMER

Walking back from a very successful job interview, you find yourself on your way to your friends with a big, plastic bottle of coke under your arm. It’s a warm feeling to know that you’ll soon have a job that suits you and that you have people to celebrate with; you look forward to seeing them and sharing this with them.

You’re invited inside with open arms, tight hugs, exclaimed praise and congratulations, and it makes you giddy, a feeling so foreign that you wish you could bottle it up right this instant. With a grin, you shake the Coca Cola bottle, before twisting the cap off. You let out an excited shout as you watch the foam shoot out from the top, bubbles and dark liquid pulsing down the neck of the bottle as cheers surround you.

It’s not champagne, but Althea grumbles about the soda ruining her floors, Wade gets mismatched glasses from the cupboard, and Logan clinks his glass to yours and tells you he’s proud of you.

It’s way better than champagne.

– – – – –

You’re in serious, desperate need of a new place… 

The August heat is relentless, and the entire building’s AC isn’t working. It’s with considerable effort that you manage to make your way to your friends’ place, the promise of a constant, cold stream of wind the only thing that keeps you going. But when the front door opens, it isn’t with the welcoming, cool waft of air you were hoping for. Instead, there’s no temperature change, only Wade in his underwear.

“No.” It’s a little embarrassing how you literally pout, but these are desperate times. “Here, too?”

“If it wasn’t this fucking hot I’d be offended by that greeting.” He sighs. “Come in.”

Slightly defeated, you shuffle past the threshold, while Wade lingers. Mary Puppins trots by, an ice-pack wrapped in a towel secured on her back, and you catch a glimpse of Logan exiting the bedroom. He’s in black shorts and a ribbed, sleeveless shirt, and with a desperate groan, he lets himself fall back into the recliner in the living room. 

“Tried everything, there’s no fixing that fucking thing.”

Wade makes a face, “Listen, I know what you’re thinking: Wade’s in his underwear, Logan’s emerging from the bedroom… But we didn’t fuck, it’s not that kind of st–”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask from behind him, glancing over his shoulder into the empty hallway.

“No one–You!” The door closes with a bang.

Confused, you walk further into the apartment. “Well, telling me you didn’t is just going to make me think that you did.” Wade darts past you and takes a seat on the couch, but you hang back and lean against the kitchen table to avoid sitting on leather.

Wade suddenly turns to face you. “Did I ever tell you about our time in The Void?”

“Wade,” Logan warns.

Wade’s eyes are sparkling with mischief and you can’t deny how fun it is to indulge the way he pushes Logan’s buttons. It’s a good distraction from how you’re drenched in sweat. And you’re actually curious.

You play your part, letting out a faux-scandalised gasp. “Did you..?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Wolverine goes both ways. All the ways, really.” He grins. “We’re so alike.”

“Shut up. Both of you.” Logan groans, lacking any real threat as he adjusts in his seat and wipes some sweat off his brow. “It’s too fucking hot to be annoyed.”

It isn’t lost on you he doesn’t deny a thing.

– – – – –

Apartments look weird with nothing in them.

It’s what crossed your mind after you finished packing up your place three days ago, and it crosses your mind now as you look into the open space of your new one from the doorway. It’s a pleasant, late summer day; perfect weather to move, which was on your schedule for today.

“Incoming!” comes from behind you, followed by quick, heavy steps.

You jump aside as Ellie sails through the door, carefully setting a big box marked “Kitchen” down in its designated area, followed by Logan who is balancing three boxes at once. After a beat, Yukio follows, holding a single table lamp in her hand. It takes some effort not to laugh, not just because of how funny it looks, but also because you relate; after all the exhausting late nights you pulled packing up, that’s also the kind of energy you’re bringing to this.

It’s nice of them to help, and instead of shoving that feeling away in fear, you allow yourself to bask in it. You don’t get long, however, because more help has just arrived.

Wade. With Vanessa. Hands interlocked.

It draws everyone’s eyes to the doorway. Wade looks almost bashful, and it baffles you how someone who can say the most insane things unprompted, all without batting an eye, could blush while holding hands with a girl he likes. To his credit, he shakes it off quickly.

“All right, all right,” he says. “Stop ogling me and my girlfriend and get back to work everyone!”

– – – – –

“So it was like an experiment?” you ask, stirring the pot on your stove before taking a careful bite of food off your wooden spoon.

Tonight’s your first night hosting at your new place – Family Dinner, Wade had dubbed it. With fall setting in, you had an idea of what to make, but it still made you nervous to have everyone in your space. Logan saw right through you, offering to come over early to help you prepare. 

Once he had arrived, it hadn’t taken long for him to admit he wasn’t much of a cook, so he mainly chopped vegetables as you chatted; you about your new place, Logan about his new job as a boxing instructor, Laura going off to college. You don’t remember exactly how the subject of his adamantium came up, but he was telling you freely about it.

“They needed someone who could regenerate fast enough to bond with it,” he explains. “I was in a dark place. Figured I didn’t have anything to lose if it didn’t work.”

You nod in understanding. “Do you… remember much about it?” You put your spoon down, then put the lid back on the pan. 

Logan’s knife stops hitting the cutting board. “Yeah, I… I remember every second of it.”

You look at him then. His eyes are still cast down at his task. Unsure of what to say, you think about what you’d want to hear, and you find it might be best to say nothing at all. Instead, your hand finds his shoulder. Logan’s head turns to you, and you feel like the look you share is more important than anything you could’ve told him. His hand covers yours with an appreciative squeeze. 

“But I’m trying to leave that there so I can focus on remembering what happens to me here.” As soon as he’s said it, his hand quickly slips off yours, adding, in a rush, “Here in this timeline, I mean.” 

You smile at him, but a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.”

– – – – –

“I need your help with something,” you say, balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder while you turn a birthday card over in your hand. Deciding you don’t like it, you throw it back on the pile of cards and continue your grocery shopping.

“Just say the word,” comes Logan’s reply from the other end.

“I need you to steal something out of the apartment for me.” There’s a silence, and you purposely let the feeling of trepidation linger.

“Am gonna need you to say a little more than just that.”

You laugh, “Wade’s been talking about getting a little frame for his polaroid. You know, the polaroid that you held on to for him in The Void, after the two of you fu–”

“Yes, I know the one,” he interjects with a huff. He pauses, sighs, then says, “Consider it done.”

THE PARTY

“There you are!” Wade shouts after he opens the door. He pulls you into a hug that you return with a wide smile. Over his shoulder, you see that the apartment’s crowded, bustling with people who are there for his birthday party.

“I got you something,” you say, offering the small package to him after you step inside and hang up your coat.

“Wouldn’t have let you in if you hadn’t,” he admits as he closes the door behind you with a bang. Wade takes the package from your hand, shaking it next to his ear but hearing it make no sound in response. “Is it a cock ring?”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Unfortunately, they were all sold out.”

“They always are,” he says, making a disappointed face. Bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you watch as he tears at the wrapping paper to reveal his gift. He makes another face when he sees it. “Well, now I feel like an asshole. This is really nice.”

“Logan helped me kidnap it,” you explain, pointing at the picture. “And the little red hearts on the frame, well, they’re your color, but they also reminded me of how much you care about people.”

When he looks at you after, it’s with genuine emotion… but Wade is Wade. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of happy you walked in here barfing up the place.”

A strange mix of embarrassment and gratitude claws its way up your neck. “Thank you.”

“We should take a new one,” he decides suddenly, pointing at the picture. “You both should be in it.” His head turns, watching as Logan approaches the two of you. “But let’s be realistic, his shoulders are so broad he wouldn’t even fit in the frame, much less his bul–”

“Stop talking about my dick, Wade,” Logan snaps.

“I was saying only good things! Jeez, so sensitive…” Wade turns, putting the picture on the kitchen table behind him where it joins all the other gifts.

“Did he like it?” Logan asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you smile.

“Good,” he replies. “Was a nice idea.”

You eye all the other gifts, some clearer who they are from than others. “What did you get him?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth lifts as he points at a roll of silver duct tape with a small red bow on top, making you fix them both with a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Logan shrugs.

Wade’s eyes sparkle, but in a rare turn of events, he doesn’t elaborate, only adds, “It’s classified. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.” 

“And I have top level clearance, lieutenant,” you reply. You exhale through your nose in an amused laugh when Wade makes a surprised face that indicates you’ve gotten the reference. “What, you thought a Tom Cruise impression could save you?”

“No,” he grins, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings, “but that can. Birthday Boy duty calls, but I want it on record that I could do Top Gun, easily, while Tom would never be able to pull off Deadpool.”

– – – – –

The party settles into something comfortable, soft music in the background of lively chatter. Yukio has just finished telling you about a Professor Layton cosplay she’s doing when you excuse yourself, both your glass and your social battery empty enough to look for a momentary out. Finding your way through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen, filling your glass with water and taking a few sips. 

While you do, the music suddenly gets louder, taking over for the steady chatter. You turn around, leaning back against the kitchen counter, and watch as Wade drags Vanessa to the middle of the apartment. People make room for them, exchanging looks while Wade wraps his arm around her waist, takes her hand in his and begins dancing with her. With a laugh, she slaps him on the chest, before settling into his embrace anyway. Some follow their lead, but your eyes stay glued to them. Wade spins Vanessa under his arm, the smile on her face bright enough to light up the entire room. In return, he looks at her with so much adoration he’s almost glowing himself. It fills you with warmth to see the both of them so happy.

It hits you how you haven’t thought about this in a while. You’d decided long ago that the future wasn’t something you had to worry about, but suddenly you’ve arrived, like you’re in some alternate reality where your future is now, and that it would be nice to share it with someone. The sting behind your eyes catches you a little off guard; mixed feelings of time that has been taken from you, but also of time you’re getting back with the life you now have.

For a while now, you’ve suspected the thing inside you is gone, that there isn’t much to feed off of anymore. If it is, it would make sense that there’s room for something else.

Wade and Vanessa make it look easy, even though you know it’s been far from easy for them. You suppose that’s what it’s like, especially as you get older. It’s less about big gestures, more about small ones; someone to make you laugh, to spin you under their arm, who knows how to apologize, seeks you out during your quiet moments–

“Do you dance?”

You startle, head turning towards the voice next to you– 

“Logan,” you breathe. 

It’s like you’re seeing him for the very first time. He’s standing so close, almost touching you but not quite, heat radiating off of him nonetheless. The plaid shirt he’s wearing isn’t even buttoned and still the fabric is pulled taunt over his shoulders and the thick of his biceps. He’s grinning, his nose pulled up in an adorable scrunch, the corner of his eyes crinkling - you never noticed before, but there’s a hint of green between the hazel.

It hits you so suddenly that you have to grab the counter to keep your balance. Everything that’s been happening, that you’ve been feeling, all the times something happened between the two of you that you couldn’t put your finger on… it falls into place with a well-timed, completely unrelated question and a glance at him.

You like him.

All you can do is blink at him, dazed, unable to speak, even more so when he leans in a little closer, mistaking your silence for misunderstanding. “I mean, not that I– You and Wade were doing a bit earlier, it’s a reference to–” Logan straightens suddenly, his expression slipping into concern as he watches you, “Are you okay?”

You feel warm, so aware of all his attention on you that you’re afraid he might be able to see your pulse blink rapidly below the angle of your jaw. “Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse, looking away from him to blink the leftover wetness from earlier out of your eyes. 

Anxiety claws its way into your chest, your mind coming to terms with what it’s puzzled together at such a sickening pace that there’s an immediate knot in your stomach. The party has instantly lost its shine, and you look down at the glass in your hand, gulping down its contents. You need to be alone with your thoughts, you need to think about this before–

“I gotta go,” you say in such a rush that it almost sounds like one word while you set your glass on the kitchen counter.

Logan’s eyes follow you as you push past him, grab your coat and reach for the doorknob. “Wait–”

“Bye, Logan.”

THE TABLE

Once at home, you change into something more comfortable, your mind racing while you peel your party clothes off, toss your bra aside, change into an oversized shirt and plop down on the couch after.

Despite having already established that your mind was occupied with other things for a very long time, it’s laughable in hindsight that you never noticed your feelings before. It’s not like you don’t know what Logan’s like; he’s kind, funny, supportive…

…broad, handsome.

Shit.

Why did you have to come to your senses? Things were better before that moment. Logan’s your friend, whom you met in the most unconventional way possible. It’s ridiculous to want more than what you have when what you have is good. Or to think that he would want more.

But he might.

Because you may have been occupied with depression, anxiety, recovery, and everything in between, but you were there; you remember the time you spent with him, the way he looks at you, drinks the coffee you like, laughs at your jokes, seems to know exactly when to call you, seeks you out in a crowd.

But it would change everyth– 

Actually, not a whole lot would change, if you really think about it. You already see him all the time, you’ve seen the very worst of each other, overcome a great deal of hardship together, you make each other better, his friends are your… 

friends. 

You didn’t say goodbye to Wade.

The thought comes suddenly. It was his birthday party and you didn’t even say goodbye to him before you left. You’re a terrible friend. Dread sinks into your limbs, and you reach for your phone to type out a quick, apologetic message. Just as you hit send, there’s a series of loud knocks on the door, and it makes you freeze up where you’re seated.

“Are you in there?” a muffled voice calls out.

It’s Logan, you realize, and a plethora of fake excuses as to why you left the party early present themselves to your mind as you quickly make your way over to the door.

The first thing you notice when you open it is that he’s dripping wet from the rain, clothes soaked through and his hair flat. There’s a deep furrow in his brow, and it’s different from how he usually looks; he looks actually mad.

“Logan, is everything–” you begin, concerned, but he cuts you off by pushing past you and letting himself inside, boots stomping against the wooden floor. 

“Jesus, here you are. Why’d you leave like that, huh? Saying goodbye, your eyes all wet. I went after you and you were fucking gone, it scared the shit out of me. Didn’t see the car at the lookout, but I went to look for you anyway, and you weren’t in the water, thank fuck–”

“Wait, you went–” you pause, the mental image of Logan running out into the rain to the cliffside making your eyes widen. “Did you think..?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, shoulders slumping.

“Shit.” Your heart is racing when you step closer to him. “No, I wasn’t… I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then what the fuck was that all about?”

The desperation and misunderstanding in his eyes is unmistakable, and you hate that you made him feel like that. “I was just… I needed a moment, after seeing Wade and Vanessa like that,” you say, trying to provide yourself with more time to think, unsure if you already want to broach the subject of why you really left.

“You… like Wade?” Logan asks, his frown deepening.

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the unexpected question. “No. I mean, I adore Wade, but not like that. He’s with Vanessa.”

The answer does nothing to change his expression. “And you want it to be different?”

His line of questioning confuses you. “I– No. Logan, this isn’t about Wade or Vanessa, but it’s about… what they have. Something that’s real, but imperfect, and that’s what actually makes it perfect, and I just… I was in a really bad place for such a long time, I didn’t give myself time to even think about… I haven’t felt myself wanting for so long,” your gaze flicks up to his. “Seeing them just made me realize there’s so much left that I still want.” 

Internally, you curse the way he always makes you say too much, because you can see the understanding wash over his features. His expression softens, the balled fists by his side loosen, and his eyes search you, as if to see if that thing you want is him. There’s no doubt he finds his answer; you’re ever the open book when it comes to him, and your pulse quickens while he silently observes you. 

Logan reaches for you so quickly that you can barely prepare for it, a hand on your waist to pull you in, another on your cheek to tip your face up and guide your mouth to his. A shaky breath sails out through your nose when your lips meet, your eyes fluttering shut and your palms sliding up his damp but warm chest to curl in the soaked fabric of his shirt. It’s eager, and the angle is off, but it’s quickly adjusted with a brief parting and a near in-sync tilt of your heads in the other direction. 

Logan pulls away, but stays close, and you almost feel his words before hearing them, “Been… thinking about doing that.”

“Really?” you say, breathless and amused. “When did you, um, start wanting to do that?”

“Few weeks ago–Fuck, no, more than that. Almost did, that day after your first meeting, after you told me you were proud of me,” he admits. “But I wanted to give you time, space. Wasn’t sure if you felt–”

“I do. Didn’t realize it before, but I fucking do,” you assure him, another tug on his collar trying to pull him back to you. His admissions, knowing he wants you too, only make you want him more, like you have to make up for all the time you wasted not doing this sooner.

Logan’s hand on your waist holds you off. “I just don’t know how to… how to be this,” he confesses softly.

“That’s okay,” you say, your nose brushing against his. “I don’t either.”

He inches forward like he intends to kiss you again, but seems to reconsider, swallowing hard before saying, “Wouldn’t be the first time we figure it out together, huh?”

The words make you surge forward to close the gap between you, your brows creasing, attempting to convey everything you feel with one press of your lips to his. Logan’s hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you to him in a way that seems to mirror your efforts. Something lights up inside you, something you lost long ago, and it makes you bold, opening your mouth under his to get a taste of him. 

His grip on you tightens with a groan, spurring him into action and walking you backwards into the dark kitchen, the only illumination the slivers of moonlight that come through the kitchen window. You jolt when the back of your thighs hit the table, before you’re scrambling to get on top of it, two hands at your waist helping to hoist you up. Your thighs widen to make room for Logan’s while you push the green flannel shirt off his shoulders, struggling to peel it off his arms to the point you have to break away with a laugh to really get it right. It lands on the floor with a wet sound, before he reaches for the back of his shirt, curling his fingers around the collar and pulling it over his head.

Logan’s sturdy, warm to the touch and surprisingly pliant when you can’t help but let your fingers flit along the corded muscles and protruding veins while he toes off his shoes. His hand flies to the back of your head to fist the hair at the nape of your neck when your lips explore, find his jaw, and travel down his neck. A soft sound sails from his mouth, a barely audible moan that carries over into something deeper when your lips brush a spot just above his clavicle. Using the grip he has on you, he drags you back up to his mouth, doing some more of his own exploring when his warm tongue strokes against your own. 

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs with a buck of his hips against yours. The thrill of having him pushed up against you, half-hard, warm, full of promise, makes you moan, teeth clacking against his when you do. “Always so fucking good to me.”

It makes you want to protest, from the very moment you met, he’s the one always being that to you, but it dies on your tongue when Logan’s flicks over the tips of his fingers. His impatient hand finds its way between you, disappearing under the waistband of your underwear and stretching the material to make room. His name comes out as a whimper when his spit-slick fingers easily glide through the soft skin between your legs. He curses, another buck of his hips pressing his hand closer against you, and your kiss turns messy and uncoordinated when he dips one finger to touch your clit. 

“This okay?” Logan asks when you gasp, drawing languid circles between your legs.

“Yeah, it’s just– Oh, god.” Two thick fingers find your entrance, swirling the wetness there around. “Been a while,” you manage to finish your sentence.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he promises. “You want that?”

All you can do is nod, and Logan presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulls his hand back. It’s paired with a wet sound that makes your cheeks heat, more so when you watch him get on his knees and yank you to the edge of the table, the quick turn of events and the casual display of his strength making you a little dizzy. Logan’s nose presses into the fabric between your legs with a sharp inhale, before quick, practiced moves work your underwear down your legs. One eager hand places a thigh on his shoulder as another holds you at the bend of your knee. You lie back, arching as you hurriedly pull your t-shirt over your head, leaning up on your elbows just in time to watch him bend down. 

The feeling of Logan’s hot breath sailing out over your sensitive skin alone is enough to make you gasp. He drags his lips and nose across your folds, easing you into it as much as his lack of patience will allow before tasting you with a swipe of his tongue. It isn’t tentative or testing, but firm and sure, and clearly for his enjoyment as much as yours when he repeats his action and groans into you. The vibrations of it and the gentle scratch of his facial hair only add to the liquid feeling in the pit of your stomach. Letting go of your knee, he curls a strong arm around your thigh, spreading you open then pulling you flush against him while he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Oh, that feels really good,” you spur him on, your heel digging in between his shoulder blades. You watch him with hooded eyes, shifting your weight to one elbow so you can cup your breast with a whine. 

Logan’s eyes slip shut in focus, working his tongue up and down your clit and making you arch into his mouth. Reaching for you blindly, he slides a hand over yours on your chest, fingers fitting between your own and squeezing while his tongue slides lower to lick over where you’re dripping for him. He lets out an appreciative hum as he repeats the move until your thighs clench and shake around his ears. His tongue dips inside you, curling up against the slick walls of your cunt, and his name tumbles from your mouth, soft, pleading, making his eyes shoot open to meet yours.

The sight of him looking up at you like that from between your thighs, with dark eyes, the tip of his nose glistening with your wetness, will probably haunt you for the rest of your life. 

