#and on top of all that I’m getting fucked over in other ways from the ppl around me and it’s just like…ffs can you not?

[guksfairy]

fogged hearts | JJK

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | PLAYLIST

wc: 1.1k

notes: mentions of nsfw content, just them being cute, this is more of a filler…mwah I love you I hope you enjoy this!!

MDNI ´-જ⁀➴

The car was silent again, save for you and Jungkook’s gentle pants that were fading slowly as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll never get tired of you,” Jungkook’s hands are placed under your sweater, directly on your skin and on your waist with his thumb soothing your skin as it moves in small motions up and down. They’re soft. They’re home.

His cock was still deep in you but you could care less about that right now. You missed him so bad. So what if you wanted him then and there.

When Jungkook agreed to pick you up from the airport after your trip he had a whole thing planned.

He was to pick you up right outside the plane and hand you the flowers he bought on his way there. Then he’d take you to grab some good Korean food he’s sure you’d missed and drive you back home where you two would cuddle in your bed and watch a movie.

He hadn’t planned to fuck you raw in the back of his car before even leaving the airport. You didn’t care though. It’s a private airline and it’s not like any other cars were parked waiting for the jet anytime soon. You checked. So when Jimin offered you a ride back, you declined his offer with the excuse that your parents had already sent over a driver to pick you up. He left and less than a minute later, Jungkook had pulled up and walked out of his car, holding a bouquet of flowers looking as hot as ever.

Maybe it’s because you hadn’t seen him in a week or because his hair was just slightly messy but you wanted him so bad.

So you made that very clear to him when you both walked over to his car and instead of getting in the front seat like you usually do, you got in the back seat. Jungkook was confused for a moment until you threw your black lace panties, you removed from under your skirt, right onto his lap. Without hesitation, he gave you what you wanted.

“I missed you,” you reply with your flushed cheek against his clothed chest.

“Really? I would have never guessed that,” Jungkook’s playful reply earns a chuckle from you. You couldn’t help it. Even while you were on vacation with your friends, you made sure to always text or call Jungkook to update him of your activities.

“I’m serious though. I kept seeing couples everywhere and wishing you were there. I love my friends but you and I should get away too,” you had been thinking about it for a while. Your father had just given you your monthly allowance that you always mention is more than enough.

Maybe you could book a nice getaway with Jungkook. It was long overdue anyways.

“We should. I have a couple places I want to take you to,” at this you carefully sit up and stare at him. Your fingers running through his damp hair as you look at him with a smile growing.

“Yeah?”

“I have a list on my notes app,” he replies and your eyebrows raise.

“You’re kidding,” genuinely in awe because usually you’re the one who plans the places to visit when you two have a day off together.

“No, you can check baby,” he reaches for his phone that’s laid next to your purse on the center console and hands it to you.

You unlock his phone and open his notes app and sure enough, a the very top with the most recent edit, is a list titled, Date Ideas ❤️

“Koo~” you drag out his name as you scroll through his list, all with addresses right next to them.

There’s a couple restaurants listed along with cafes he thinks you’d enjoy the theme of. Some are places where you can make stuff together like ceramic dishes or matching phone cases.

The list goes on for a while and you feel like you’re never going to reach the end of it. Your mouth is slightly agape and Jungkook is starring at your reaction with a smug expression.

What can he say? He’s a good boyfriend.

“Koo why haven’t you mentioned this?” You put his phone down and wait for a response, “Because you almost always have a place in mind when I pick you up,” he replies and you nod. You’re always finding cute places on TikTok and Instagram and want to share them with Jungkook.

You’ve never had to struggle with the whole ‘where do you wanna go?’ or ‘where do you want to eat?’

“Okay well next time we’re checking something off your list,” you say and he jolts gently making you gasp. “Sorry baby I know you’re still sensitive but hand me my phone,” he says and you grab it again and hand it to him.

“What are you doing?” You ask and he tilts his phone so you could see his actions.

He unlocks his phone and scrolls through the list until he finds the one he’s looking for and ticks it off.

▣ fuck my love in a semi-public space

“That’s a date?” You laugh and he smiles back at you, “For me it is,”

For a moment you both stay silent and you take the opportunity to draw a heart in the fogged window. He reaches over and draws both of your initials in the middle. You take his phone again and take a picture of it before sending it to yourself. You’re not sure where your phone is. The second you landed, all you could think about was Jungkook.

“New lockscreen,” you mumble and he kisses the top of your head, “We got to get going baby,” he says and you want to whine but he stops you, “Round two at your place?” and your excitement is once again through the roof.

With gentle movements, you raise yourself off of Jungkook’s cock and land on your sweater he laid for you. He removes his sweater and uses it to clean the both of you, being very careful with you.

Shortly after you make your way to the front seat and so does Jungkook. He plugs his phone in and plays your playlist you made on his Spotify account.

The ride home is nice and quiet with the music playing throughout the vehicle and you couldn’t be happier to be back home to Jungkook.

[bubblingbowie]

just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

[rainytrashh]

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First Time

Fic type-> NSFW + request

Tags-> Sub/ bottom Jayce, Jayce’s first time bottoming, no protection/ cumming inside, so amab reader.

Word count-> 1560, just about a short story

AN-> I can’t find a way to reply to the initial req so I hope you find this anon, also it was a nightmare trying to publish this but I’m glad I got it done in a timely manner.

Masterlist | AO3

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“This ok?”

“Yes just, feels… different.”