Logan shushes your begging, pulling away and watching as your pussy clenches at the sudden lack of attention. “Let me give you something to come on,” he murmurs, before fitting a finger at your entrance. It meets absolutely no resistance, a second finger sliding inside with just as much ease, and he sets a steady, deep rhythm before his mouth returns to your clit.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck–” Your head rolls back between your shoulder blades, mouth open on a silent gasp, but he draws your attention back to him with a curl of his fingers, finding a spot that makes you go rigid for a second. It all builds so fast, so suddenly. The hand on your chest shakes Logan’s off, finding the crown of his head and sliding your fingers into his hair. He’s too strong to really make purchase, but you try anyway, using your grip to roll your hips against him. The sound of his groans, every flick of his tongue and every squelching, delicious curl of his fingers all send you closer and closer, until his hand presses down on your belly, and…

“Logan,” you manage, voice sharp with a warning that comes too late when he makes you tumble over the edge. 

It’s so much after so long, the force of it making you fall back against the table, something between a gasp and a shout tearing from your throat. He holds you tighter, to keep you in place and guide the desperate roll of your hips against his face. Your orgasm quickly slips into something bordering on oversensitivity, and you let out a dry sob that makes you slap a hand over your mouth when Logan’s tongue travels a path from where his stilled fingers disappear inside you, up to your clit. He stays there, gentle, uncharacteristically patient as you slowly come to a twitching halt. 

He’s a blur when he comes back into your field of view after standing up, towering over you to watch as you come back down to earth. Becoming sharper with every heavy blink of your eyes, you notice the smile on his face is smug, that the hair surrounding it is a shade darker than the rest. You sigh softly when his fingers slip from you, the feeling of them sliding wetly over your clit making you tremble, but his touch doesn’t leave you completely when he moves to stroke the outside of your thigh.

“How’s that?” Logan dares to ask.

“Hmm, no speaking yet,” you protest.

Reaching for him, you slide both of your arms up over his broad shoulders, wrists crossed in the nape of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. It’s slow, and deep, the taste of yourself shared between the two of you as your tongue slides over his. The table protests with a creak when his hands land beside your head, more when his chest pushes down on yours and you wrap a leg around his waist to get him even closer. The hair scattered across his broad chest teases your nipples and the hard ridge of his cock strains against his jeans and presses up against your slick cunt. It makes your jaw go slack, stoking your desire and making you burn with the need to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. 

With a push against his shoulders, you take him along as you sit upright again, accompanied by another creak of the table. Mouth still on his, you slide a hand down to cup him over his jeans, the weight of him against your wide open palm making you pulse. Logan grunts when your hand squeezes, and your mouth slides off his, kissing his jaw, sliding back down his neck. He cups your head, keeping you in place while watching your hand.

“Feels nice,” he husks, voice so deep it makes you want to push him aside and get on your knees for him, but then he asks, “Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

“God, yeah,” you say with a nod, watching as the mark you just sucked into his neck disappears far too soon while you continue rubbing him over the denim. “Want you inside of me.”

“Jesus–Then get it out,” he instructs, guiding your hand to his belt. 

If you weren’t so turned on you might wince at how eager you are, at how quickly you tug the buckle open and pull the leather free. Logan groans when it relieves some of the pressure, letting his forehead rest against yours. Together, you watch your hands make quick work of his zipper, your fist closing around his cock while your other hand works his pants down until he can kick it off and under the table.

He fits nicely in your palm, heavy and ready, sticky at the tip. With a purse of your lips, you let your spit trickle down in a straight line, and he hisses when it hits him. Your free hand flattens against his stomach, sliding down along the hard planes of his body and following the vein just below his belly button down, until it meets your other hand that loosely strokes up to the root of his cock. Logan arches into you when you stroke back up with a tighter grip, all but getting on his toes to chase your touch. Using both of your hands to get all of him, you twist your fists in opposite directions once, twice, before circling his tip with one thumb. Your other hand curls around the underside of him, dragging some of your spit down to his balls with the tips of your fingers.

“F–fuck,” Logan stutters when you play with him there, cupping him in your hand as well as you can and squeezing his shaft when it twitches in response. His eyes slip shut as his palms land on the outside of your thighs with a smack, fingertips digging into your soft skin. 

It makes you jolt, then grin, giddy from the sharp sting and the power you have over his pleasure. “How’s that?” you echo with a teasing lilt.

He does have the words to answer, albeit a little slurred, “‘S good, sweetheart.”

The nickname tacked on at the end takes root in your chest, blooms bright and makes you ache. You translate your appreciation into tightening your strokes and spreading more of the precome that steadily leaks from his tip around.

“C’mere,” Logan says softly, taking over for you with one hand, giving himself a few strokes before pushing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer to line himself up with you.

You’re so wet that the head of his cock is practically already slipping inside of you, but your hand clasps around his bicep when he really starts to breach you. After giving you a shallow little thrust, his hips draw back, before pushing a little further, gauging your reaction.

“Just like that,” you sigh, watching the careful slide of him in and out of you. “Keep going just like that.”

He gets you opened up like that, giving you a little more with each wind of his hips. Logan’s hand finds the back of your neck, his palm splaying out and keeping you close enough that you’re practically sharing air with each sigh and moan. Eventually, your knees have to draw up to his flanks in order for him to keep going and you wind a leg around his hip to close the final distance with a press of your heel into one of the firm cheeks of his ass. A long breath sails out from between your lips when you pulse around him, slowly adjusting to having all of him filling you up. You can tell he has to put considerable effort into letting you, wood groaning below you when he clutches onto the table.

“Fuck, it’s a lot,” you say, and when he grins against your mouth you can’t help but kiss him again – just a peck. The hand at the back of your neck squeezes in reassurance as he continues to let you lead, and it’s a small gesture, but it makes you feel warm all over. You melt into it his touch, your body relaxing as the pleasure of the stretch of him takes over.  

“Can stay like this a little longer if you want,” he says, but the strain in his voice says something different.

“Hmm, no, you can move.” You’ve barely said it, or his hips are drawing back, and it would have made you laugh if it didn’t feel so fucking incredible. He almost slips from you completely, before sliding all the way back inside with a grunt. The table scrapes along the floor, and vaguely you register one of your chairs falling over in the process. When he repeats the action, the furniture squeaks again below you. “Just don’t break my table.”

The sound he makes in response is non-commital, and when he fucks back into you and nudges against something wonderful, you can’t say you disagree. Grabbing hold of his shoulder and using the leg you have wrapped around him, you roll your hips against his, and he begins to meet you halfway until you work up a rhythm together. The table protest further, a shrill sound filling the room after each slap of skin–

With a frustrated groan and accompanied by a startled squeal from yourself, Logan lifts you. The surprised laugh that threatens to bubble up your throat quickly morphs into something heavier that comes out with a rasp when he makes it all look unusually effortless. Attempting to brace yourself, you sling one arm over his shoulders, the other winding around his neck so you can rake your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. It’s a struggle to keep your balance, a helpless heel digging into the back of his thigh to keep yourself upright. Quick to aid, Logan slides an arm under you, fingers splayed across your ass as your knee hangs off the inside of his elbow. He turns a quarter, presses you up against the wall, and doesn’t miss a beat as he continues fucking you. 

“Jesus, Logan,” you say, voice almost a growl and barely recognizable as your own.

With your new position, you can see him better, the both of you lit from the side with the window to your left. The moonlight paints him in a tapestry of light and shadows when the wind blows through the tree branches, momentarily amplifying the glint in his eyes and the flex of his chest and arms like a strobe light.

The different angle he finds with his cock is a little too good, the feeling of the thick base of him stretching you open with each thrust making you dazed and talkative, “It’s so deep like this, can–oh, my god–can feel you everywhere.” 

Logan curses at your words, squeezing your waist and pushing you harder against the wall. There’s a deep-voiced appreciation of how good you feel in there too that doesn’t quite make it from your ears to your brain because somehow he’s still speeding up. His head ducks down to your chest, mouthing at the soft skin of your breast before closing his lips around a nipple. 

You whine, using the grip you have on him to roll your hips against the piston of his while you pant into his crown. Though the sound he makes against you when you do it makes you beam with pride, it’s not something you can keep up for very long, your hold on him slacking after a few thrust until you slip back against the wall. 

Logan pulls back when you do, tightening his hold on you while his eyes glide from the bounce of your tits that glisten with his spit to down between your bodies. 

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, grunting when you immediately do as he says by bringing a hand down between where you’re joined. Your fingers spread in a V-shape around where he fucks into you, collecting some of your mixed arousal before using it to rub your clit. “That’s it, sweetheart, fuck, make yourself come.”

You nod, rapidly feeling everything zeroing in on the fingers that draw tight circles over your clit and that spot deep inside you that Logan’s finding with every thrust. “Yeah, fuck, I’m–Don’t stop, don’t stop, please–”

He’s coming before you are, tucking his head below your chin to let out a deep, drawn out moan against your neck that ends with his teeth grazing your skin. It’s so much, the pressure of him grinding himself into you with twitching, barely there thrusts, the heat of his release as it fills you where you’re gripping him like a vice, and as your fingers still twirl between your legs you come, and come, and come. 

The leg you have wrapped around his hip slips off, but before your toes can even scrape the floor, he catches your thigh, cupping your ass with both hands now to keep you up, and close. With a soft, satisfied sound, you let your forehead fall against Logan’s shoulder, tasting the salt of his sweat with every light press of your lips there.

It takes you a moment to notice your back has come off the wall, that Logan is walking the both of you into your living room and to the couch. He bends his knees, dropping you between your pillows, where you land with as much grace as you can muster considering you feel like you’re made of lead. The soft couch is pleasant against your body, your sore limbs sinking into the cushions. 

Logan fits himself between your legs again, widening them around his broad shoulders before his lips find your overstretched thighs, leaving marks and kisses up up up, until his tongue slips back into your pussy. Your back arches off the couch, hands shooting down to fist his hair with a whine while Logan’s hand fists his cock. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell he’s already getting hard again, and his tongue is making something swirl low in your belly that’s making you pant, and...

It’ll be a long night.

THE PEARL

It had taken a lot of convincing and downright groveling, but Wade had allowed you to bring a movie for movie night. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust your taste in movies, his main gripe with your choice was that it wasn’t a Christmas movie – mandatory for December. Wade’s right, but after you explained that it’s the movie you always watch at the end of the year (and after Logan and yourself conceded that yes, his birthday was technically also your anniversary) he’d agreed. 

Now that you’re actually watching it, you suspect he’s genuinely invested, because after a handful of comments about The Hulk, he’s been quiet for longer than you’ve ever heard him be quiet.

In the scene on the screen, Mark Ruffalo’s character Dan and Keira Knightley’s character Gretta are taking an evening walk around New York City, dancing, singing and sharing music with each other as they do. Eventually, they stop and sit next to each other on some steps, watching as the city continues to move without them.

“...the most banal scenes are suddenly invested with so much meaning, ya know? All these banalities, they're suddenly turned into these… these beautiful, effervescent pearls,” Dan says, wistfully looking on as New York bustles around him. “I gotta say, as I've gotten older these pearls are just… becoming increasingly more and more rare to me.”

The arm Logan has slung around your shoulder tightens, and the couch creaks softly as you lean further into his side, your cheek squishing against his warm chest.

“More string than pearls?” Gretta inquires with a frown.

“Yeah. You got to travel over a lot more string to get to the pearls.” There’s a pause as he turns to look at her, “This moment is a pearl, Gretta.”

She gives him a hint of a smile. “It sort of is, isn't it?”

“All this has been a pearl,” he admits, sharing a look with her.

A finger curls under your chin, tipping your head up until your eyes meet Logan’s. He gives you the same look you just saw on the screen, his eyes soft as they take you in, the hint of green between the hazel illuminated by the light of the television. A thumb swipes over your bottom lip fondly, before he leans down to kiss you.

It takes a lot of string indeed.

Sometimes even interdimensional string.

– – – – –

(THE END)

If you made it all the way here, thanks for reading. Seriously. Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with. I hope to share more writing soon - emphasis on hope, I'm not making promises, just an educated wish.

And lastly, if you're struggling with mental health problems, please don't wait for a handsome stranger to sweep you off your feet. I know from experience that it can be incredibly difficult to reach that hand out, but I also know from experience that things can get better. There are ways to get help and you deserve to get help 🫂

[fiapartridge]

2/2. May I please request something with Jack? His girlfriend being nervous/insecure because not only does she not know his family/team mates/friends etc but she has no prior knowledge/experience with hockey (any sports/sport activities really) and boating etc. Just feeling out of place in a world where her boyfriend and his family are some of the best/most famous. Obviously take this in whatever direction you wish or ignore it. (I come from a family of artistic city people and my only extracurriculars were volunteering at libraries and museums, I am as boring as they come lol)

obsessed | jack hughes

"i'm so obsessed with your ex..."

jack hughes x reader

summary: realizing that you have nothing in common with jack, you start to wonder why he even likes you in the first place.

warning(s): angst with a happy ending, cursing, luke and quinn being dicks sorry lol

fia's note 💌: VERYYY loose interpretation of this request LOL SORRY IF THIS IS ASS okayyy enjoy!

not proofread (i got lazy sorry lol)

You should’ve known what you were getting into once you got into your relationship with Jack. You should’ve known that it would be hard; that dating a hockey player—a famous hockey player—would be hard, but you, for some reason, didn’t let that stop you. During times like these, you wish it did.

“So, Y/N, how’d you get into hockey?” Ellen asked from across the dinner table. You were too busy stuffing your plate to hear, and once the table fell silent, you knew she had asked you something. 

Embarrassed, you set your plate down, taking Jack’s hand instead. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She laughed, and then the whole table laughed, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer and your body more tense. Was it that bad? “I asked how you got into hockey, honey.”

“Oh,” you smiled, turning to her. “I didn’t really get into hockey until I met Jack,” you said, leaning closer to him as he smiled softly in return. To be honest, you were glad that you hadn’t been into hockey, or any sports in general, prior to meeting Jack. He taught you how to score a goal, how to celly, and even how to take a hit on the ice. (Jack said he was hitting you just how he would any guy, but you knew he didn’t even put a 1/10th of his weight onto you. Then, he called you Hulk for not even realizing how hard it was. You thought he was bluffing; you still do.)

“You don’t play, or skate, or anything?” Jim asked, cutting into his steak and stuffing the small slice into his mouth.

You shook your head. “No, I, um, my family wasn’t really big on any of that.”

Poking his head up, Luke smiled towards Jack as he pointed his fork at the older boy. “Katy knew all about hockey.”

Katy? You tilted your head to Jack, silently asking who Katy was. It was like he was trying to not make eye contact with you, like he was embarrassed. For who? For you? For him? Slipping your hand out from his, you placed both of yours under your thighs, trying to still yourself from shaking. You shook when you were nervous. Jack knew and he was scared—scared that his family was gonna go ahead and ruin it all. 

Sensing your confusion, Luke nodded at you. “Katy was Jack’s girlfriend in high school. Lead scorer in her team’s league. She was legendary. Whatever happened to her, Jack?”

You felt your chest clench, and your hands underneath your thighs weren’t helping anything, and you couldn’t stop bouncing your knee, and Ellen was staring at you again. You just wished they would stop staring at you, like they were waiting for a reaction from you. 

“Luke, shut up,” Jack scolded, trying to grab your hand from under your thigh as you shook your head. You just wanted this to be over. You shouldn’t have agreed to meet his family. You shouldn’t have agreed to be with him. You were never going to be enough; not when there’s Katy; not when he had the most perfect girl for him, and he still chose to break up with her. When was he going to break up with you? Probably after this dinner. Probably after his family tells him that you’re not the one; that you’re not like Katy at all.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted as Luke was just about to spew his rebuttal. You stood from your chair, laying your cloth napkin on the table as Jack looked up at you with concern. “Um, can I go to the bathroom?”

Quinn laughed. He laughed. He fucking laughed at you.

“Sure, honey,” Ellen smiled, silently scolding Quinn. “It’s in the hallway by the kitchen, third door on the right.”

“Thank you,” you said, not even looking up at anyone before quickly racing to the bathroom. 

Locking the door, you sat on the toilet cover, pulling out your phone, and immediately going to Instagram. He has to be following her. Someone has to be following her. And right when you searched up “Katy” on Luke’s Instagram following, there she was, in all of her hockey glory. The perfect girl. 

She had sandy blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and she looked at least 5’8, maybe even taller. She wore designer brands that your bank account wouldn’t even allow you to look at, and God, she looked amazing in that dress. But somehow, in some possible way, she looked even better in her hockey gear. She still had posts with Jack in her tags. She’s sitting on his lap at a party, red Solo cups in hand as he stares at her with a look he had never given you. You can see the way she’s loved by everyone around her; the way Ellen holds her like a daughter; how Luke plays games with her like a sister; how Trevor carries her over his shoulder like they’re best friends. You’ve never felt that way with anyone close to Jack.

Even back in New Jersey, every time you went out with the team, you felt like you were just there. Like you were just wasted space. Sometimes you wondered if they even knew your name. You told them plenty of times, but Dawson still asks every time you see him, and Nico still gives you those sad pity smiles, like it’s another reminder that you don’t fit in with Jack and his friends.

Sometimes you even question it. Why are you with Jack? You’re total opposites. He loves hockey, you know nothing about the sport. You think staying in and knitting is fun when his ideal nights are going to parties and getting drunk off his ass. You guys don’t even look good together. You know who he looks good with? Katy. 

Katy. Katy. Katy.

You’ll never be Katy.

“Y/N?” A knock at the door took you out of your spiral as you stared at the wooden slab, too scared to open it and be met with his entire family laughing at you from the hallway. “Baby, it’s Jack. I,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his forehead resting on the door in front of him. I lost her, he thought. There’s no coming back from this. She hates me and my family, and I blew it. “I screamed at Luke; he had no right to talk to you like that. And Quinn’s getting yelled at by my mom as we speak. Please just—please let me in.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the door, being met with a distressed Jack whose eyes were red and whose lips were swollen with the amount of chewing he was doing to them. It broke your heart to see him that way, but his family was right. Katy was perfect, and you’re nothing like her.

“Baby,” Jack stepped closer as you took a step back, ripping his heart into pieces. “Y/N.”

“Your family’s right, Jack.” “No, they’re not,” he argued.

You nodded, frowning, and holding back a sob because it felt over. It felt so over. “They are. They are because what do we have in common, Jack? Nothing! We have nothing in common, and everybody sees it! Jack, I—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t break up with me.”

“Jack—”

“Who the fuck cares?” he exclaimed. “Who cares if we have nothing in common? I like you, I want to be with you, you’re my person! I don’t see that with anyone else.”

Rolling your hand down your face, you let out a tired sigh. “You’re gonna see it, Jack. You’re gonna realize that I’m not your person; that I’m not the one you want; that I’m awkward and boring and don’t get along with anyone you care about, and you’re gonna break my heart. And that’s just how it is.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You think I could ever get tired of you? I like you because you’re nothing like my friends, or my family, or anyone I’ve ever dated. I broke up with Katy because her life was just hockey, and my life was just hockey, and everything was just hockey.” Stepping closer, he held your hips as your back hit the sink behind you. “I don’t want my life to be hockey. You’re the part of my life that I need. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d go crazy,” he laughed as you rubbed your sleeve against your wet nose.

“Your friends don’t like me.”

“Fuck them,” he grinned, running his thumbs up and down your waist. “Plus, you haven’t met Coley yet. Think he’d like you more than he likes me.”

“What’s he like?”

“Taylor Swift karaoke—”

“Sold,” you chuckled as he shook his head, smiling at you like you were the only girl in the world, because to him, you were. “So this Katy girl,” you said, raising your eyebrow slyly.

“Is irrelevant,” he answered. “I only have eyes for you, pretty girl.”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hello!! I would like to request a part 2 (or not? more like another POV) to the protective younger sibling!sidekick snippet if you’re okay with it ^^

This time it’s hero asking henchman to meet up and henchman just panics like “omg do they know who i am?? bro im going to get my ass beat and die 😭💀” and decides to spill everything from their real identity to their bar escapades with sidekick

but in reality hero was just really glad that their younger sibling finally got a special someone so they just wanted to get to know them more and all about their relationship😭 also ofc they knew who henchman was all along, duh (their villain lover tells them literally everything)

pt. 1

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to spy on them or anything like that — at first I didn’t even know it was them and I think they still don’t know it’s me. I just kind of met them a couple of times coincidentally and I don’t know, I like them a lot, I really do. They’re so smart and like, I don’t know, so quick? Like they can keep up with my mind and I wasn’t really trying anything at first, I didn’t even think they’d like me and I was just kind of—”

“Woah, I didn’t even get to accuse you of anything.” The hero played with their pen out of habit and studied the henchman. They were certainly panicking and the hero was not going to let something this small turn into this giant thing. “I wish all my interrogations would go that way. Would make my job certainly easier…”

“Please don’t kill me,” the henchman whispered.

“Jeez. Relax. I’m not gonna kill you for dating my sibling.” The hero rolled their eyes. What exactly was their lover telling the henchman about them? That they were some sort of monster?

They definitely needed to talk to the villain. They’d danced around this subject for a while now. When the hero had found out a few weeks ago, they had wanted to talk to the henchman immediately but the villain had urged them not to rush into anything.

And they supposed the villain was right about that.

Getting into other people’s business didn’t always turn out great for the hero.

And they simply really wanted to see their lover.

“Technically, we’re not dating…”

“Well, whatever you want to call it, I can’t tell you what to do and what not to do. You’re great, so I have nothing to fear. I just wanted to get to know you a little better.” The hero worried their lip between their teeth. Maybe they had enough time to visit the villain during lunch? They let the pen spin in their hand.

“Wait…really?”

“Yeah, you’re old enough, I reckon. You can decide these things for yourself.” The hero took in a deep breath. Maybe they should review some cases first? For whatever reason, their mind kept jumping from one topic to another and they weren’t really sure if it was the coffee or them being a little more nervous than they wanted to admit.

This was their sibling’s first (potential) relationship. Clearly, they were old enough and the henchman was a great choice but the hero wondered if their sibling wanted to distance themselves now that they were older.

Whatever choice they’d make, the hero was going to support them, even if that meant they were the annoying older sibling. Maybe the villain had some advice for them.

They closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. Speculating wouldn’t get them far.

“I’m not really used to…responsibility, I guess?” The henchman stared at the hero’s desk as if they were trying to control it with their mind. Their nervousness had shifted to embarrassment and the hero didn’t want that in their office either.

“How so?”

The henchman thought about their words carefully, as if the hero was still an enemy they needed to be cautious around.

That was smart. But the hero doubted they still saw them as a threat. If they really wanted to date the hero’s sibling, they’d try everything to end up on the hero’s good side.

God, their mind was racing. They really needed to see the villain. They always managed to calm them down.

“…sometimes I feel more like a burden to the villain. They barely take me out on missions or let me help them,” they eventually said and the hero couldn’t believe how far off the henchman was with an assumption like that.

Them? A burden to the villain who protected them, shielded them as if they were their own child?

“They’re terrified of losing you,” the hero said.

“I can take care of myself. I’m not dumb.”

“They don’t think you are.” The hero clicked their pen a couple of times and doodled some hearts onto paper. The henchman seemed to be a usually quiet person but right now, a lot of frustration was set free.

It wasn’t exactly anger; it was disappointment.

“Still, I would appreciate a little more trust. I am more than capable to help them. I don’t want to do just research. One time, they nearly died because they didn’t tell me they were injured.”

“They do trust you. They’re just trying to shield you from the bad things. Believe me, I’ve tried doing that and I’ve failed,” the hero said.

“Then what am I doing wrong? I’m not a child anymore. I know how to fight.”

The hero was quiet for a moment. Apparently those doubts had manifested throughout time. The henchman felt quite worthless and couldn’t really see how much the villain actually cared about them.

How the villain made sure they were eating and drinking enough. How they called them several times a day to make sure they were okay. How they researched schools and workplaces for them all the time.

“You’re an orphan, aren’t you?” they asked as gentle as possible.

The henchman nodded. “I barely talk about it.”

“Well, the villain is an orphan as well and they were robbed of their childhood. They don’t want you to grow up as quick as they had to. That’s why they let you do…well, office work instead of getting your hands dirty. It’s more of an excuse. They want you to study people instead of fighting them.”

“…but they need me. They’re a total idiot sometimes. Last week they were clearly outnumbered and almost got themselves killed. Again.”

“Well, thank God I am here now to help them. More or less.” The hero leaned back. Most of the time, they disagreed with the villain when it came to work. But they’d obviously break a few rules to save their lover every now and then. “You need them just as much as they need you, don’t you?”

The henchman didn’t meet their eyes, so the hero continued.

“You think they don’t care and you think they’re pushing you away but that’s not true. Truth is, this isn’t all fun and games. Seeing someone you love collapse is the worst thing in the world. Losing someone close to you is an indescribable grief. Let me do the saving and the nasty work. You can guide them. Do the research and make plans. Fight my sibling occasionally…”

Suddenly, the henchman blushed.

“Oh, I…uh…”

“You’re right. You aren’t a child anymore and you can decide what you want to do with your future. But there are people who care about you and they will try to shield you from danger, no matter how old you are.” The hero stretched their limbs and suppressed a yawn. They stared at the doodles they had drawn on a few sticky notes.

They had subconsciously written the first letter of the villain’s name into the hearts.

Now, they really wanted to see their villain. They knew their lover was calculated and smart and capable but the hero needed to see that stupid smirk more than anything. All this talk about danger and death…

“Don’t worry, okay?” they asked and the henchman nodded. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

The hero stared at the doodles and smiled softly.

“Don’t you have a date to go on? Or is that tomorrow?” they asked.

“Tomorrow—” The henchman was still blushing when they stood up. “I should, uh, probably go. Again, you really helped me. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It was safe to say that the hero and the villain had lunch together.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

“Alright! Let’s just quickly go over your answers to our questionnaire in your application.”

As far as job interviews went, this one was rapidly moving up the list of utterly strange ones. For starters this was the fanciest office he had ever been in, and this was supposed to be an animal sanctuary. The amount of decorative pillows piled onto the chair he was currently trying to sit on would have been more appropriate for a lounge in a posh hotel.

The sanctuary manager – at least that’s how she had introduced herself – peered at the printed sheets of paper.

“So you have experience with animal handling?”

“During several internships, yes.”

“Wonderful. And horticulture?”

“I know how to keep a healthy habitat.”

“Excellent. And do you have any siblings?”

There it was, barely three questions in and already off the deep end. “Yes, three.”

The woman fixed two keen, dark eyes on him. “Three including you?”

“No, three besides me. I’m the second oldest, if that matters.”

“Ah! That’s alright then, Second of four, very good.”

By now he was looking at the manager with unrestrained wonder, eyebrows almost disappearing under his fringe.

“Well that all seems to be in order, just one more question—are you comfortable?”

He faltered, blinking. “I...well, to tell you to truth this chair could do with a few less pillows.”

To his amazement the manager’s face lit up with genuine delight. “Oh that is very good to hear. I do apologise for all that nonsense, but there’s rules against asking people about the circumstances of their birth, you know. Here, let me.”

He got to his feet, still rather stunned, and watched how the manager removed three pillows and, from underneath them all, a small green pea from his chair.

“There we are! Now, we’d be very glad to have you, you certainly meet all our qualifications, and I assure you we offer excellent terms and benefits. You clearly have plenty of experience with amphibians and birds, but you will need some on the job training, because apart from the usual frogs, swans and ravens, we also have clients in some of the rarer categories.”

“Clients? I thought this was an animal sanctuary,” he stammered.

“It most certainly is! Except our residents have not always been animals.” The manager smiled meaningfully. “You’d be surprised just how many people, especially royals, decide they would rather stay enchanted.” She looked a little embarrassed for a moment. “Which is of course exactly why I need to take certain precautions with my employees, you understand.”

He was pretty sure he did not at all understand, but he wasn’t about to admit that now. “Right.”

She peered at him again. “I do still need you to promise me not to fall in love with any of them.”

“Why on earth—”

“It’s happened before,” she said gravely. “We also have a couple of private parks, with a more human enclosure, I mean house, because we do get the occasional beastification.” She shook her head. “The last person we hired, well, our client was kind enough not to file an official complaint, on account of the whole finding his true love thing, but it was really very embarrassing.” He sat very still for a moment. “So, how many of those are there?”

“Beasts? Only two at the moment, since that unfortunate incident.”

“And your other...residents?”

“Hmm lets see, seven swans and seven ravens, three frogs, a stag, a hind, a fox and a bear. Well, and the cat, but she’s an exception, she lives in our head quarters and mostly looks after herself.” She gave him a rather worried look. “I haven’t scared you off, have I?”

He gave her a weak smile. “You promised me five weeks paid time off, so no you haven’t. But I am going to need some more information.”

“Wonderful,” she sighed. “In that case, let’s start with giving you a tour.”

[alexissara]

5 Years Of Three Houses, 5 Years Of Loving Edelgard.

5 Years ago today, I was first able to enter the continent of Fodlan, I meet Edelgard and from there I fell for a character in a way I never had before. I was already a professional writer with published worked and focused on Character driven work but I was still blown away by what an amazing character Edelgard was. 5 years ago, I got Engaged at a queer con, I was playing my 2nd route of three houses having played from Three Houses. The game was with me at this wonderful landing point in my life, it was there during the rough covid era struggles, when I was deeply, deeply sick, I was sicker than I ever been, not with Covid but with stomach issues and was hospitalized multiple times in one month ending in a surgery. I ran a roleplay inspired by Three Houses in Thirsty Sword Lesbians which I played for many years, I dated one of my exes through the whole campaign and grew a lot closer to one of my current girlfriends through it. I refined a version of one of my favorite OCs Ever Lena to do a Three Houses OC AU version of her for a different roleplay and while that fell through she did end up being used for that previously mentioned TSL game.

I reviewed Three Houses after finishing all four routes, I wanted to be really through and experience every route, every story, every FF romance arc, etc before I reviewed it. I gave the game a 7/10, I think now I'd give it an 8/10 maybe but a review score is what I think of the game as an overall package. The life changing power of Crimson Flower was really the big deal for me. That was 10/10, that was peak, it was just that the other routes were nowhere near as good for me. Edelgard the revolutionary who is happy to cast herself as a villain if that's what it takes to change the oppression in the world, something that was so strong, so powerful that it was reflected into our world. She was so good at being a character who impacted a fictional world, the only reason things happen at all that people to this day get angry about people loving her, discourse about her, cast her off, make up shit, show their political asses, etc. What a fucking character to be hated so strongly, for so long by this rabid group. Keeping love from a small fan base over time is hard but maintaining hate as a fictional character, that's harder especially with a 24/7 culture war of new women to hate. However, she also maintained love, Edelgard is the most popular character in all of Fire Emblem, in the 5 years she's got the most fan art, the most votes in CYL, she clearly makes nearly the most money in the gacha given how often they make new versions of her or rerun her, she is the moment.

Of course, it is not just Edelgard I love but the Black Eagles as a whole from the classic roster to the extended family of Mercedes, Lyesthia, Shamir, Leonie, to the Hopes additions of Monica and Shez. Edelgard stands so tall but she doesn't overshadow her amazing allies in changing the world. Even the men, me a famous not man enjoyer, finds at worst like, kinda boring rather than like repulsive. Plus I really love Hubert and Jeritza both as characters and think they are lovely, brilliant characters I wouldn't want to see replaced.

Three Houses hit me in a way "better" games haven't hit me in. I still think about the characters, the world, the politics, the ideas, the lore, the romances, everything so often, daily. I love so much art, most of this little blog is me talking about art I engaged with and I struggle to think of another piece of art that took me by storm in the same ways that Three Houses has. I'd love to have another game sweep me off my feet and have me giggling like someone who just met their idol but even if it doesn't happen again I am glad it happened with Three Houses.

Then there was Three Hopes and I fucking love Three Hopes, it only exists in the context of Houses but Scarlet Blaze and Golden Wildfire blew me the fuck away. Both routes do a ton for the characters in the series, the plots are fantastic, bringing Monica back and making her one of the best characters in the Fire Emblem series was so fucking great, and I adore the Warriors gameplay. Three Houses was a gift that not only gave itself but Hopes which really just furthered helped put Houses in focus, tie in way more lore, way more context, and way more information. I could explore the world of Fodlan even more honestly, I still hope for Hopes DLC because I just love this game.

It was so amazing to see Edeglard freed of Those Who Slither in the dark and the way her revolution works if she could just have saved her lesbian best friend and probably girlfriend. I loved to see the new amazing paralogues, the way the war shakes out, how she operates free of enemies resting in her house, how the nobles react when Edelgard is a free agent, the way the church fights back in this new time line. It really exciting and it is fun to see how the world once again revolves around the actions and moves of Edelgard and how she sets Fodlan Ablaze with change but now with more time to do things more carefully. It is such a great alterative look.

I don't have enough glowing things to say about Three Houses but I do have some things to say for the future of my favorite video game series. I deeply hope the future of Fire Emblem is more like Houses and not like the games around it. Houses was a return to form and the first story that blew me away since Radiant Dawn. I want more games that have the style and budget and scope and ambition of a Houses. I don't really trust intelligent systems to bring me that kind of story, so I hope they work with Koei again in the future and let their writers do their thing,

I love the smaller scale Fire Emblems but I can play indie games and smaller budget SRPGs and get the scope and ambition of a smaller scale Fire Emblem but only Nintendo money can bring the kind of game Houses is to the table. I really want to see the expensive class system brought back hopefully without the sexism and the big roster of characters and so much of the little things that made houses so charming. I don't need multiple routes but I would like a good political message like Crimson Flower to be in the future. I don't know if I'll ever love a character not made by me or my loves ones as much as I love Edelgard again but I want them try and I want them to pull it off.

Happy 5 Years Fire Emblem Three Houses, you are something special. If you want to see more of me gushing about houses you can read my fics here https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisSara/works?fandom_id=23985107

[pine-rhyme]

Pine I’m going insane please clear something up about tlt

I keep seeing art of two(?) v similar looking people, one with short hair and another with pigtails and I’ve seen both being referred to as Harrow or Nona or similar. I thought they were the same person (with Nona being a nickname of Harrowharks family name) but I saw some art that’d imply they’re two different people???

I always interpreted it as ‘Nona is what Harrow would be without the Horrors’ since she’s v cheerful. Like a sort of collective fandom oc. But now I think that’s wrong. Pls advise T^T

(Also hiiiiiiii hope you’re having a nice day ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́) )

OMG THANK YOU I AM SO GLAD I GET TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU BECAUSE THIS IS GENUIENLY MY FAVOURITE THING OUT OF THIS SERIES!!!!!

That and the wild contrast between Harrowhark and Nona makes me giggle maniacally every time.

Here is some sketchy art and rambling under the cut because I LOVE LOVE LOVE NONA!!!! And by extension the book she stars in!

Nona is a real character! But very well pointed that her name derives from Harrow's NONAgesimus! She is the narrator and main lady of the 3rd book (Nona the Ninth :DDD).

The thing about Harrow and Nona is that yes! They share the same body! Harrow is such a haunted character that it is already ridiculous how many other ghosts could take over her body if she falls unconscious (which already happened a few times and ngl it was very sexy).

But this time, in Nona's case it is unclear if it is one of her many ghosts piloting her body or if it is really Harrow whose trauma caught up with her and got her brain reset (you already know it wouldn't be her first rodeo given that she already has had the lobotomy experience :)) but the thing is, Nona can't remember a thing from before she got saved by Harrow's... friends? Acquaintances? People that owned her a favour?

The beautiful thing is that you have this vulnerable person, who doesn't know anything about herself is getting taken care of by these people that? Genuinely cared about the old Harrow? And are actively trying to figure out who Nona actually is. And how she can be helped. All we know is that Nona is uncharacteristically kind and sweet-natured for the tlt world :)))

She is deeply aware that she is unlikely to survive for much longer and experiences everything around her with a deep sense of wonder. She has only been alive for 6 months and it was a gift. The world is slowly crumbling around her and her body is slowly dying but she loves the people that take care of her nevertheless. She looks in the mirror and finds herself truly beautiful and she is openly grateful for the girl who let her borrow her body to experience this life. It is a bittersweet story and a very big tonal shift from the intense and alienating POV of the previous book (Harrow the Ninth), focusing more on the domesticity and closure nurtured in a wartorn refugee camp, between unlikely characters.

AND IT IS JUST HILLARIOUS to encounter characters with whom Harrow has been AT LEAST highly disagreeable, getting absolutely showered in affection by Nona. Nona herself being so full of love and admiration for everything and everyone she meets is just amazing when you remember that's HARROW'S body she's piloting. Harrow who is easily the most people-allergic character out of this whole series lmao. AND NONA IS WEARING HER HAIR LONG AND BRAIDED! AND PARADES AROUND IN THE MOST INSANE GRAPHIC T-SHIRTS. SHE WANTS TO DYE HER HAIR ELECTRIC BLUE LIKE HER CRUSH!

I absolutely love Nona she is my favourite character in this series. It is because of her that Harrow started to grow on me as well. It is just wonderful to find, after how distressed and alone Harrow is during the 2nd book, she has people that would go to such lengths to care for her, despite the fact that she lost her necromacy, genius and aptitudes, along with her memories and, in fact her body might be the only thing that remained out of her because, by the end, Nona might indeed be somebody else entirely.

More than that it is a story about a girl with no past and no future loving unconditionally and getting unconditionally loved in return by her friends and family. Even when it gets very complicated and twisted and at times you are forced to question what is everybody's hidden intentions or what is the meaning of it all. It is just as grim (and upsetting at times) as the rest of the series but having for once an optimistic pov (even tho it comes with her forcing herself to suppress her ugly feelings because her life is very short and she needs to enjoy everything while it lasts) feels almost like a fever dream.

"Life is too short and love is too long."

(This is Nona with Pyrrha! Pyrrha loves Nona so much it makes me sick to my stomach and I could talk for hours on end about them. )

Thank you so much for this ask and for indulging me in my madness!!!!!!! MMMMWAH!

[w1shes43]

Forbidden Proximity

- (TMR) Newt x reader

Summary: Takes place in "The Fever Code", before an examination test, you meet the beloved Newt. After meeting him, things start to be different and someone warned you to watch your proximity. But you think you're doing just the opposite.

Taglist: @heliads

A/N: AHHH, IT'S FINALLY FINISHED!! This fic took me so long. Motivation came and left like 1000 times. Sorry about that, and here it is!! Also, let's just imagine that newt is not like a minor here and is his movie age ;_; The ending is a bit rushed as I just wanted to get this fic finished tbh.

----☆----

Wake up, examinations and tests, eat food, maybe add a hint of some learning and then sleep. And it's repeating the same routine every day, over and over again. It's been like this for you ever since you got taken in this facility called W.I.C.K.E.D. They're not so harsh towards you but you saw and heard from others of what they can be like when they're angry so you usually do what you're told to be on their good side.

But life in this facility is very repetitive and dull so you always opt to do something fun once in a while, being extremely discreet of course. Whether it's going to see your friends in their rooms during night or sneaking to catch a look at the other group, Group A. You have to admit you don't know why you all have to be separated into different groups, maybe they don't want certain people interacting with each other? You found the question lingering in your mind for a while, so you plan to ask at your next examination, which is tomorrow, that very question.

You sat on your bed, waiting in your room for Dr. Paige to do some tests on you, observing around your room trying to pass time. You always seem to land on the clock. Time ticking like usual, you wondered how the clock can be so perfectly timed to the real time, but then again just another question to add to your pile.

"Questions and questions" you sighed, looking down at your feet, swinging them back and forth. You realised you were getting taller which makes you glad because Harriet used to tease you about your height, saying how you won't be able to reach anything. Guess you could prove her wrong now, you slightly chuckled at that.

The door opens and you look up thinking you were going to see Dr. Paige but instead a tall lady with round glasses. She had a firm look on her face as she approached you,

"Y/N, Dr. Paige is quite busy for a while so she won't be able to do your test right now."

She stated, looking at her clipboard which had some files on it, "She will do your examination in about half an hour. Please come with me to another test room."

You nodded as you got up from the bed to follow her out the door. She shut the door and you walked beside her as she brought you to the elevator and pressed a few buttons, you waited for about a minute and the doors opened to the 2nd floor. She ushered you to walk beside her as you looked around the 2nd floor, you've only been here once before and that was the first time you got examined.

You followed her into the first room on your right, and she told you to sit down and that she would inform you when Dr. Paige was here. As she left, you looked around the room and noticed that there was a blonde haired boy on the other side of the room, he had his head in his hands and he seemed to be the same age as you. You assumed both of you were here for tests.

You walked over to him and sat down on the empty chair beside him, the sound of the chair made him look up and he met your eyes.

"Oh hello there." The blonde smiled, you noticed he sounded a bit different, he definitely had an accent, not that you minded though it sounded nice. "You here for an examination too?"

You nodded and smiled back, "Yeah I am, how long have you been waiting here?" You asked, curious to talk to this boy.

"Probably been waiting for about 10 minutes?" He said, stretching his arms "I'm not really counting the time to be honest with ya, just waiting for this to be done and over with. So I can go and hang with my mates."

You raised an eyebrow, "Mates? What do you mean by that?"

"I mean my friends," he laughed, but then leaned in to whisper "We all usually hang out after our tests, obviously wicked doesn't know that, so keep it a secret for me and you could join us too." The blonde boy winked as he whispered the last part.

You chuckled, a corner of your lips developing a small smile. "Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me. And I didn't catch your name?"

"Name's Newt, pleased to meet you.. ?"

His sentence trailing off at the end in hopes of getting your name.

But before you could answer his last statement, the door swung open and you were greeted by two people, Dr. Paige and the other lady from earlier. They looked at the both of you and nodded to you, Dr. Paige calling your name as she was about to take your examination.

You nodded back to her and stood up from your chair, turning to Newt before you approached them, "Y/N. Pleased to meet you too." You smiled and waved at him as you followed behind Dr. Paige.

Your walk back to your room was silent, you usually would talk to Dr. Paige about a lot of things, how you were doing with learning and food or something along the lines of vital sign check ups. But this time you were silent, smiling to yourself as you thought about your encounter with the blonde boy, Newt was his name. Well not his actual name, as you knew they gave everyone different names but you thought it suited him, it was an oddly interesting name. To be honest you thought he was pretty cute too, you haven't talked to a boy your age since forever, before you even came to this place.

Smiling away to yourself must have caught Dr. Paige's attention as she talked to you as you both turned the hallway, heading to your room.

"Something on your mind Y/N? You look rather happy there." She spoke as she opened the door to your room, holding the door open so you could walk inside.

As you entered the room you sat on your bed, nodding to Dr. Paige's last statement.

She took a seat in front of you and got ready the equipment for your tests.

"Yeah I would say so, although I have a weird feeling in my stomach when I think about this certain … thing." You admitted, looking down at your feet and watching them swing back and forth again.

"Weird feeling in your stomach about a certain topic you say? Is this very recent or has this been happening for a while?" As she questioned you, she got ready the syringe for your injection and you took that as a sign to roll up your sleeve on your left arm.

"Quite recent. Actually right before you came to the room on the second floor."

She stopped and gave you a look.

"It's about Newt isn't it? That boy you met there?" She asked and her thoughts were confirmed when you looked at her and nodded. She sighed, "Y/N, that weird feeling you are talking about is called attraction or well starting out as a liking. We are specifically trying to prevent this though, it might interfere with your progress in tests. So please try not to think about him or even try to see him for that matter."

Dr. Paige had this firm look on her face, the one you heard about when Wicked employees got angry, you definitely didn't want to aggravate her even more but you still had to ask one more question, a very risky one considering the topic of the conversation.

"Dr. Paige, why do we have different groups, like why do you have to separate all of us?"

You looked at her eager for her answer as it could explain things. But she just pinched the bridge of her nose as she let out an annoyed sigh and with a sharp tone dodged your question.

"Y/N, enough questions. Remember you are here for one reason and that's to save the world. Everything we do is for your own good, be grateful you are even alive after what's going on out there." She snapped and looked you dead in the eyes.

Your eyes widened, you were stunned, Dr. Paige never raised her voice at you before. What was so wrong about the question you asked? You just wanted to understand their ways of running things, surely that's not a bad question but you assumed it was since she yelled at you.

She swiftly injected the needle into your arm, taking a blood sample for your test. And quickly put it into a plastic bag and sealed it inside another bag.

She turned around and headed for the door,

"I'll have some food delivered to your room so no need to go to the cafeteria for lunch. Remember Y/N, you're here to save the world, not question how things are."

And without another spoken word, she left and closed the door to your room.

You just stared at the closed door, pondering on what she said. You've always heard those words before 'Save the world.' How though? And wouldn't it be easier to save the world if we understood what's going on inside and outside? You scrunch your hair in annoyance and lay your head in your hands and thought for a bit.

You know what?

You were going to see Newt again.

But you have to think of a discreet way to meet up with him. How in the world are you even going to find him?

You could try and go back to that waiting room you were in earlier but chances are he's already gone and done his examination.

You usually catch a look at Group A, but that's through the vents and you don't really know your way around there as well as Harriet or someone else in your group.

As you try to think of ways to find him, your thoughts are interrupted when someone knocks on your door, it opens and it is one of your great friends, Harriet. You both smile and run for a hug, "How did your examination go?" Harriet asked, pulling away from the hug.

"I don't know what to think, I just hope I haven't angered Dr. Paige. But before the examination I was in a room and there was a boy there." You explained the whole thing, from meeting the boy Newt and to asking Dr. Paige about the 2 groups.

And this conversation led to Harriet coming up with a plan to sneak you into one of Group A's testing rooms in hopes of finding and meeting someone from the other group, or even better Newt.

She would start off by going to get some "lunch" and while doing that she would distract the guards so you could sneak into Group A's testing rooms. But you had to watch out for other employees that might leave the rooms and also cameras. But you would check every room and see if Newt is there.

Hiding behind corners and dodging employees wasn't easy, you were suprised that you even got this far. You looked around, no one. The employees may have taken a break or something, not that you minded, it made this a whole lot easier for you, less hiding.

...

"Well, hello there." A voice from behind you spoke. You jumped at the sudden sound, swiftly turning to see who had spoken and you had hoped that it wasn't Dr. Paige or any of the employees for that matter.

To your suprise, you were met with honey brown eyes, the same eyes of the boy you were looking for. At least you didn't have to look too far to find him.

"I thought I'd see you again, just didn't expect it to be so soon?" He raised a brow, inspecting you. But before he could ask any further questions, you pulled him into a nearby room.

"Okay before you ask anything, I need to make sure this room is safe before we get caught being somewhere we're not supposed to be." You explained, closing the door quickly and glancing around the room.

"Technically, you're not supposed to be here, but here we are." He smirked while you just rolled your eyes, he continued, "I mean, I'm not complaining and I think this room will be perfectly safe, considering that it's my room." He chuckled, and when you turned around with wide eyes, he just smiled.

"Well," you started, "I thought about your offer to join you and your friends and I gladly will." You smiled softly, but your smile grew even wider when you saw how the boy in front of you had a slight red face with another smile.

"You did all that effort to tell me this? You seem very dedicated Y/N."

Oh, you have no idea, you thought.

You spent what felt like hours with him, laughing along and chatting about anything under the sun. Even hearing a bit of his past but you didn't want to pry too much into it.

Your first meeting with Group A went quite well you would think, you quickly made friends with most them of them and even if Gally and Minho were quite skeptical of you at first, they warmed up to you eventually and even shared a couple of their jokes with you.

But as quickly as you made friends with them, the quicker your relationship with Newt grew to be stronger and you had hoped, he felt the same as you. Days turn into weeks and your time spent with him made your whole life better even if you weren't supposed to be of close proximity to him.

But as good things come, they always have to go. You found yourself running through the long bright lit corridors of the wicked facility.

Hoping to get there in time.

Hoping to get that one last chance.

Hoping you weren't too late.

With tear filled eyes, you start remembering the one memory you hoped would never leave you - Newt's confession.

One day, he pulled you aside when you were about to sneak out to go see all your friends.

He softly took your hands and placed them in his own.

"Um.. I don't know if you felt the same, but it did take me a while to realise it wasn't just some weird feeling I had about you, you made me feel like I could trust you, I felt..."

He scrunched his eyes in search of the right words to tell you, "Comfortable around you and safe, mainly safe. My point being, I like you. A lot, in fact, I can't really fathom why my brain works that way, but I hope you understand what I mean." His hope filled eyes begged you, not moving his worried scene that danced around his face.

You thought it was adorable and were quick to calm his worrying thoughts.

"Yes, I understand what you mean," you said with a laugh. "I feel the same way Newt."

How did wicked find out? But then again, they always are monitoring you. They always find out, or maybe they always knew.

Maybe you should have seen this coming.

But nothing always goes your way, you were aware of the Maze, they started sending your friends into one, a few weeks ago.

You were quickly made aware by some of your friends that they were going to send Newt into one. And not at the usual time he was supposed to go in. He was supposed to go a few weeks after.

You ran to the one place you knew you would find him before it would be too late. The hideout.

When you entered, you found him pacing around the room. He heard your footsteps and looked up and locked his dark eyes with you.

Just by looking at him, without even saying anything, you knew what he was thinking, and you wanted to save him from all this.

"Don't leave, why can't you just stay here?" You pleaded with him, grabbing his hands to curl them up into yours. "We could leave, run away right now, or even -"

He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you like you're his source of life. You went silent and returned the hug. It was quiet for a good while, and you felt as if the white noise could swallow you both whole until Newt spoke.

"I want you to know that even if I die, or something happens and I might never see you again," his breath hitched in his throat, eyes dreading even the thought of it, "Nothing would ever make me forget you. I would go to the ends of the earth just to do this all over again if it meant being by your side, being here with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Tears that have flowed down his cheeks have now dripped onto the cold floor. The same room, same building that you first met, the sweet hearted boy. Even if you didn't know what would happen next, you knew for certain you loved him.

You knew you were never meant to be near him in the first place, but you did just the opposite.

"I'll love you forever and always."

He wiped the oncoming tears from your eyes with his thumb and smiled. You wish you could just capture this moment and stay with him forever.

The doors opened, and your warm hands quickly became cold as the warmth from him slowly drifted away from you.

[heartofwritiing]

Hello!!! I saw that Lovejoy was being interviewed by MTV and I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is an interviewer and interviews them and Wilbur is like flirting with them the whole time, I totally understand if you don’t write it. You’re an awesome writer by the way:))

first omg thank you for saying im an awesome writer! i really appreciate it!! 🥹 second; THIS RIGHT HERE I will try my best since I don't really know how to write flirty but I hope you like it anyways!!

*I tweaked it a little that the reader is a fan of lovejoy but thats just me self reflecting… also this is unedited and kinda rushed so please forgive me if its not good and there are any mistakes!

musicianbur x fem!reader

-

“We are here with lovejoy at the biggest festival in new york city!” you didn’t try to hide your excitement as you spoke so enthusiastically into the microphone and looking directly into camera.

Lovejoy was one of your favorite up-and-coming bands. Working for an independent entertainment network gave you some advantages when meeting people in the industry you admired. But doing an exclusive interview with Lovejoy, you couldn’t wrap your head around. Since you first started listening to their music, you were so enthralled by their sound and lyricism, how could you not be a fan.

“How are you guys this hot afternoon?” you giggled and held the microphone towards the person standing closest to you, Wilbur. The lead singer of the band.

You would be lying if you didn’t find him attractive at all when you were standing right next to him. You couldn’t deny the nerves in the pit of your stomach standing so close to him that your arms bushed.

Following down the line were; Ash, Mark, and Joe at the end. They all chuckled at your remark about the weather and nodded in greeting.

“We're doing good! Just got off stage and feeling great! This is- well most of us anyways- first time in new york so we're excited to be here. ” Joe answered.

You nodded and brought the microphone back over to yourself.

“I was watching your whole set, and I gotta say, you guys were incredible! I am such a huge fan of you guys! I'm kinda freaking out that I get you to interview you!”

Other interviewers would always say that in apathetic tones but Wilbur could tell from the smile that graced your lips and sparkling eyes, your words were genuine.

“thank you so much, glad to meet a fan.” Wilbur winks. You almost stutter out the next question but play it off by clearing your throat, hoping the mic didn’t catch your falter.

“I know you guys love your fans, and they love you tenfold, so I imagine getting to meet them is such a great experience so, Do you have a favorite fan interaction?"

Mark was the one who answered the question first, but Wilbur wasn't listening to his response because he could not take his eyes away from you. In addition to being polite and praising their work so graciously, he also thought you were extremely attractive. Everything from your hair framing your face to your beautiful smile seemed to pull him closer to you like a magnet.

Wilbur's eyes burned into your skin while he watched you listen to Mark intently. You could feel him staring at you and it wasn't making you uncomfortable, but it made your pulse race in excitement. glancing at Wilbur briefly, He held your gaze for a few seconds before looking away quickly as he had gotten caught. You couldn't help but the mixture of thrill and confusion that washed over you. You knew something was happening between you two, but you weren't sure what it was.

Mark finished his response, then each member had answered until you had to hold the microphone up to wilbur for his reply.

"Yeah, I love every interaction I get with fans, especially when they're so genuine and lovely,"

You do not know why your mind automatically associated that with you, maybe it was the slight tone in Wilbur’s voice that gave you the impression.

At some point during the interview, Wilbur moved closer to you. Bystanders would see him shifting his feet to debauch his nervousness, but you understood what he was doing was on purpose trying to closer to you. The nearness between you made your face flush, and your heart quicken. You weren't sure what to do with yourself as every time you leaned over to let the others speak into the mic you were unintentionally brushing against Wilbur.

Sadly, the interview had to come to an end after you asked some questions that were sure to satisfy your producer’s. With an outro and a ‘cut’ from the camera man, you had called it a wrap.

Bidding your goodbyes to the band with firm handshakes and your genuine congratulations to their success you had finished your time with them.

When you turned to walk away to help finish packing up the equipment, a voice calling your name made you turn around in surprise.

Wilbur was jogging over to you with a nervous smile and reaching a hand over to you. He seemed like he had something on his mind he wanted to tell you so it was his turn to ask you a question. You waited with bated breath.

“I was wondering if I could get your number? if not I totally get it. I think you’re really nice and would maybe like to get coffee with me sometime?” Wilbur asks, shoving his hands in his jean pockets and rocking on his feet. It was honestly so adorable how anxious he was.

You on the other hand couldn’t believe the leader singer of your favorite band was asking you out- not asking you out- it was just your number and coffee. Maybe something more if you were lucky but, you wouldn’t get your hopes up.

There was no harm in accepting his offer to take you out so you simply said;

“I would love to,” Reaching for your phone in your back pocket, you handed him the device and he typed his number into your contacts.

Once he was finished, he passed your phone back to you and grinned, like he had just won the lottery he was so happy.

“I’ll text you so I can let you know when Im free!” you say, sliding your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. Wilbur nods.

“We leave in a few days, end of the tour so we get a few days off before flying home so i have plenty of time to see you.”

“Im looking forward to it,” you say and his smile brightens somehow.

With a quick hug and ‘message you soon’, you both say your goodbyes when you get an all clear from your crew the van is ready to go.

Wilbur went back to join in with his group falling into conversation. With one final wave as you both gave each other one last look of longing, you climbed into the van being greeted by air conditioning and sat back with a sigh.

You couldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach as you drove off from the thought of the next time you would see Wilbur soot again.

[putschki1969]

2024/09/27 Wakanaとみんなで行って来た！屋形船でまんぷくに！！〜一日目の巻〜

❗This is Fan Club EXCLUSIVE content❗ ❗PERSONAL USE ONLY❗ ❗Do NOT SHARE on other sites❗ ❗Join her FAN CLUB! Check out my detailed TUTORIAL ❗

Let's All Go Together! On A Houseboat Full-Course Tour!! 〜Day 1〜

The other day, my “Join Wakana! Houseboat Full-Course Tour” ended successfully after two eventful days ＼(^o^)／I had so much fun that time went by in a flash…just like a live show😂

I'd like to look back on these two fun days and share a lot of photos with you! First, I'd like to talk about the Day 1 event which took place in the evening😊Here's the meal I've been looking forward to for a long time! Huge tempura!! 🍤🍤🍤 So crispy!! A variety of amazing dishes!! 😭✨Take a look at this big ~Menu~. I'm so happy that we were able to do justice to the tour name by having so many different courses😊

I am saying my greetings to all participants of Day 1✨Cheers!! ♪(^^)o∀∀o(^^*)♪ Everyone seemed to enjoy their meal which made me very happy♪ We were all divided into groups at each table. Since there were a lot of solo attendees, I wondered what it would be like for them~?😳 Even though, some of them were meeting each other for the first time, everyone seemed to enjoy pouring drinks for each other and chatting. I was relieved to see you getting along with each other😊As expected, all my Botanical companions are full of kindness!! ＼(^o^)／Thank you!! ＼(^o^)／💕

We all got to enjoy the night view of Odaiba while feeling the night breeze on the boat♡ On that day, it was pretty windy and rainy in the morning so I was quite worried about our little boat trip…😱 I couldn't help but feel anxious💦 But just in time for the boarding, we were able to see the most beautiful sunset once the sky had cleared up a bit. The temperature was just right with a nice breeze. I think everyone enjoyed watching the sunset while waiting for the boat…😊(I was secretly watching everyone on board from afar and waving at you.) Anyway, I'm glad it was sunny😊💕

Here's a picure of Rainbow Bridge as seen from the houseboat🌉 And he Fuji TV building was shining brilliantly📺 There were many houseboats all around us ♪

We did a Q&A corner! It was fun😂But of course, the best thing about this houseboat was karaoke!! After boarding, we distributed a song list to everyone, and each table got to choose one song they wanted to hear. They all wrote their request on a little board we provided🌟(Here's one of the request boards. A fan drew this cute picture!) Here I am during the karaoke session🎤The song choices were well-balanced and varied, which was fun. Unfortunately, we all struggled a lot with the karaoke machine on Day 1🤣 I didn't know that I had to "select the original key," so I was confused when I kept getting a key that was too low for my voice. As for the microphone, I wanted to sing close to the speaker, but there was always feedback…It was difficult to find a goof position that didn't cause any trouble💦After a lot of trial and error, I ended up singing with my back facing the audience😂😂 Sorry to everyone behind me…😭😭Actually, the mystery was solved the following day. It seems that the houseboat karaoke machine is designed for people to sit while singing. Makes sense if you think about it. But at that time I wasn't able to figure it out at all🤣 That's why every time I stood up to sing, I got this horrible feedback *sobs*. But eventually, I found a good position that worked for me so I didn't leave that spot for the remainder of the karaoke session🎤At the end of Day 1, I found a wonderful message by a fan…😭✨A rabbit and sharks🦈🦈Thank you for the message😊

I chose this yukata for Day 1 because the yellow flowers were cute🌼I used a gyoza ornament for the obidome🥟This is actually a gyoza magnet that I received from a fan. I had it attached to my obidome🥟My manager actually helped me put on the yukata‼ ️＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／Some of the participants came to the event in kimonos and yukatas, it's amazing that you can put them on by yourself…😳 I'm jealous😳

All right, that was Day 1 of my “Join Wakana! Houseboat Full-Course Tour” ･:*+.(( °ω° ))/.:+ Next time I'll write about the event on Day 2 which took place during the daytime.

~To be continued~

Last but not least! Today, the key visual for "Wakana Classics 2024", was released, so I thought I'd talk a little bit about it here ♡ Sorry for the sudden departure from my houseboat stories😂For the photo shoot, I got to wear a beautiful dress again✨ It was raining really hard that day but thanks to my photographer who always brings the sun with him, it ended up being sunny! 😍 I'm glad we were able to take many pictures outdoors surrounded with greenery🌿 Actually, the composition of this key visual is pretty much the same as the one for my May live. I'm even looking in the same direction😊 This year, I was able to safely celebrate my 5th Anniversary as a solo artist. I'm looking towards the future, at all the things that I believe await me beyond today, "sono saki e". Believing that there is an even bigger world waiting for us "beyond," gives me the courage to continue to forge ahead with all of you. Please continue following me‼️＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

Well, that's all for today! Until next time~☆( '▽')/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

2024/09/28 Wakanaとみんなで行って来た！屋形船でまんぷくに！！〜二日目の巻〜

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Let's All Go Together! On A Houseboat Full-Course Tour!! 〜Day 2

Well, today I'd like to talk about Day 2 of “Join Wakana! Houseboat Full-Course Tour”! This time, the event took place around noon‼︎＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／It rained from the morning on this day as well (why!😂) and I wondered what would happen but thankfully…the sun came out just in time！！ ！ ！ ＼(^o^)／The view from the houseboat was the same Odaiba area, but during the day, it was completely different from the previous night's view. Such a refreshing blue sky! The Rainbow Bridge♪ And Fuji TV📺Look at those beautiful clouds…😍The sun was bright, but there was a lovely breeze, very pleasant〜😊

On the second day, I wore a grape🍇 patterned yukata🤗 Here I am filming something for my FC video section! 🎥 (please be patient and wait a little while longer)

My Botanical companions of Day 2 were watching over me with smiles on their faces😂Thank you everyone〜😆Here's a photo of everyone on the boat on Day📸Cheers‼️♪(^^)o∀∀o(^^*)♪ Everyone was just as energetic as during Day 1‼︎😊I'm actually jealous that you were all drinking alcohol in the daytime😍 (I just had oolong tea!) Once again I was looking forward to the freshly fried tempura!! 🍤💕I was so happy to see them bringing out all the delicious fried food…😭✨

It goes without saying that we were able to enjoy the view outside better than at night. I was also surprised at how fast we were going😳 I had a blast eating amazing food and looking at the gorgeous view 😊(Here's a lovely photo taken by my manager📸 Kind of looks like Spirited Away)

On Day 2, I finally learned how to use the karoake machine properly so I sang while sitting in the request karaoke corner😂I tried a few different sitting positions *laughs* Look at my half-sitting posture🤣🤣So innovative! I got to sing in a great place again😁🎶I wonder if it's okay to have karaoke sessions like this more often? Where I can just casually do whatever I want🎤*laughs* Sorry to everyone who only got to look at my back😂 I got another cute picture drawn on one of Day 2's request boards😊Amagi-Goe by Sayuri Ishikawa! It was fun to sing enka in front of everyone for the first time🎤

At the end of both days, there was a big raffle corner in which I gave away parts of my precious Pothos to two people each day! It's growing fast so I have to cut it regularly. It was the perfect timing to cut off a few parts for you😊 I actually bought my Pothos baby at "Shibuya Engei". My trip was featured in Botanical Tsushin Vol.12! Page 17!! (Look how tiny it was!😳By the way, the pot in the photo has since been repurposed for another baby of mine, a plant called Agave Titanota🌱) If you put a cut part of my Pothos into water, this is what will happen…! ＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／Once the roots have grown, you can just change the water about once a month (it's okay if you forget to do it occasionally) By the way, I did an experiment to see if roots would grow from just the leaves, and they did! ＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／That's amazing 😳To the four people who won parts of my Pothos, please take care of them and let them grow 😊💕And please don't worry, it's okay if they die! Plants are sensitive to their environment, so they die all the time! But once they find a place they like, they'll grow really big! I hope you have fun growing plants‼ ︎😍Everyone else, if you're interested, please also try growing a Pothos🌿

Finally, here are some of my stuffed animals. I had them on display all over the boat! So cute~🤤💕🐙🦈I put a lot of them around the karaoke machine too🦈In fact, I also placed a Kaito Kid plushie all the way in the back (￣▽￣) Thank you everyone for the fun time over the course of those two days‼ ︎‼ ︎‼ ︎･゜ﾟ･:.｡..｡.:･'(ﾟ▽ﾟ)'･:.｡. .｡.:･゜ﾟ･

It was my first time planning an event like this but we all had fun eating, talking about all sorts of things, taking pictures, singing songs… It was great😂I also got a lot of presents from you…😭✨My Botanical companions are always so kind and warm, you make my heart feel at ease😊Thank you so much!!! I'll keep thinking of more fun fan club activities for you! ! ! ＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／Hopefully we can get back together soon!!

〜The end〜

Today, the advanced ticket lotteries on various ticket platforms for "Wakana Classics 2024" have started! 🎻🎹🎶Let's spend time together surrounded by music at Wakana Classics at the end of yet another year ('▽')

[Date] December 18th; Open at 17:45 / Start 18:30 [Venue] Hamarikyu Asahi Hall (Music Hall) [Performers] Vocals: Wakana Music Director/Piano: Sin (Hashimoto Shin) Violin: Yanagihara Yuya Cello: Nishikata Masateru

And since this concert marks the end of my 5th year as a solo artist, I decided to create a special music box to commemorate the anniversary‼ ︎･:*+.(( °ω° ))/.:+ The song is "Sono Saki e"😊 I told the team I'd like to have a design inspired by stained glass. They really did a great job with the pattern on the top and the illustration in the box😭✨I hope you will enjoy this commemoration of my 5th Anniversary. Matching the title of the song "Sono Saki e"🌟, I'd like to convey all my thoughts for the future with this.

[Pre-order] Wakana 5th Anniversary "Sono Saki e" music box

And finally! I'd like to remind you of the submission deadline for this month's podcast talk theme!! ＼＼\٩( 'ω' )و //／／This time the main topic is "Everyone's Rules of Healthy Living"! Do you take a walk every day? Or do you drink anything special?! Maybe you always try to remember to smile? Things like that...Please let me know what you all do to stay healthy😉

▼Next talk topic -Everyone's Rules of Healthy Living -Any Questions for Wakana https://wakana-fc.jp/answers/botanical_oshaberi_14/new

So, that's it for today!! Until next time~☆( '▽')/

＊＊＊Wakana＊＊＊

[beyondbinaries]

I'm posting this a bit early in case the 12th isn't a good mental health day. And I'm sorry if the random tag is annoying or if this post takes up too much space on dash.

On Oct 12 2016, I made a coincedental decision that has changed my life as a whole. A choice that has led me to so much pain but also so many happy memories and irreplcable friends. I made my pfp on Quotev a Genis Sage picture and somehow ended up involved in a Symphonia rp group 💕.

I had loved Genis as a character since I was a child watching my sister play at my Nanny's (my cousin would always delete her save before we even reached triet) and when we got a copy of the game when I was around 11/12 I had him on my team for the most part. It was my fascination with half elves and the mysterious Kharlan War Era that led to the creation of Mana, Oracle, Lee, 3rd, and Sunny. But those were all just childish writing in a notebook I hid from the world. Im sure lil me would die on the spot to hear that they are charas so many people know. I always knew that I loved to write but it was for charas like Sherlotta who were niche and not from a series as big as Tales so I never wrote Genis. Well until that day, I was too awkward to tell them I wasnt an rp blog and fully committed to it.

And look where that has led me. Here to you all. This journey may have been long and filled with things I'd never wish on anyone but I'm happy. So many of you have encouraged me and been there for me. I love and appreciate you all. Under the cut imma try to have things for a lot of you all word wise as gratitude. But thank you all so much, there are no amount of words or tangible sentences to express how much you all mean to me. And a happy birthday to my Genis interp who I wish i still wrote

@pyonpyonpyon ; Yuki youve been around since I started on here and damn time sure does fly. Thank you for always sticking around and plotting some of the most insane relations w/ me (Moe and Yuuri family) and dealing with tye silly kyubey meming I did back in 2017 (its been that long)

@mermaus ; sobs you know how much i lov and appreciate you but I will reiterate here... Lena you have stood by me for so much, have made my day so many times, etc. You are one of the most talented people on this website and in general? You are funny, kind, brave, strong, amazing. Im forever thankful to have met you and to be in your life. I am so eagerly awaiting the day we can meet and I can hug you irl.

@strebcr ; Pineapple !!! I am so so glad to have reconected with you! You are truly an amazing person and i am forever blessed to be considered your friend.

@in-sum ; Puyo !! Sobs I am so glad we were able to reconnect again, you are an amazing friend and you are always there for me. Youve stood in my corner when I was going through some of my worst times and I am forever grateful. You are talented and kindhearted and you stand up for what you believe is right.

@malusrecord / @constellationcrowned ; Kala!!!!!! It goes without saying how amazing of a writer and person you are. You bring so much life to your characters and it truly shows. I always find myself reading and rereading your posts when I am active on dash. You deserve all the good things in the world. And thank you so much for being my fren, I will always enjoy our dms and learning more about series i never thought I'd enjoy.

@ervaurem ; Shai!! I appreciate ypu so heckin much, you are such a kind and thoughtful person. I adore your presence on my dash and i adore the bonds between our characters. You've been there for me for such a long time now and I cant ever thank you enough..

@ofstarsandskies , @mathcs , @altosk , @cataclysmus , @talesofourworlds , and @broadswordandpistol ; a big catch all for all the wonderful people I met during festitales, despite how rough i am forever thankful for the oppurtunity I was given to force others into my point and click dm style of adventure. I have so much I cam say to each n every one of you 🥺

@solivcgant ; Mochi Mochi!! I am so sorry for the crimes Mana has committed against food and Eiji's mental health (eggbear eggs painge). I enjoy your presence and dog memes so much. You are so cool amd amazing aaa.

@twinklesofhope ; Ringo!! You are so talented and seeing you around makes me so happy.

@canidgrit / @nickitsden ; Fox!!! Hi we don't write together often but you are such a joy to see on my dash.

@biisutoarm ; Red!!! Hewwo hewwo, i love your Elfman so much he is such a treat and seeing him on dash always brightens my day. You are such a talented writer !

@osovereign ; Rinni! Hi hello, you are such an amazing and wonderful person. I have a lot of fun dming and writing with you. Its so nice to write with you again (I found a draft from like Jan 2017 on an old blog for you and i had to stop and stare at it lol--). I appreciate you so much and I hope to keep expanding Kratos' collection of poor Mana art.

@ednaeflowers ; Jenny!! Hi!! I know we aren't all that close or anything but you are such a delight to see on my dash. The Eizen and Edna thread we have is near and dear to my heart. I also really appreciate Mana and Edna's little friendship thing. I just really love your Edna interp 🥺, you are so talented and I appreciate you.

And to anyone else who read this far down, I love and appreciate you so much. Even if we don't speak or really write together. I genuinely believe each and every person I follow are talented individuals.

[allastoredeer]

The last chapter was pure gold!!!

I love how Alastor just ignores Vox existence, or at least he tries lol

And I got the feeling Al mistunderatood the “What the hell does Lucifer have that I don’t!?” With ‘what does the hotel have that they don’t’, which it’s not any better agahah Vox is so delusional

It’s such a shame he didn’t say that in front of the other overlords, it would have been such a good laugh and maybe the end of the vees?!

Also I love how u write Alastor, beside his pain he hasn’t stop smiling even a second, and let’s be honest his was such a comeback. He definitely knows how to entertain, also I got the feeling that when he attacked velvette he was trying to repay Carmille a little, cause she tried to protect his privacy more than one time during the meeting and yeah Al, Charlie is definitely rubbing off on you.

“Well, these meetings sure are getting shorter and shorter,” Totally sent me rolling laughing. He is so right tho

I wonder how Luci is gonna take this plan of his, cause I don’t think he will accept it with open arms. And I honestly don’t know if Al has something to offer the king of hell to make such a deal …but it’s undeniable that he has a soft denial spot for Al, so who know he might actually go with it👀

I just have a question, are they gonna get together in the end? Or is it just gonna be a long slow burn. Either way I am enjoying this a lot. Can’t wait for more

Hahaha, Alastor was trying SO hard to ignore the petty little TV man. He wants to talk about Charlie's hotel and go home, please and thank you.

And LOL yeah I'm glad you picked up on that. Alastor still thinks Vox is referencing working together, not the insinuation that Vox wants something more between them. To Alastor, it sounds like Vox is trying to imply that he can do "so much better" with his alliances; whereas Vox thinks Alastor knows--a least a LITTLE--about Vox's crush, but is playing it off like its nothing, which makes him even more furious.

Hahah I was so excited to write his clapback to the Vee's. He knew that if they showed up, they were going to bring up the fight with Adam, and he needed to be prepared. People start beef with him, but you better damn well believe he'll end it. Carmilla definitely enjoyed the clapback too. For a sinner she certainly has the patience of a saint.

But I also don't think she actually respects the Vee's. They're just entitled, spoiled little children in her eyes. They're a group she doesn't feel the need to expend her energy on, because, well, what's the point? She doesn't have a high enough opinion of them to do so.

Alastor and Lucifer's conversation in the next chapter was very fun to write. These two can't be left unsupervised because it's just going to end in a fistfight. They're constantly ready to throw hands and I love it.

I am writing this with the end goal being them getting together! It will be a slow-burn though 😂 I'm really gonna go into Alastor exploring his ace/aro'ness, what being in a relationship means for him. and what he wants out of a relationship. On the flipside, I'm gonna explore Lucifer's thoughts and feelings about slowly falling for a sinner (who HAS done terrible things) and what he thinks that says about himself--he has had a very negative view about sinners for thousands and thousands of years, and a mindset like that isn't going to change overnight.

So, they're both definitely going to be exploring different parts about themselves that this relationship forces them to address. And I'm very excited to get into it!

I think the tag "Lucifer Fell First But Alastor Fell Harder" is going to be very apt for this fic series.

[robin-the-enby]

Hello!! Could I request some sweeney todd x reader heavy fluff please? thanks!

Marked by an angel

Pairing: Sweeney Todd x gn!reader

Smmary: A chance meeting of two strange people on Fleet street. What started just as part of your job lead you to finding a new friend and perhaps...a lover.

Warnings: hints of murder (it's Sweeney, c'mon), unfair boss/employee dynamic, description of getting robbed and bruises (1 blackeye)

A/N: After what felt like an eternity, I am back! I am so glad I finished this. I was dealing with mental issues, financial struggles, work and uni so I had no time and time or energy to do anything. But I am very happy to post this! Maybe it's not as fluffy as you wanted and for that I am sorry, but I feel like it is as true to the character as possible :) I'll gladly hear your feedback on this piece and all likes, but especially reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Also, if you'd like to hear some bonus stuff about this oneshot, feel free to shoot me a message!

There are many men in the world. And yet you can't say you've ever met anyone the likes of Mr. Todd.

The quiet barber from Fleet street. With his pale complexion, white streaked hair and dark eyes that held the depths of the ocean that surrounds Britain. He had captured your attention the very first time you made an appointment with him for your boss. The recommendations for his shop floated around your part of town and all the gentlemen could not seem to praise his skills enough.

Your boss had ordered you to find him a new barber, since his old one was ripping him off on money. Not that you blamed the poor bloke, times were tough, prices high and it wasn't like your boss couldn't spare a few pounds, especially since he liked to have his hair and beard trimmed once a month. Luckily, you managed to talk him out of getting the authorities involved, knowing that if the man was to be jailed, it would take a massive toll on his family.

Your job as an errand person, a sort of secretary, was simple enough in theory. You followed your boss around, a businessman dealing in produce from a few farms that he owned in the countryside. All you had to do was carry a notepad and a pencil with you to scribble down tasks that had to be managed and appointments that had to be made or dealt with. But in reality your legs were probably stronger than most people's, with how many steps you walked every day. Even though it wasn't in your job description, you did everything your boss didn't want to, went everywhere he wasn't exactly needed. You swore that the lazy bastard would have you walking to the latrine instead of him, if it were possible.

That was one of the reasons you liked the visits to the barber's, because you got to just sit on a chair by the window for an hour at least, quietly listening to the conversation made between your boss and the man grooming him, only occasionally having to scribble down one thing or another. But ever since your boss started to frequent Mr. Todd's shop, the rest wasn't the only reason accompanying your boss there was enjoyable or you.

Mr. Todd was an enigma. Mostly silent during work and outside of it, you learnt to appreciate the sound of his voice and to study his body language, little quirks that gave off pieces of his personality. The way his eyes flitted around, scanning the face of his customer for any imperfections that needed to be dealt with. His hands were steady, working seemingly without relying on his eyes or even brain, with a level of discipline you haven't seen before in your life. And from time to time, his eyes would flick up to meet yours, for a fraction of a second, before falling back down to your boss, lounging on Mr. Todd's intricate chair. You wondered why it had to be so intricate, compared to other barbers you've seen in your career, but you didn't question it, just as you never questioned the way the man's eyes would inevitably get stuck on your boss' neck every once in a while for some reason that had yet to reveal itself to you.

Maybe it was morbid curiosity or some other strange pull that made you want to find out just what was the cause of the deep emotion swirling behind Sweeney's eyes. The kind of pull that made sure the mysterious barber did not leave your mind for longer than a few hours. So you started to come around to the meat pie shop right under Mr. Todd's. The shop owner, Mrs. Lovett, was a sweet and terribly lonely woman, whose meat pies were, also, quickly gaining popularity around its part of town, and it didn't take long for her to take a shine to you as soon as she recognised you as one of her regulars.

While making a new friend wasn't your primary goal when you started hanging around the pie shop, you didn't mind how Mrs. Lovett warmed up to you. She was a sweet and funny woman, in her own way, and you soon recognised she was also dealing with romantic feelings towards Mr. Todd, as she confided in you one day. These feelings were unreciprocated, as far as you knew, although Sweeney visited the shop every night, coming down to fetch his dinner, for free of course. He usually came around after closing his own shop, sometimes even later, when even Mrs. Lovett closed down for the night. He would walk past you two sharing a glass of wine and exchanged a quiet and smooth, although cold 'good evening', before taking a pie and disappearing upstairs again.

But the longer you kept visiting Mrs. Lovett, the more Sweeney started to notice you. Once in a blue moon he would share a glass of wine with you both as you would more or less listen to Minnie ramble about this and that. After some time, one night, when Sweeney was upstairs and you were spending an evening at the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett told you cheekily that Mr. Todd asked about you, how you and her met and why you were around so much. Despite her mischievous smile you felt as if he was wary of your presence here, which puzzled you, but it did not deter you from wanting to get to know the man more.

In the end, it was him who made the first move, and you didn't even realise until much later. One time, when you were accompanying your boss for his monthly trim, Sweeney suggested that he should come around more often, at least every two weeks, because it would do wonders for his hair and beard health. It was evident your boss had no idea whether that was true or not, so he looked at you for confirmation. You shared a look with the barber, through which you tried to communicate to him that if he was planning to swindle your boss, it would be on your head, but something in those dark eyes of his made you trust him, so you confirmed to your boss that yes, coming to the barber more often would not only be beneficial to his hair, but it would also be good for appearances.

From that point on you got closer with the barber much faster than you could even register. One night, as you were sitting at the table in the pie shop across Minnie, nursing your second glass of wine and venting out frustration from your job, Sweeney came down to get his dinner. Before he left though, he stopped in the door to the kitchen, where the pies were made, and stared at you for a while, gaze calculating, but not as cold as you were used to. With the alcohol flowing through your veins you called him out on it, to which he simply replied "Your hair. It would do good with a trimming." before turning around on his heel and walking out. Mrs. Lovett cursed his lack of etiquette and assured you that you looked fine, although getting a trim wouldn't be a bad idea. She knew that given what your job was, you didn't have much time left to treat yourself.

The next time you accompanied your boss to his barber appointment yet again, Sweeney brought up the subject as your boss left you to pay. "Have you thought about my offer?" You blinked up at him, not knowing for a second what he meant, before his eyes shifted to your hair and you understood what he was implying. Feeling the heat rising to your cheeks, you tried to keep your cool as you asked, just to be sure "You meant that you would trim my hair?" You didn't want your voice to come out as unsure and surprised as it did, but if Sweeney noticed it, and something told you he did, the barber didn't mention it or let it show. He only smirked the slightest bit, making you wonder later if you didn't just imagine it, and replied "Well, at this point I would be offended if the first person you tasked with such a job wasn't me. Or do you deem my skills inadequate?" he raised his brow as he jokingly asked, knowing well what your answer would be. Feeling as hot as a boiled potato, you quickly settled the date of your appointment before you were out the door, so that your boss wouldn't scold you for dilly dallying.

When the day of your appointment came, you felt strangely nervous, your legs slightly shaking as you walked up the stairs to Sweeney's dark shop. For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling of cattle being herded to a butcher. You chalked it up to your crush making you nervous, but that feeling only intensified when Sweeney positioned the barber chair you had sat on, so that you were half laying down. And yet when he tended to your locks, his touch was soft, quick and precise, never wandering where it didn't need to and leaving as soon as he was done in one area, moving swiftly to another. What came as a surprise to you was that he made small talk with you the entire time you were in that chair. Maybe it was because he sensed your nerves, but maybe not, you really couldn't tell. He asked you where you came from, why were you in London of all places, he even asked about your job and your family. The last topic he brushed upon quickly, which made you suspect it was a tough subject for him, an information you filed away safely in your brain to mull over later.

The last thing he told you when you were done and admiring yourself in the mirror he provided was to not tell Mrs. Lovett who cut your hair. You nodded softly and made your way home, feeling like a brand new person. Although the next time you set foot in the pie shop, Minnie's first question was "Did Mr. Todd cut your hair? It looks wonderful, darling!" You didn't confirm nor deny her rhetoric question, only smiling a bit bashfully before Mrs. Lovett insisted on opening 'the good wine' for the occasion. You didn't mention the fact that he refused to take payment for the service...

And as if that wasn't enough embarrassment in the short amount of time, this night at Minnie's pie shop turned out to have gone on much longer than any other one. Mrs. Lovett insisted you stay a bit longer any time you brought up going home for the night. Her reasoning being that since you finally did something for yourself after what must've been quite a long time in her opinion, you deserved to treat yourself some more, because when would an opportunity like this arise again?

And so you stayed seated in the dimly lit pie shop that smelled of baked meat, the likes of which you have never smelled before, and a mixture of herbs that reminded you of a memory long buried in your mind.

The conversation flowed freely and as the alcohol made its rounds through your bloodstream, your tongue became looser, as well as did Minnie's. She told you how her attempts at wooing Mr. Todd were progressing, or rather, were stagnating, with the man ignoring any and every romantic gesture or hint made towards him by his friend. That brought you to joining her in her admiring words for the handsome barber, leading to many laughs and jokes. Maybe it was because of her tipsy state, but you were surprised Mrs. Lovett took your admission of your crush on her upstairs neighbour better than you expected.

Your conversation then moved elsewhere and you were both so engrossed in it that neither of you heard the quiet footsteps leading to the shop. Sweeney's brows rose a little as he opened the door to a peculiar sight. The two people he had allowed closer to himself than anyone else since his return to London were sitting huddled at a table, which wouldn't have been that unusual, if it wasn't for the nearly empty bottle of old and undoubtedly strong wine. Both of your glasses were somewhat filled, the precious liquid spilled here and there in small amounts on the table. If Sweeney wasn't such a gentleman, despite his cold and often ruthless heart, he would say you were drunk. And not just a little bit.

Announcing his presence with a gruff cough, both your and Mrs. Lovett's heads snapped around to face him and he fought the small smirk that grew on his face at the sight. "Mr. Todd! We haven't even noticed you were here!" Minnie quickly addressed him with her signature friendliness. You stayed silent, instead opting to just admire the way Mr. Todd looked in the dim lighting in the shop. You felt you were seeing him completely differently than the other nights you spent there. His eyes reflected the light, making them look even more mysterious and alluring than usual and his normally pale face seemed more livelier. You would have spoken up, offered him some wine, but suddenly, being brought out so suddenly from your conversation with Minnie, your tongue felt big in your mouth, the weight of lead and you just did not have the energy to move it. Or open your mouth for that matter. Somewhere in the back of your mind crossed a thought that maybe you have had a bit too much to drink.

"It is quite late, I am surprised to catch you awake." Mr. Todd pointed out in a neutral tone, despite the playful mirth he was feeling. "Oh but the same could be said about you, Mr. Todd." Mrs. Lovett retaliated cheekily "Besides, we have a good reason to drink into the night! It is my friend's birthday, after all." she announced with an air of pride. You blinked at her a few times, not knowing where she had gotten that information from, because you were pretty sure today was not your birthday at all. Perhaps Minnie has forgotten the reason you were celebrating altogether and her drunken mind just made up a reason on the spot. As you were pondering when actually was your birthday, Mr. Todd spoke up again "Is that so? Well in that case-" and in a few strides he was at yours and Mrs. Lovett's table. He grabbed her half full glass of wine and before you could start wondering if it wasn't half empty, he raised it, grabbing your hand. "Happy birthday." he smiled slightly while you stood up, because you were being congratulated and you didn't want to appear rude, even though there wasn't actually a reason to congratulate you. Mr. Todd downed his, previously Minnie's, glass in one gulp before setting it down again.

Turning to Mrs. Lovett, he addressed her "I need to discuss something with you." he then turned his attention towards you "But it seems there is a more pressing matter at hand." he smirked as he gave you a once over. You felt your cheeks flush, knowing he was right. Standing up was the last straw before your alcohol fueled downfall. You were barely standing, your body swaying side to side slightly to keep itself balanced. Mrs. Lovett studied you for a while as well, before standing, with only a slightly lesser difficulty than you. "Oh I'm so sorry, dear, it seems that I have gone overboard with the drinks." she apologised and you couldn't help but smile softly at her sad tone. "'S alright, Minnie. 'M not mad." you shook your head with a small smile "I best be off though..." mumbling to yourself, you bid your friend a goodnight, not really paying attention to Sweeney, assuming he was waiting for you to leave so that he could discuss whatever it was with his neighbour.

Stumbling away from the table, you were surprised when a hand gripped your upper arm, supporting your weight and grounding your otherwise spinning world. Tracing the arm the hand was attached to with your eyes, you found Sweeney's already looking at your face. You said nothing, in the case that he only supported you in your struggle to weave through the tables in the shop, but as he continued to lead you out of the old building, Mrs. Lovett having gone in the back already, you were confused by this act of chivalry. Not that you took Mr. Todd for a brute, you just didn't expect such a gesture aimed at...yourself. The fact that this was also the first time he has touched you in any way while not necessarily needing so, unlike when he gave you your haircut, did not help your inebriated mind from running wild with conspiracies.

The crisp night air helped clear your head a little bit and you gulped it greedily with deep breaths when you walked out, arm in hand, with the barber. He stood, patiently, right next to you, his secure, but not tight grip on your arm never faltering. If he noticed how you took your sweet time collecting yourself, he didn't mention it, his eyes instead trained on the silver moon hanging in the sky like a lamp, blurred slightly by the infamous London fog. When he sensed you move more into the street, however, he tugged you back towards him slightly, as if he could not let you stray far.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion and yet his eyes shone in a particular way that you couldn't exactly put a finger on in your state. The smirk that once rested on his handsome face was gone and you were perhaps more confused than before. "Home?" you half answered, half asked, unsure of what was the problem. Mr. Todd shook his head sternly "I cannot send you home alone at this time of day and retain a sound mind." he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You couldn't help but laugh at his statement. Where were you supposed to sleep then? Inside the shop? Sliding your arm out of his grip, you grabbed your stomach, your laughter gaining in volume, making you double over. "Oh, you're funny, Mr. Todd!" you wheezed, not caring the man you were addressing was looking at your drunken self with a completely neutral expression, not understanding in the slightest what was so funny "I have to go home! Where else would you have me spend the night?" you asked when you caught your breath, your laughter simmering down into tired giggles. Drunk laughing was hard, but really fun at the same time, you thought.

Sweeney reached out to take your arm again, turning you around to face the stairs like a puppet and started leading you to his home. "You can spend the night upstairs. If I sent you home, alone, you're sure to get robbed...or worse." his voice was cold and harsh and yet you had the sense this sudden change of tone was not due to anything you said. Not taking any chances, just in case, you kept your mouth shut and let him lead you up the stairs while you could feel your face heat up. It felt awfully wrong to just...invade his space like that. If there's one thing you learned about Sweeney, and let's be honest, there weren't many to choose from, it was that he was a very private person. At the same time, he invited you here. If he didn't want you in his space, he could've just let you stay downstairs with Minnie, she would take good enough care of you without a doubt. But what did all this mean?

You said nothing else as you let the barber move you along, much like a puppet, while trying to focus on every confusing thought and feeling that ran through your head. But your energy was quickly dwindling and you couldn't help but to succumb to sleep as soon as our head hit the pillow.

Regaining consciousness again was...unpleasant, to say the least. The first thing you registered was rain. Not very unusual for London though. The next thing was a piercing headache, that threatened to split your skull in two. Groaning, you flipped over in bed. That's when you noticed the smell. This didn't smell like your sheets... Slowly, but surely, the events of the previous night came back to you, even the less than appropriate ending of it. Blinking open your eyes, you let yourself get adjusted to the lighting of the room, before taking a look around. You were, in fact, in Mr. Todd's small abode and you were very probably in his bed too. You could feel heat creeping up your neck as you registered the all too familiar objects of the barber shop, now from a brand new perspective. There was the barber chair, as ominous as ever, the normal chair to the side, where you usually sat, now occupied by the master of the house.

Polishing and sharpening his blades, Sweeney sat by the window, seemingly uninterested and unbothered by basically a stranger waking up in his bed. His unwavering focus was only on his blades, a focus so intense it would send shivers down your spine, if you weren't so engrossed in your own embarrassment. Only when you began to sit up, your arms threatening to give out underneath you, did the barber tear his gaze away from his tools. You tried to get up to your feet as quickly as you could, manners all but forgotten, your only desire was to get out and never return to Mr. Todd's barber shop or Mrs. Lovett's meat pie establishment ever again. But your knees were wobbly and you felt in your body like a newborn fawn, so your quick escape proved to be harder than you thought.

Sweeney looked at you inquisitively and it seemed like he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it, the thought of anything he could and probably would have said making bile rise in your throat. Fighting the nausea, you pushed yourself off the bed and lightly stumbled before standing in front of the barber. "I am so sorry for what transpired yesterday, Mr. Todd." you apologised first and foremost after clearing your throat "You should not have had to witness any of that." looking awkwardly to the side, you continued "However I am very grateful for everything you have done for me yesterday." And with those last words, you bee lined it for the door, only briefly noticing the 'closed' sign on the door that should have been turned around probably hours ago. It wasn't until you were in the middle of the journey home that you realised you didn't even know what time it was, nor did you at least have the decency to make up the bed after you have slept in it. Which brought forth a question...Where did Mr. Todd sleep? There didn't seem to be another sleeping area nor any kind of furniture suitable for such activity in his living/working quarters. You weren't sure what made you blush more, the possibility that you shared a bed or the possibility that he stayed awake somewhere in the same space as you were the whole night. Both seemed strangely...intimate.

For the next few weeks, you avoided Fleet street like the plague. Luckily for you, your boss wasn't in need of a trim anytime soon, even though you did convince him to visit the barber's more than he did previously. But whenever you thought about the mysterious gentleman residing above the pie shop, hot embarrassment flowed through your body like lightning. And so you didn't remind your boss to upkeep his appearance and as usual, the big oaf wouldn't think of such thing himself. He had money, so what if he looked a bit disheveled? Everybody was saving up on everything they could, the rich and poor alike.

Mrs. Lovett was especially vocal about your absence. She worried that she really did offend you or did you wrong somehow during that a bit too wild night. Whenever Sweeney would appear in the shop to fetch his meal, she would bombard him with questions, if he had any news of you, your whereabouts, your wellbeing, or whether your boss' appointment was coming up anytime soon. She regretted now never asking for your address, with how much she'd come to like you in the time you've spent together. You brought a normalcy to her life that she's dreamed of oh so much.

And while Sweeney wasn't pretty much vocal at all towards your sudden absence, when he closed down for the day and looked out of his window, overlooking the grey London sky and dark and gloomy rooftops, he wondered where you could possibly be. What were you doing? Were you alright?

You had came into the vengeful barber's life unexpectedly and while at first Minnie's obsession with you irritated him, making his goals, his work, that much more dangerous, he couldn't help but notice your good nature. Not only towards his neighbour, even though with how strange the woman could be it was surprising in itself, but towards him, even towards your boss. It wasn't that you were naive, no, he could see in your eyes that you knew exactly how cruel and unjust this world was, and yet you still chose to be kind. Despite all the hardships he knew you were dealt by destiny, no, by other people, the biggest monsters on this earth, you still remained with your heart open to others. And he admired that. Your presence on Fleet street was like a beacon of clean light in the constant grey fog, when he sometimes glanced at the street below him and you happened to be there, he always recognized you, as if you shone more brightly than others.

The lonely man spent many a night pondering on what was it that made you occupy his mind so much, what made you so special. He still loved his wife, and his daughter, wherever she may be, that much he knew. But sometimes...sometimes when he looked at you, your face, as you were laughing with Mrs. Lovett about this or that, he could see her smile. And it was so reassuring, as if Lucy herself was sending her mark upon you, signaling to him that you were someone he needed to protect. And when he came to terms with this revelation, he swore to himself that that was exactly what he was going to do.

So of course it was no problem for him to let you spend a night in his bed. He found your drunken antics and your embarrassment the next morning quite endearing. If you would've paid more attention to him and your surroundings that morning, you would've noticed the small smirk on his face as he watched you clumsily apologize, even though he saw no reason for it. And you would've noticed the two cups of coffee, along with some painkillers standing prepared on the table near the bed. But Sweeney didn't think his actions would've driven you away from him and Mrs. Lovett like that. He knew there was nothing that he could do except wait for you to come back, although he didn't like the idea of something happening to you without him knowing it, being able to prevent it. And he didn't even want to think about the scenario that you would never be back. He saw the way you looked at him, studied him, the confusion in your eyes from the way he behaved so often and now he wanted nothing more than to tell you everything and sort things out. Even if he wasn't sure how exactly to do that. Benjamin was good with words, but Sweeney? Sweeney was all about action, because unlike Benjamin, Sweeney Todd knew just how little weight words could hold in the world.

It didn't take long for you to start missing Fleet street, with your two favourite residents, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd. You contemplated when should you pay them a visit and how you would explain your avoidance of them, until after one night, when that became irrelevant.

It happened in the evening. You were let go from work for the day and while you were on your way home, thinking mostly about whether you had any leftovers from yesterday or if you had to cook dinner from scratch and not paying much attention to your surroundings, when you were jumped. Two men, none of which you knew, cornered you against a wall of a building along which you were walking, asking for some money. You, not wanting any more trouble than necessary, pulled out your pouch, where you kept all the change you needed, but it wasn't enough for whatever they were planning. With two figures towering at least a good head above from you, demanding you do what they say, you didn't dare look them directly in their faces, so you knew little of what they looked like. But they smelled awful and faintly of fish. When they asked to show them what more you had in your bag, yo asked them to leave you be, that you've already given them everything important you had on you. That proved to be a mistake, since one of them grabbed you roughly by the arms from behind, while the other ripped your bag from your hands and turned it upside down. You struggled to get away from the bastard's bruising grip and started calling out for help, which was another mistake. The guy that was going through your things, most of which were only daily necessities, such as your keys and whatnot, suddenly sprung up and hit you in the face, gruffly telling you to shut up, if you valued your life. It was at that point you noticed his voice was slightly slurred.

Luckily, an officer must've been patrolling nearby, or someone must've taken pity on you and called him over, it wasn't that late in the evening after all, because as soon as you heard the distinct sound of a bobby whistle, the first guy let you go while the second one hastily grabbed your notebook and both of them booked it down the street, weaving through the city's intricate alleyways. The officer quickly asked what happened and told you to stay put while he chased after them. But it wasn't even five minutes before he was back, informing you that he lost them and he asked you to accompany him to the police station to give a statement on what happened and they would see what could be done.

The next day, you showed up to work with a nasty looking black eye, without your notebook or a single penny. The police officers told you that with the limited description you provided they weren't sure how much could be done. After telling your boss what happened, he surprisingly took the matter quite seriously. Not only did you write down ever single appointment he needed to attend to in your notebook, but some quite serious and important information, codes to safes, finance tracking, different information having to do with sales and so on. He asked what police station you went to yesterday and said he would get in touch with the officers, since it wasn't impossible that the attack wasn't planned ahead and the notebook was exactly what someone was after. You didn't need or want to know anything more than that. Your boss also gave you two weeks off, to let your eye heal, commenting how it would seem weird if you accompanied him looking like that and he didn't need any more rumors being spread about him, like physically abusing his personnel. He gave you your money back, saying it was going from your next paycheck until the police got your original money back, plus some more to buy a new notebook. As incompetent as he could sometimes be, he was still a businessman, and even though his motivation for these choices was questionable, you were still glad he made them.

As soon as you were outside again, your legs immediately took you in the direction of Fleet street. Still quite shaken up after the incident, the thing you needed the most at that moment was a friend and something told you Minnie would not turn you down.

And you were not mistaken. As you took a step inside the pie shop, Mrs. Lovett's arms were around you, her worried and apologetic rambling reaching your ears as soon as they got used to the buzz of the busy establishment. As soon as the woman pulled away from you, her relieved expression turned to one of shock as she carefully cradled your cheek where the bruise was, asking "What in god's name happened?" Immediately she brought you to the back of the shop and fetched the cleanest rag, which was then promptly soaked in cold water, so that you could relieve some of the ache of the black eye. And she had you remain there until closing, spending her time between serving customers and preparing pies chatting with you. She informed you that she wasn't mad about your sudden disappearance, that she was just very worried and then she promptly asked you your address "In case you want to pull something on me like that again." she reasoned with a cheeky smile.

After Minnie closed down in the evening, you both could sit uninterrupted in the main area, with the businesswoman cleaning up here and there and re-wetting your rag. Anytime you tried to offer her help as a thank you, she would just sternly order you to sit back down and not even think about work, since you've been given 'a sick leave'. Just as she was done with cleaning and was about to head out to get rid of the dirty water, a person you were still dreading to meet walked into the room. You immediately knew who it was by the way Mrs. Lovett's eyes brightened, her face blooming into one of sweet happiness as she cooed out a greeting "Oh, Mr. Todd! Look who decided to join us today! Poor thing got mugged yesterday, can you believe it?" she shook her head, carrying her bucket out the door "So nice of you to join us, there are some pies hidden in the oven in the back for you!" she called behind her as the door clicked close after her.

There was nothing for you to do but turn around, your face heating up again, only praying Mr. Todd wouldn't pay attention to it. But to your slight surprise, he only stared intently at the black eye adorning your face, like a joke of a monocle the more posh men liked to wear when out and about. With a few quick strides, the barber was next to you, his hand under your chin, tipping your head upwards, so he could assess your wound better under the light. His face was contorted into a frown, but his eyes were nothing but gentle as he murmured "Who did this to you?" His voice was ice cold, but somehow you knew you didn't need to be scared. "I don't know." you whispered "The police are after them now." You both said nothing as you only continued to study each other.

When the sound of a door being opened could be heard, Sweeney gently let go of your chin and took a step back from you, but not quite leaving your side. Mrs. Lovett trotted happily back into the room, taking the seat across from you and looking up at her neighbour, she patted the chair beside hers. Not waiting for him to comply, which was good, because Sweeney did not move an inch from where he stood, she asked you, her expression concerned "Darling, do you think it'll be okay for you to walk home alone at this hour?"

Looking out of the window, you saw the street was getting dark. It would not take much more time for night to completely settle over the city. You felt so safe and comfortable, that you completely forgot about the passage of time. Surely there will be little to no people out at this hour. And those who will be outside roaming the streets are definitely not the kind of people you want to associate yourself with. And while you had no problem walking on the bring of darkness alone before, after yesterday's events, you couldn't help the cold shiver that ran down your back at the thought of the many alleyways you'd have to pass before getting home.

Seeing your hesitance, Mrs. Lovett placed her hand softly on yours "It's alright, love. You can stay here for the night! I'm sure there's plenty of room for one more person in the house." her smile was so reassuring, you couldn't help your own taking over your face. But you shook your head "As much as I appreciate your offer, I have to go home. The officers might need me for more questionings, it's best I don't stay out of the house too long." you explained with a small smile and got up from your chair. Surprisingly, it was Sweeney who spoke next "I'll walk you home. If you wouldn't mind, that is." he offered, his eyes flickering between your face and the table during the latter part. "Oh, Mr. Todd! Such a gentleman!" Minnie squealed adoringly, standing up as well "Trust me, love, with Mr. Todd, you're in good hands." something about the way she looked at the barber when she said that made you feel strange, but you had no reason not to believe her or the quiet man standing beside you. So you nodded and looked towards the window again "Best we head off though, I wouldn't want you to have to return when it's completely dark." you muttered, more to yourself and then looked at your companion for confirmation. The dangerous glint you caught flashing through his eyes made you shiver again, but you ignored it.

After hugging Mrs. Lovett goodbye, you were on your way. The first few minutes passed in complete silence, you had no idea what to say and Mr. Todd wasn't one for many words. Sighing, you decide to be the one to break the ice "I...I'm sorry, once again, Mr. Todd. For running out on you like that. You've done so much for me and I repaid you horribly." your gaze was set on the stone path as you apologised. For a while, the barber said nothing, which did not help your nerves at all. "Sweeney." That was the only thing he said. You whipped your head around to look at him, your mouth hanging agape in confusion. "I'm sorry?" Sweeney then looked at you, a single chuckle escaping his chest through his smirking lips. In the dim night lights of the London street, he looked possibly more attractive than ever before. "My name. I feel like we don't have to keep up such formalities, since you've spent a night in my bed already."

You couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, your face heating up. "You make it sound like something much more serious." you pouted. He chuckled again. This was the most you've heard him talk or just express himself in any way since you've known him. "And it wasn't? I don't let just anyone into my bed, you know." It was clear as day he was enjoying this. But his words held an underlying meaning, one which was much more deeper than the lighthearted teasing. Sweeney slowed into a stop and you followed suit beside him. The last street lamp was now behind him, leaving his face covered mostly in shadows. And yet you could see his eyes, vulnerable in a way he probably hasn't been in a long, long time, you could feel his intense gaze on your face, studying your every small reaction. "What are you saying?" you breathed out, your heart in your throat. Sweeney took a step closer "What I'm saying is that you've grown to be quite important to me. After that night..." he stopped, searching for the right words to continue "I realised many things. And I've realised...that I want to keep you close. To protect you. To know you and to allow myself to be known by you. If you'll let me, that is." and he slowly reached for your hand, holding it in both of his oh so gently. "Do you deem me worthy of knowing your heart? Your soul?"

You could feel your breath hitch in your throat as you were overwhelmed by sudden conflicting emotions. But the one that stood out from all of them was... "As long as you'll deem me worthy of knowing yours." you replied in almost a whisper. And with those words, that one sentence, it was as if the tension in the air disappeared all at once. Sweeney stood beside you once more, this time offering you his arm to take and after you've linked your arm through his, he continued to escort you home. Not just as an acquaintance, not as a friend...but perhaps not yet as a lover. But there was time for all of that. Right now, there was the chilly London night air, you and him. And you could figure out the details, such as breaking the news to Minnie, or discovering why exactly there was a trapdoor behind the barber chair, some other time. Tonight was just for you.

[pitifulbaby]

Cold December Night

summary: Christmas is suppose to be the happiest time of the year, but how do you break the chain from the last sad ones?

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

warnings: angsty, and then fluffy, eddie and you have shared trauma, i guess fix it fic? honestly its sad but i promise it ends really really sweet! there isn't a lot of dialouge, i've never seen snow so if anything i wrote isn't correct you can sue me, eddie has big feelings, talks of depression, a hint of suggestive nature- blink and you would miss it, no use of y/n

a/n: once again i have literally been writing this, or trying to write this for like a year.. anyways i am glad i got this finished though! if you celebrate Christmas i hope you have a wonderful day, and even if you don't i hope tomorrow is amazing like you. 4.4k words.

stranger things masterlist

Hawkins, Indiana was a special place. Perhaps not in the greatest ways, but it sure was special. It was December 5th, 1988. Days were shorter and colder, clothes were longer and provided more warmth than the clothing you would wear during the scorching summer months. Physical wounds from 86’ were healed and turned into scars that were hard to explain.

1986 wasn’t a good year. The year started fine, you worked at a local grocery store- sure it didn’t pay much, but there were only so many job options in Hawkins. Trying to make enough money til Eddie graduated. You had graduated in 94’ the same year he was suppose to be graduating as well, but luck wasn’t on his side. You hadn’t known what you wanted to do after high school. Eighteen was still so young to decide on what you wanted to do for the rest of your life.

So you decided to take a gap year during 95’ to give yourself a year to figure out what you wanted to do for college- or even if you wanted to go. Getting a job to make ends meet.

Then like a repeat of the year before, Eddie was held back. You promised him if he graduated in 86’ that where you went to college- or if you went to college, you would take him with you if he wanted, but only if he graduated.

The two of you started dating when you were both 16. Young lovers turned out to be soulmates. You two shared a bond that was unbreakable and perhaps to others a little odd- but that was just because you both were a little weird.

Then suddenly 1986 happened. Eddie’s drug deal turned to watching Chrissy Cuningham be possessed and killed right before his eyes- the blame of her unexplainable death placed onto the metalhead. You got a call from Wayne in the early hours of the morning, him asking if you knew where Eddie was- worry evident in his voice as he told you what he came home to find, and what he didn’t find.

It was strange opening the door to Dustin Henderson, him and his odd gaggle of friends taking you with them to find Eddie.

Everything else happened so fast and yet seemed so slow. Finding Eddie, having to learn about the Upside Down which was this other dimension that lived under Hawkins. Everything in the Upside Down was the exact same as it was in the normal version of Hawkins- well, other than the monsters crawling around and who else knows what lurked in the corners no one knew about yet.

March 27th was probably the worst day of your life yet. Going into the upside down to defeat Vecna, a thing of nightmares- a strange, terrifying, whatever he was. He was the type of thing you would tell to scare people, a creature you would use in a make believe story told over a campfire at night to try and one up someone else’s story and scare the living daylights out of them.

Things seemed fine on your end, you and Dustin back in the right side of Hawkins before Eddie had to do what he thought was right, cutting the makeshift rope and ceasing you from getting to him, sacrificing himself to the demobats.

Watching him cut the bedsheet rope, his eyes trained on yours as he told you he loved you before he was gone. After that your body was on autopilot. Pushing a chair towards the gaping hole in the ceiling, getting a running start before tumbling through the upside down- hurting your ankle pretty bad but the adrenaline masked the pain that you should’ve felt.

Running out the door and towards the direction of swarming bats that circled Eddie and feasted on the male. And suddenly the bats dropped dead around him.

Holding his body close to yours as he bled out wasn’t a memory you wanted to keep, but it was one that wouldn’t ever go away. He tried to say his goodbyes, but you shot them down. Promised you would get him out of there no matter what.

And with a lot of trouble you managed to get him out of the upside down.

The rest of that night was a blur.

Vecna was defeated, his body disintegrating into the upside down that started to crumble and break as you and the others escaped. Once through to Hawkins the gate to the other side closed and sealed as if nothing happened.

Which was a lie.

Max was rushed to the hospital, she barely escaped death- but not without issues that would follow her for the rest of her life. They managed to reset her bones, and her vision wasn’t fully gone but it wasn’t great at all. She was considered legally blind, but with thick rimmed glasses she could still see. But things would still have a small blur to them.

During Vecna’s encounter with Max, Jason attacked Lucas. Threatening the boy and beating him as Lucas tried to save Max.

After the police and ambulance showed up to take Max away to the hospital, all the blame of the lives taken by Vecna were placed onto Jason. Though it wasn’t his fault, the evidence somehow seemed to fall onto him. The charges that were going to be placed on Eddie were switched to Jason and he was arrested for the murder of Chrissy, Patrick and Fred and attempted murder of Max.

Even if some of the things didn’t fully make sense on it being Jason’s fault, he was connected to Patrick and Chrissy. Found at the scene of Patrick's murder and Max’s attempt. Which was enough evidence for the police.

Taking Eddie to the hospital was also something you found awful. When questioned about what happened you put the blame on being attacked by a man and his dog. A man trying to make things right as he thought Eddie was the reason for it all and used his dog as an attack dog. No one questioned otherwise. No one questioned the odd marks that didn’t align with a dog bite or knife.

You came out alive with a fractured ankle and wrist.

Eddie came out alive with scars, a near death experience and one nipple.

But you two came out with shared trauma and separation anxiety.

Nothing from the upside down reared its head, no signs anything would come back had shown and that’s how things would hopefully stay. After the events that occurred, the trailer the two Munsons lived in was unlivable. Sure it could be restored, but neither Eddie nor Wayne felt comfortable in the house that was once a home. So all the unbroken things inside the trailer were moved out and the building was torn down. 

No one would want to buy the trailer, plus it would be more expensive to remodel it than it was to completely tear it down. So, down went the Munson trailer.

Wayne moved into a small townhouse close to the plant he worked at, the neighborhood was new and quiet which was perfect for the elder Munson and his odd work schedule. Plus it was rather cheap, about the same as it was to live in the trailer- give or take a few. 

Before this all happened you had been living on your own, much like Steve you had absent, rich, parents. But yours were more loving than his- as harsh as it is. Though your parents had moved out of state when you were a fresh face eighteen year old, they knew how much you loved Hawkins. And since you spent most of your life without them there to coddle you, they had no issue with you living alone. But they did kindly help you on and off with the bills. 

So since you were on your own, just you in the small home, it didn’t take much convincing to get Eddie to move in with you. As much as he loves his uncle, he felt like he was old enough to be on his own- albeit with you, but truthfully at this point you and Eddie were seemingly one person. 

The government had given you both a decent amount of hush money for the terrifying horrors experienced. And though money was nice, it wouldn’t heal the traumatic hell you and Eddie went through.

Physically you were both healed, though sometimes the wrist you had fractured would tingle- a pins and needles type feeling if you leaned on it. Eddie’s scars would itch, worse in the colder months and would often be applying lots of lotion. It took a while for him to let you see the scars, for him to let you help apply and creams to soothe the deep marks. He told you he could do it himself, reapply the dressings, that it was no issue. 

But the soft cries you heard from him when he was locked in the bathroom told you otherwise.

After a while he opened up, more tears were shed as he showed you what was left of his body, he told you he wouldn’t be mad if you didn’t love him anymore after seeing him. After that you made him lay on the bed and pressed kisses to each and every inch of him, told him no matter what you would always love him, no matter his looks- you loved him for him, not his body. 

It took a while for Eddie to become more comfortable again in his body, and he still had a long way to go. But he was just starting to be able to look in the mirror and not get upset, not be angry at what he saw. 

The only people he let see without a shirt was you and Wayne, but of course his Uncle didn’t live with him anymore so he didn’t see his nephew shirtless as much as he did when they lived together. Eddie Munson was a furnace and because of that he preferred to sleep without a shirt. But, that changed after the upside down. He didn’t like the way the sheets or comforter would rub against the scars. So you two were still on the hunt for bedding that wasn’t aggravating. 

Back to now, things were somewhat calm. Christmas was weeks away, and you were excited to celebrate it. The last two years the holidays were hard. 

Christmas 86’ felt like it never happened, Eddie spent the day sleeping. His wounds were still healing from the dreadful day in March. You didn’t blame the metalhead for sleeping, truthfully that year leading into the next he spent most of his days bedridden. It took a while for Eddie’s spark for anything to come back, and you were there each step of the way to help him. Wayne that year, no matter how hard he tried to fight it, was set to work on Christmas Day. It didn’t snow that year, but it poured a frigid rain, a fog set over the town, bringing a gloomy atmosphere. 

Christmas 87’ much like the year before was very mellow. Eddie didn’t really want to do anything big. So that year Christmas was spent between you and the two Munsons. The younger munson claimed he didn’t want anything or need anything that year, and the elder munson was all the same. But of course that didn’t stop you from getting them both something small. The day was spent like every other day, the two men played poker, a six pack was split between you three. Dinner was take out from some hole in the wall restaurant that was open on Christmas. No decorations in sight, it didn’t snow that year either.

But this year, Christmas 88’ was the year things seemed nearly normal again. Sure things would never be the same, but it was pretty damn close. The light was back in Eddie’s eyes, his hands didn’t shake when he tried to play the guitar, his humor was back and consisted of joking about what happened on the 27th of March. Which in turn usually ended up with him getting a gentle smack to his shoulder as he cackled. 

Eddie decided every holiday this year must be celebrated to the most extreme- which was a contrast from the last two years. Though his main holiday priorities were Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

Never did you think you would be celebrating st. patricks day to the extreme but, that's what this year was. The year to try and get back to being okay. 

The morning came, soft light seeping through the small, thin gap between the middle where the curtains met. With fluttering eyes you slowly woke up, focus starting to come back as you blinked a few times. Moving your hands to your face to rub the sleep from your eyes. The small movements from you caused a groan to be heard from the left of you. Eddie was asleep, laying on his stomach with one arm draped over you and the other hidden underneath his pillow. His lips were ever so parted, a gentle pout gracing his features. He was completely and utterly knocked out.

Before 86’ Eddie could sleep like a log, a bomb could go off in the next room and he wouldn’t be none the wiser. Then after March, for a few months, he could barely sleep- which soon turned into him sleeping his days away as a depressed state took over him. Which in turn caused him to be a very light sleeper. But as the months went by, mentally and physically he was healing, he was slowly going back to his heavy sleeping days, which you didn’t mind. You’d rather it take a bit to get him awake than him not sleep or wake up at the drop of a pin.

Your eyes landed on the sleeping boy, his once sharp features soft, letting him look at peace. With a gentle hand you tuck a lock of his wild dark hair behind his ear. Which in turn causes him to nuzzle his face more so into the pillow. A deep chill was casted over the room, colder than it was when you went into bed last night. Turning your head you look toward the alarm clock on the bedside table, reading the bright red numbers. 10:32.

It was a little later than you had been waking up, but after the wild night you had with Eddie last night, sleeping longer was most welcome. 

Slowly and carefully you managed to wiggle yourself out of the metalhead's hold, putting a pillow in your place in Eddie’s arms. You hate to admit that it was rather difficult to get out of bed, not because you didn’t want to get up ( though very true. ) But you were sore, legs having a small wobble to them as you wandered to the bathroom. Stumbling a bit once. 

After your trip to the bathroom you were pulling on one of Eddie’s oversized sweaters. A dark material with a skull adorning the front of it. It clashed wildly with your fuzzy pink gingham bottoms, but you didn’t care. After stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers, you were checking to make sure Eddie was still asleep. Pulling the blankets up higher on him before venturing off into the living room. The only noise heard was the shuffling of your feet and the overworking heater. You kneeled on the couch, knees against the cushions as you leaned over to grab the curtains, pulling them open before pulling the blinds.

Outside was- as cliche as it sounds, a winter wonderland. Upon the once dying grass from the cold was now a sheet of stark white snow. As the town of Hawkins slept, snow fell. It started off as a small flurry before coming down harder further into the night. But the fall had stopped and in its wake was sparkling snow. It was a decent amount of the stuff, you could see the neighborhood kids all bundled up and playing in the first snow of the season. 

It didn’t take you long to quickly make a batch of hot chocolate, tearing open the small pouch of powdered chocolate and dumping the contents into some warm milk. Stirring the mixture into a mug. With the mug in hand, a fluffy jacket over the sweater you wore and feet shoved into a pair of Eddie’s much too big for you boots, you ventured off to the small porch.

Outside atop the porch was of course an outdoor couch with a small end table on the right of it. You held the mug between the palms of your hands to try and help warm yourself, pulling your legs up close to your chest with your back against the armrest- seated sideways. 

You let your gaze wander, taking in everything your eyes could see. Your neighbor to the left was currently shoveling the snow off his driveway while his elder mother stood bundled up in the doorway, watching her son intently. 

The neighbors to your right were currently putting up Christmas decorations, a middle aged couple trying to put the momma deer and her baby in the right place while their twin daughters stood back- telling them which way to turn the decorations. 

All in all it was a heartwarming sight, though not enough to help warm you, but still sweet to watch. You watched as the kids across the street were in an intense snowball battle with a few of the other neighborhood kids. It was just now you realized how family oriented the small subdivision truly was. 

The sound of the door creaking open broke you from the people watching zone you were in, tilting your head to the side to see the man of your dreams, Eddie. His face was swollen with sleep, hair a mess. He was dressed warmly, you could see a small hint of a sweater under his own thick jacket, his plaid sleep pants traded in for a thicker pair of sweatpants. His plush bottom lip turned into a small pout as he stared at you. 

“You stole my boots.” Sleep was laced in his voice, and if you listened hard enough you could hear the faintest of a southern drawl in his words from the years of being around his father and then Wayne. The two older men both had thick southern accents. The male soon stepped out onto the porch, adorning another pair of his boots that were almost exact to the ones you wore.

“I didn’t steal them, just borrowed them.” You responded to him, it was at this moment you noticed the buffalo plaid blanket he held in his hand. He soon was seated next to you, gently taking the mug from you- but not before of course he took a sip of the cocoa. He placed the mug on the table before he was grabbing your legs and pulling you close. He rested your legs over his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you to his chest, placing the blanket over your lap. 

“I was gonna ‘borrow’ your boots but I didn’t think the pink would go with my outfit.” Eddie said with a small chuckle, reaching forward to gently push a few strands of your hair out of your face. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Better yet, why didn’t you stay in bed with me?” He asked, his words a little slurred as he spoke low, almost as if he were sharing a secret with you. 

With a purse of your lips you shrugged gently, head turned to look at him. “You looked so peaceful, and I was gonna come back to bed but then I saw the snow and was called out here.” Your gaze trailed to look at his mouth before flickering back up to his eyes. 

“Called out here? What are you, an arctic fox?” His question was said as he gently shook you, his eyes going wide as he leaned in closer to your face. “And so what if I am? At least I’m not a worm, I wouldn’t survive these conditions.” Was your response to him, your hand coming up to gently smooth out his untamed curls.

“I would still love you if you were a worm,” Eddie replied to you, taking your hand away from his hair and pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Luckily I’m not a worm, because I wouldn’t have you there with me to give me kisses.” 

The two of you spoke with hushed voices, words quiet- almost as if you were both afraid to ruin the moment you shared, though you knew nothing would ruin it, at least nothing you two could do.

“If you were a worm I would also be a worm, I would never let you be a worm alone.” He said like it was a promise, and you know it was. A smile creeps up your face, causing you to laugh at the serious demeanor in his features. “I would give you worm kisses!” He adds, the serious resolve crumbling as he smiles brightly at you. ���Worm doesn’t seem like a word anymore- how did we even get to the topic of them anyway?” You had interrupted yourself, brows furrowing in as Eddie shrugged his shoulders at you.

You watched as his eyes wandered out to the scenery in front of you both, “I didn’t think it was gonna snow this year.” He finally spoke after a few moments of silence from either of you, “It hasn’t snowed since,” Eddie’s eyes squinted in thought, trying to remember the last time it snowed. 

“What was it? January of 86’?” The male questions, more so asking himself rather than you. “The news didn’t say anything about any snow, I think it kinda just happened.” As you spoke you shivered, trying to huddle closer to Eddie. “I hope it lasts, or at least snows again on Christmas.” He spoke with a certain type of wonder that you haven’t seen from him since before that fateful day. “We could always put some snow in some buckets and then keep them in the freezer incase it doesn’t snow on Christmas.” 

You spoke to Eddie, never letting your eyes falter from him. One of your favorite past times has always been looking at him, he was beautiful inside and out. He was a very expressive man and you enjoyed seeing every little expression. For the smallest twitch under his eyes to the wide smile with the deep dimples.

The words you spoke caused Eddie to laugh, brows pulling in as his gaze turned back to you. That wonder he showed to the snow somehow becoming more present as his dark eyes locked in on you. “That means we would have to take out the frozen pizzas and the ice cream to make room for the snow. You know I can't live without my sweet, sweet frozen rocky road.” His right hand pressed against his chest, no rings in sight. “You know you concern me for the fact you still eat ice cream and popsicles even when it's below freezing outside.” 

He simply shrugs at your words, “I am a man of great taste.” Was his only response. You rest your head against his shoulder, snuggling against him. A shiver runs down your spine once again as a gust of cold wind blows, rustling through the trees and causing snowflakes to flutter off the once green leaves. “You cold?” Eddie questions, trying to pull you closer as he hikes the blanket up higher on you.

“No, I'm super sweaty.” You reply, your words a joke though spoken seriously. You can’t see it but Eddie rolls his eyes at your words, gently pinching your side which causes you to squeal. Not in any pain, more so in surprise of his cold fingers that he slipped up your shirt. “Why don’t we go inside and make some new hot chocolate? I’m afraid yours might have turned into a nice cold glass of chocolate milk rather than what it was.” You can feel Eddie turning his head to the glass as he spoke, taking note of the drink. 

“That sounds like a plan.” You replied soon after, reluctantly getting off his lap, holding tight to the blanket. Eddie follows suit, but before either of you can walk inside you are grabbing his arm, turning towards him with a bright smile. His brows furrow at you with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to speak. 

“I love you.” Your words are simple and true, causing your lover to smile bright as he leans in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. “I love you too.” He replies after pulling away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you both inside- not before of course grabbing the mug from the table.

Christmas 88’ was much, much different from all the past years of the holiday. You both wore the cliche matching pajamas- the cheesiest pair that was affordable. The morning was meant for you both, the small bundle of gifts exchanged as well as kisses that tasted like peppermint and chocolate. Wayne came over around mid afternoon, bearing a few gifts for you both- and he of course was given some as well. Though he complained over and over again that it was too much, but you know he enjoyed them and it would all be used. For Christmas dinner Steve and Robin came over.Steve having been spending the holiday with Robin so he wasn’t alone- you had told them they were both welcome much earlier in the day, but they had a tradition to continue which you were told was a day of odd food combinations and movie after movie. Dustin popped over at some point, though he didn’t stay for long. It was a day full of love and cheer, lots of food and presents. 

It snowed that Christmas, the first white Christmas in a few years. And as you and Eddie stood outside admiring the bad decorations you both put up, he was soon kneeling on one knee, a small box in hand with a ring nestled inside with the most important question on his lips.

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 26 - There’s No Place Like Home

*Door opens*

Masumi: I’m home.

Tsuzuru: Aahh~, finally home…

Itaru: I’m exhausted… There really is no place like home.

Sakuya: Welcome home!

Citron: I am phone~!

Chikage: You got back yesterday, right, Sakuya?

Sakuya: Yeah! I’m really glad I got to be the one to say “welcome home” to you guys!

Izumi: We’ve been waiting for all of you.

Banri: Startin’ tomorrow you guys are gonna have a pretty strict rehearsal schedule to follow.

Citron: What a sporkin’ assistant director~.

Tsuzuru: I think you mean “spartan”.

Tsuzuru: Ah, right. There’s something I wanna discuss about the script, can we talk about that later?

Izumi: Sure thing.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: Alright, to kick off our rehearsals starting up again, I’ll pass out the new scripts right away.

Sakuya: Did you rewrite the script?

Tsuzuru: Just a bit. I wanted to focus on Romeo’s sword-fighting scene a little more. I got the idea after seeing your sword fighting during our remote rehearsal the other day.

Tsuzuru: I thought it’d be a good way to distinguish things from the original and change the pacing a bit.

Itaru: How’d you manage to rework things in such a short amount of time?

Tsuzuru: Thanks to the training camp, I was able to train my typing fingers to work even faster.

Itaru: Nice.

Izumi: I’ll go ahead and explain how the stage direction has changed to better fit the script.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Banri: Aight, let’s call it here for afternoon rehearsals.

Izumi: Good work, everyone.

Sakuya: Good work!

Itaru: Aghh… My body is still jet-lagged…

Chikage: There wasn’t even that much of a time difference between here and where you went.

Tsuzuru: Well, it is kinda tiring just being on a plane.

Izumi: Masumi-kun, are you able to have a quick promo meeting after this? Sakyo-san asked me to fill you in on the project we’ve been working on.

Masumi: I’ve actually been doing some research into that too.

Masumi: I think social media ads are a great way to get more votes from streaming and to target the recent theater user base.

Masumi: And we should get a good grasp on outdoor advertisements too… You can put them up for relatively cheap around this area.

Izumi: Really? I see…

Masumi: I think I can probably get us some ad space through my company.

Izumi: Really? Alright, we can put together a budget with that in mind.

Masumi: Got it. I’ll get right on it.

Tsuzuru: Masumi’s really starting to look like a guy who’s in charge of promo.

Itaru: The rate at which he’s growing as a short-term intern is actually just sickening.

Sakuya: That’s our Masumi-kun.

Chikage: And you’re getting even better at sword fighting, Sakuya.

Tsuzuru: I decided to change the script thinking it’d be kinda difficult for you, but it turned out to be no problem at all.

Sakuya: Really? Thank you so much!

Banri: I’m sure you’re able to show the audience that Romeo’s grown up to be pretty damn strong since the original while out on his journey, right?

Sakuya: I’ll do my best!

Citron: I feel like Chikage has also changed since going out on his trip~!

Itaru: True. It’s not quite the same as growing up, but he definitely seems to be some kind of refreshed.

Chikage: Is that so? I wonder if I really have had a change of mental state since I got some closure on my feelings.

Banri: By the way, we got a request for an interview from some foreign press the other day. That ‘cause of you, Citron?

Tsuzuru: Whoa, was it really from overseas?

Citron: I am instanding when it comes to publicity!

Tsuzuru: It’s “outstanding”.

Itaru: Makes sense since a minister’s definitely got a high visibility stat.

Izumi: That said, we’ve only got a limited number of people here who can correspond with people overseas, so it’d be great if we could have your help in this regard, Chikage-san.

Chikage: Understood.

Citron: Maybe I can work with Chikage to develop things directed at the entire world!

Sakuya: I think that’s a great idea!

Masumi: Then I’ll come up with some ideas too.

Itaru: All of you are out here shining while I’m stuck as a corporate slave that’s only gained more fatigue from all of this…

*Phone buzzes*

Itaru: Ah, sorry, it’s the company.

Izumi: Go ahead.

Itaru: Thank you for your hard work. This is Chigasaki.

Itaru: Yes… What was that… Oh, I see. Understood. Thank you so much for taking the time to do this.

Itaru: Yes, I’ll get in contact with you later. I look forward to working with you.

*Beep*

Itaru: Hell yeah, baby!

Sakuya: Did something happen?

Itaru: Hm~, sorta. I’m just having a rare happy moment where I’m actually happy with my job.

Citron: Congratulations!

Chikage: We’re happy for you.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Itaru: 《Well then, I’ll leave this matter to you.》

Itaru: 《Also, regarding the matter we discussed the other day, is your schedule looking okay for that?》

Itaru: 《Understood. I’m pleased to be working with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.》

*Beep*

Itaru: Haah…

Itaru: (I know I’m the one who started this whole thing, but God, I’ve been so busy planning this ceremonial event…)

Itaru: (Well, it’s forgiven because of what it’s related to.)

*Phone rings*

Itaru: Thank you for your hard work. This is Chigasaki.

Itaru: End Links is--? Understood, please put them through.

Itaru: Hello, the line has been switched. This is Chigasaki. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of talking to you.

Itaru: Thank you so much for your cooperation with this ceremonial event.

Itaru: Yes, both the local fans and Japanese fans have high expectations regarding--Yes.

Itaru: …Pardon?

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: You got an offer to play Lancelot as part of the overseas KniRoun Stage!?

Itaru: I mean, sorta? It’s just a music concert, though, so it’s more like a guest performance where I’d do some minor sword fighting during it.

Itaru: Hoshii-san called me to tell me that the stageplay of KniRoun is really appreciated among overseas fans.

Citron: It is amazing that you heard that directly from Director Hoshii!

Sakuya: That’s just how much your Lancelot is recognized by both Hoshii-san and the fans, Itaru-san!

Itaru: Yeah… It’s honestly pretty nice to hear.

Itaru: But even though I was the one who submitted the plan for KniRoun for the ceremonial event, I’m still crazy surprised because I never thought they’d offer something to me personally.

Chikage: KniRoun fans both in Japan and around the world are going to be paying attention because of where it’s taking place. There’ll be a lot of PVs from overseas, so it’s a great PR opportunity too.

Citron: It will absolutely be peeling them!

Masumi: Not peel, it’s “appeal”.

Itaru: But the event date’s right before Spring Troupe’s performance. And I’d need about a two or three-day schedule for all the rehearsals and everything…

Itaru: And even if I were to leave there immediately after the show if you add in the travel time, I’d be back home on our opening day.

Itaru: There’s just not enough time. I don’t think there’s any way for this to work.

Izumi: But it’s such a great opportunity--.

Masumi: Don’t you want to do it?

Itaru: Well, of course, but…

Itaru: If I have to choose between it and Spring Troupe, I’m choosing Spring Troupe, no hesitation.

Tsuzuru: …Isn’t there something we can do?

Banri: …You said you’d need about two or three days, right? You could prolly get away with it if you’d be chill with losing out on your off days from rehearsals.

Izumi: Right. We’ve been making good progress, so…

Chikage: There are lots of flights that depart at night and arrive here early in the morning on opening day. You’d be able to make it in time for the start of the show, and you’d probably be able to be part of the dress rehearsal too.

Izumi: It’ll be okay, Itaru-san.

Itaru: --.

Tsumugi: If you need an understudy, I’ll be able to handle it. I practiced a bit with Sakuya-kun the other day.

Tenma: I can help out too.

Sakuya: Please go and do it, Itaru-san!

Masumi: Hasn’t our whole thing been taking on new challenges as much as we can, no matter how reckless they might seem?

Tsuzuru: If you’re hesitating about something, then you should just go ahead and do it. That’s what I thought when I decided to do my scriptwriting training camp.

Chikage: We’ll make it all work, somehow.

Citron: If you love your child, sell them out on a journey!

Tsuzuru: Send, not sell.

Itaru: …Thanks, guys. I’ll go ahead and take this chance.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

It Started With a Kiss (5/?)

Thanks to everyone for reading and for the comments on the last chapter! I told you guys to give it time and Josh would go away, lol. I’m so glad you are all enjoying this so far!

This chapter is based around the episode “One Life To Lose,” which aired on March 21, so for timeline purposes, we’ll say it’s been about 3 weeks since the events of the last chapter and Beckett ended things with Josh. This chapter picks up at the end of that episode, where Castle gives her the photo and goes from there.

Just a reminder, the story follows along with the course of the show…the only different aspects are the added or reworked scenes that I write.

I still don’t own Castle.

xxxxx

Beckett had never been so happy to have an interesting case in her life as she’d been when she got this one. A murder on a soap opera. It was right up Castle’s alley. She couldn’t help but feel like he was pulling away from her. She’d wanted to tell him that she had ended things with Josh, but she hadn’t had the chance yet. She’d barely seen or heard from him since the dirty bomb case. He’d stopped by the precinct a few times, but when he’d realized it was a paperwork day, he hadn’t stayed around long. Then there had been last week when she was prepping a case for court with an ADA, so she hadn’t really been available. And telling him about Josh wasn’t something she wanted to do via text message.

But during this case, he’d seemed like his old self. They’d seemed like them again. They had bantered, built theory…it didn’t feel like he was pulling away from her at all, and so Kate thought maybe she’d just been imagining things. He had even agreed to join the boys and her at The Old Haunt for drinks after she finished up the paperwork on the case.

She looked up from her paperwork when she felt his eyes on her and found him standing in front of her desk with a manila envelope. “What?”

“I got you a present,” he offered her the envelope with a smile as he sat in the chair next to her desk.

She took the envelope and couldn’t hide the small smile as she opened it and pulled out a signed cast photo from Temptation Lane. “How did you even get this?” she asked.

“I know people who know people,” he shrugged.

After studying him for a moment, Beckett shook her head, the look on her face saying she had given into his antics to tell her why she was a fan of the show. She watched as he leaned on her desk and cupped his chin in his hand, giving her his full attention. “Okay. I was 9 and I had to get

my tonsils taken out and I was miserable. And so, my mom took time off of work and stayed with me and cuddled up in front of the TV on the couch and we would watch episodes of Temptation Lane. So, every time I see it now, it just…it makes me feel like home and safe. So, there you go. Judge away.”

Castle listened patiently and offered her a smile. "My DVR would make yours look like Masterpiece Theater. But I am glad to know this about you.”

She offered him a smile, her eyes meeting his for what felt like the first time in weeks. “Castle, thank you for the photo.”

“You’re welcome.”

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth for a moment before deciding to continue. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after drinks at The Old Haunt?” she asked softly.

He inhaled deeply and put a smile on his face for her benefit. “Actually, I think I’m just going to make it an early night,” he declined her offer. He would love to have dinner with her…but he’d asked her to pick him only to watch her ride off into the sunset to Motorcycle Boy. It had been 3 weeks; she hadn’t said anything to him about it, so he assumed she really had chosen to stay with Josh. Continuing to work with her as friends was one thing, but he couldn’t put himself through the torture of seeing her outside the precinct.

The feeling that he was pulling away from her suddenly returned with a vengeance. “Some other time, then,” she said quietly, doing her best not to let her disappointment show.

“Yeah, maybe,” he continued to force his smile.

“I’ll see you with the boys at The Old Haunt. I just have about ten minutes of paperwork left, and I’ll be right behind you,” it was her turn to force a smile now.

“Sure,” he nodded, heading for the elevator.

The fake smile on her lips faded as he disappeared into the elevator. It wasn’t even half an hour later when she entered The Old Haunt and frowned when she saw the boys, but no Castle. “Hey, this Castle’s seat?” she gestured to the empty barstool next to Espo.

“Nah, he actually just left,” Espo shook his head.

“Yeah, he said something about making it an early night. But, drinks are on him tonight,” Ryan grinned, taking a drink of his beer.

She forced a smile as she took his abandoned bar stool and ordered herself a shot of Vodka along with a Vodka martini, downing the straight shot quickly while she waited for her other drink. Tonight beer just wasn’t going to cut it.

xxxxx

“Alright, Kate, spill. I was gonna give you until after your first glass to open up about whatever is going on, but you’re just staring into it like it’s got the answer to the secret of life,” Lanie said to her friend a couple of evenings later as she sat across from Kate at her kitchen counter, a bottle of red wine between them.

Kate looked up and took a big drink of her wine. “I think I messed up.”

“With Josh?” Lanie asked, her voice softening. She knew Kate had ended things with the doctor a couple of weeks ago, but she had sworn she was fine. Maybe it was finally hitting her.

“With Castle,” Kate shook her head.

“So tonight isn’t about Josh…the boyfriend of over 6 months that you recently broke up with; it’s about Writer Boy?” Seeing Kate nod, Lanie took another drink of her wine murmuring, “I don’t know if I brought enough wine for that...” Seeing her friend’s look, Lanie put her glass back on the counter. “So you’re not upset about Josh?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m upset that I hurt him, sure. But I’m not upset that I ended things. It wasn’t fair to him anymore, Lanie. We weren’t going anywhere...at least not where we should have been considering how long we were together. His heart was in his work…asking him to stay here wasn’t fair, not when…”

“Not when you realized you have feelings for Castle,” Lanie finished for her.

Kate gave her friend a knowing look before draining her wine glass and then putting her face in her hands for a moment. “Castle kissed me…I kissed him…we mutually kissed…” she tried to explain, rubbing her face and propping her forearms on the counter.

“What? When?” Lanie was shocked by this news.

“Which time?”

Lanie’s eyes just about popped out of her head. “Which time?! Girl, how many times have you and Writer Boy locked lips?”

Groaning, Kate held up 3 fingers as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

“Why am I just now hearing about this? You need to give me details.”

“Which time?” Kate asked again.

“Which…girl, if you don’t stop saying ‘Which time?’ and just start giving me all the details, I’ma smack you,” Lanie warned her. Clearly something had been going on for awhile, and Kate hadn’t bothered to keep her best friend in the loop.

She sighed and poured them both some more wine, finishing off the bottle. “You remember the Lockwood case, when Ryan and Espo were taken?”

“Kate, that was two months ago…” Lanie realized. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“I guess I thought I had everything under control.”

“Honey…I know you’re this badass detective, and you’ve got this whole Miss Independent thing going for you. But certain situations call for a girl's night with your best friend. Keeping all this bottled up inside is why you’re going to end up with an ulcer,” she told her friend sympathetically. “Now start at the beginning, and don’t leave out any details.”

That was exactly what Kate did. She started with the kiss during the Lockwood case that was supposed to be a ruse to fool the security guard, how later that night Castle had confessed he loved her and kissed her; continued with the undercover date at the nightclub and how Castle had wanted to start a scholarship to honor her mother's memory; how she and Castle had spent Valentine's Day together when he needed cheering up and Josh was stuck at the hospital, and how she had kissed him that night; how Castle had once again told her he loved her and asked her to pick him over Josh during the dirty bomb case; finished with Castle’s behavior from just a couple of days ago when he’d turned down her dinner invitation where she had been planning to tell him she’d ended things with Josh and how he’d left The Old Haunt early, probably to avoid spending anymore time with her.

“Damn, Kate. Can you really blame him though? The man actually said the words, ‘Pick me, choose me, love me,’ and then watched you walk away with the tall, dark, and handsome doctor you’d been dating for half a year! No wonder he didn’t want to go to dinner with you. He thinks you chose Josh over him! Castle is a lot of things, but he isn't a masochist.”

“But I didn’t!” Kate insisted.

“But he doesn’t know that. You never told him.”

“That’s why I invited him to dinner a couple of days ago…so that I could tell him,” she explained.

“Why didn’t you tell him right after you ended it with Josh?” Lanie pointed out.

“Because…” Kate trailed off with a shrug.

“Because why?”

She was quiet for a few moments. “Because I wasn’t ready to just jump into a relationship with Castle.”

“And you’re ready now?” Lanie arched an eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, Kate sighed. “I…don’t know.”

Lanie gave her friend a sympathetic smile. “Honey…you have to talk to him. Even if you’re not ready to be in a relationship with him yet, you need to put the poor guy out of his misery. You have to at least tell him you ended things with Josh. You owe him that,” she told her softly.

“How am I supposed to do that, Lanie? It’s not like I can just reveal that bit of news while we’re standing over a dead body at a crime scene like it’s no big deal.”

“You have his phone number. Text him. Call him. Hell, show up at his front door. It doesn’t matter how you do it, but you need to tell that man if you want any chance at a relationship with him in the future. Or do I need to remind you what happened last May when you didn’t speak up soon enough and he moved on with his ex-wife?” Lanie asked pointedly.

“No…no.” Kate drained the rest of the wine in her glass as Lanie brought up the catastrophe that was her attempt at maybe starting something with Castle months ago. That was the linchpin event that started this whole disaster of a mess she was in right now.

“You know…the way you felt watching him walk away with his leggy, blonde ex-wife is exactly the way he felt watching you get on that elevator with Josh,” Lanie pointed out.

“If he hadn’t walked away with his leggy, blonde ex-wife, Josh wouldn't have been in the picture,” Kate countered as she buried her face in her hands. But Lanie was right; she knew it. She knew how heartbroken Castle was because that’s how heartbroken she had been for the entire summer. And Josh had been her rebound…a rebound that had gotten a little out of hand, but a rebound, nonetheless.

Lanie chuckled at her friend’s snarkiness; that had to be the wine talking, and although her friend was nowhere near drunk, the wine had obviously dulled her filter. “Maybe, but that’s no reason to let Castle be as miserable as you were. Not if you really care about him.”

“You’re right,” Kate sighed. “I have to tell him. But…not tonight.”

“Why not tonight? No time like the present,” Lanie shook her head with a smile.

“Because I’ve had too much wine to trust my judgment around him tonight. Because the last time I was around him after only half this much wine, I would have ended up in his bed if Alexis hadn’t come home when she did.”

Oh yeah, Kate’s filter was definitely dulled. No way would she have admitted that piece of information without the wine. “I don’t think that was the wine,” Lanie smirked. Seeing her friend’s look, she laughed. “Kate, come on. You are head over heels for the guy…you have been attracted to him since you started working together.”

“I have not! I hated him in the beginning,” she insisted.

“I didn’t say you liked him, I said you were attracted to him. I’m still surprised you didn’t jump that man within the first couple of months with the way you two went at it sometimes,” she shook her head.

“Lanie…”

“My point is, you two have always had chemistry. Now you have feelings for each other. I don’t think the wine is what is going to push you into his bed,” she smirked. “And so what if you sleep together? Pretty sure the sex would be phenomenal. And it’s not like you both couldn’t use the release.”

Kate’s head dropped to where her arms were resting on the table. “Lanie…you are not helping!”

“Girl, I’m just giving you the facts as they are. Fact 1– you need to talk to Writer Boy. What you do to him or with him after that is up to you. Fact 2– having sex with the man wouldn’t be the end of the world. You’re both miserable right now; sex would go a long way to improve that for both of you.”

“Or make it worse,” she countered. “It would change everything between us. If we’re not on the same page…”

“Kate. The man told you he loves you…twice. He asked you to pick him over another guy. Those are not the actions of a man who has any intention of walking away from you if you give him the option to be with you. And from what you’ve said, you don’t have any intention of walking away from him. So what are you scared of?”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if I lose him?”

“What if it works out? You could be happy…really happy, Kate. Don’t you want that?”

“Sure, we could be happy for a while. But for how long? He’s a best-selling author���a freaking millionaire. He can do anything he wants, be with anyone he wants. I’m not an actress or a model…I’m just a regular cop with a lot of emotional baggage. Eventually, he’ll realize he’s bored, or he’ll get tired of dealing with someone who is closed off and broken, or I'll do something to push him away, and I’ll lose him. And that will destroy me.”

“Kate…” Lanie started softly, reaching for her friend’s hand. “If you don’t even try, you’ll eventually lose him anyway. Because at some point, one or both of you will move on, and it will hurt too much to see the other with someone else. You’ll repeat this same process until one of you can’t take it anymore and walks away,” she countered. “Look, I’m not telling you it will work out between the two of you. No one can. Love doesn’t come with a guarantee. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The man created a character, an entire book series based on you…it’s obvious to anyone who has read Nikki Heat that he’s crazy about you. Just…think about it, ok?” she offered a smile. “You owe it to yourself to be happy. And he could make you happy.”

Kate rubbed her hands over her face, digesting her friend’s words. She finally sighed. “I’m obviously going to tell him about Josh. But I don’t know that I’m ready to risk my heart. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to.”

xxxxx

I know…what a way to end the chapter, right? I hope you guys enjoyed this one, and I look forward to any comments you all may have on it!

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello, I wrote in a while ago about my son, and I think you should be made aware of everything that has happened since our letters aired, as you aided him in opening up about his true troubles at the time.

I did give him the privacy of not listening to his letter as it came on that night, which he probably would have quizzed me about if he’d still been awake when I got home. He’s still my son and several of my more, let’s say family oriented former colleagues, did heavily impress on me that I should respect whatever boundaries he draws, no matter how silly. That did partially lend me to think his sullenness was a new boundary that I didn’t dare directly cross.

I did also say former colleagues, as I took your advice and left my old line of work, completely severing any ties to it and giving up any nemesis statuses I might’ve racked up over the years,and opened up a small Etsy shop where I sell custom hand sewn clothing items. The patterns I remember from my youth are actually quite popular amongst longer lived genuses who are nostalgic about late 18th and early 19th century fashion, and sapio historical reenactors and fashion history enthusiasts. And who knew that the sleight of hand I developed during my old job would lend itself so well to hand sewing!

My son is also doing well. His bully issues have been solved with minor feather loss on her end (mostly due the stress from her actions making its way back to her convocation), and the school councillor has regular meet ups with her last I heard. I’ve also met my son’s boyfriend! A lovely young merman, who’s so very sweet. I’m glad he found someone nice and only begrudgingly understand why he kept them a secret from me. I do agree that I have the potential to be very intimidating to new people, especially those who have a real way of hurting my son.

I still listen to your broadcasts, especially the agonies section, but nowadays it’ll be when I’m up late felling the edges of my projects rather than hunting down whoever was on my list for the night.

May you have a wonderful week. Good night.

I'm so glad to hear you and your son are seeing eye to eye once more! I remember both your initial letter and his own, and recall how evident it was that both of you cared very much for one another, even as you struggled to find a way to communicate.

Well done on leaving your old job. I know it couldn't have been easy for you, but I admire your willingness to make difficult choices for the safety and happiness of your family.

As I said in my response, I never wished to shame or blame you for your son's forcible turning. That responsibilty lies firmly with the individual who attacked him.

But that individual was acting in response to your chosen career, and I am very glad you took my advice and have taken up a less dangerous profession - for yourself, and your loved ones.

You've demonstrated real care and consideration for him during this difficult period, and it's good to see that paying off in his newfound trust in you. I wish you all the best in your historical costuming endeavours.

It is always difficult as a parent to discern the line between respecting your child's privacy, and keeping them safe. But just as it was inappropriate for you to expect your son to defend himself against an attacked, it would have been inappropriate to disrespect his autonomy and independence.

I can't pretend I don't feel some small satisfaction at hearing his school bully has been suffering from the consequences of her behaviour. May her suffering be short-lived - but educational.

It sounds as if you've done a very good job of walking that line, making sure your son feels supported while also demonstrating that you can be trusted not to cross his boundaries – even those you may consider “silly”. You have more than risen to the challenge, and I wish you and your son all the best in the future.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]