You’re careful to ease your finger inside of him, for the first time that is. You’d both decided to ‘switch it up’ given Jayce is usually the one fucking you- not that it became boring or anything no way, (the rumours going around Piltover were in fact true) it’s just you’d been together long enough to start experimenting a little. And this seemed like a solid first step into unknown territory, at least for Jayce.

“That’s it.”

You mumble, leaning in to place gentle kisses against his jaw, trailing down to his neck and collarbones as you eventually reach your knuckle. You begin ever so slowly pulling it back out again when you feel his hand on your shoulder.

“Wait, wait just…”

“Yea?”

Stopping your movements you look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. He looks unsteady, sending a pang of worry through you.

“We don’t have to do this…?”

His mouth hangs open a second or two before answering.

“No I do want to, I do, and I don’t think you can be any gentler… but it’s all new and- and weird and…”

“Different?”

His lips form a small smile, you breathe a subtle sigh of relief at his reassurance.

“Yes, so let’s just, go slow.”

You take out your finger and grab the bottle of lube from beside you once more.

“Ok, do you want to adjust or anything? Then we’ll try again.”

He reaches behind him and takes one of the pillows he was laying his head on.

“Put this under me, I feel too sat-up.”

And that you do, you may feel a little further away from his face than before but that should change soon.

“Let’s try more lube this time, see if that helps.”

You squirt some on the same finger as before, getting some on the one next to it, and place one of his legs over the top of yours for a better angle.

Your eyes meet in a silent agreement before you look back down to the task at hand, placing one of your own on his waist.

The finger enters him once more, able to make it to the knuckle fairly quickly this time.

You steadily insert the second, making Jayce groan quietly at the stretch. You begin moving your fingers in, out and around without prodding too much just to get him used to the feeling. He takes a gasp of air when you brush over his prostate.

“Is-“

“Just keep going.”

It’s not like Jayce to interrupt. Glancing up you notice him staring at the ceiling, a faint flush on his cheeks. Deeming him a bit more than okay, you continue.

“Alright.”

You find the spot once more, curling your fingers and putting some pressure against it. Jayce only lets out a breathy moan and lets his eyes fall closed briefly.

“Yea that’s… that’s good.”

You smirk at his reaction.

“Hm, that’s an improvement.”

You continue like this for around a minute more, making double sure he’ll be ready for the real thing. You probably would’ve gone on for longer if he hadn’t started to get impatient.

“I’m ready, it’s fine now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes I’m sure, trust me.”

You take your fingers out and put some of the remaining lube on them on your ever-hardening dick. You grab the bottle and put some more on just to be safe.

“Just, c’mere, please.”

You shuffle closer to him on the bed, he puts his other leg on top your thigh without you having to ask him too. You bite your lip as you line yourself up, then slowly start pushing yourself in.

Jayce’s thighs flex as he tenses up.

“Just relax for me, nearly there…”

You think it good to start stroking him to distract from the foreign feeling. He sighs as you feel his body relax a little, you hook your other hand around one of his thighs near to his hips. Your bodies get pressed flush together as you enter him to the hilt.

“Ooookaaayyy…”

A breathy whisper from Jayce as he adjusts to the fullness inside of him. His hands land on you anywhere they can reach for support (and probably not knowing what to do with them otherwise). Needing some stimulation yourself, you roll your hips into him and lean down to kiss him too to distract from the movement. You both groan into the other’s mouth at all the new sensations.

Kissing down his jaw again he lets his head fall back and you feel his gentle pants against your ear.

“You feel so good Jayce, so tight.”

“M-more… please…”

He sounds hesitant, but equally as desperate. A tone you can’t resist.

You let your own need slip through the reigns as you start pulling your hips back more and more with each thrust. Jayce’s hands reach up your chest, one going up to squeeze your shoulder. He can barely contain his own noises as you find a steady but still gentle rhythm to fuck him to, now abandoning his dick in favour of holding his hips instead.

“C’mon, shit, you can do more.”

“We said we’d take it slow-“

“Fuck that…”, he looks up at you with those eyes you know all too well. His eyebrows furrowed but his eyes still wide- pupils blown,

“… so fuck me.”

You sigh and hoist one of his legs up so his calf rests on your shoulder. Your thrusts pick up again- only faster this time. He throws his head back as you make his body shift with them. An audible slapping sound echoes from your hips against his ass.

“Fuck!”

A light sheen begins to form on both of you, his dick now leaking against his navel- hard and twitching.

“God Jayce… doing so good f’me.”

You take hold of his cock in one hand and begin stroking in time with your thrusts, the other is placed next to his head to prop yourself up some more. This pushes him deeper into some sort of half-folded-missionary position. He moans as he looks down at the sight of himself getting fucked like this.

He throws his head back again to look up at you.

“Harder, please harder, I can take it, make me take it.”

You wouldn’t be surprised his he was rambling at this point and he already looks thoroughly fucked-out, so there’s not a chance you’re slowing down now.

“Fuckin’ hell, didn’t know you’d be so desperate for it.”

You let your head hang as you let go of his cock and opt for pulling his hips towards you more, dragging him down the pillows.

“Didn’t know it’d, it’d be so good- right there, please.”

Try to keep drilling into the same spot, fatigue starting to get the better of you with the pace Jayce has set.

“Always a… piece of work with you huh?”

Heavy breaths intertwine between you as you let your head fall just above Jayce’s shoulder, almost rutting into him like an animal. His moans and whines fuelling you now that you feel your legs start to shake-

“Harder.”

“No-“

“Why-“

“Need to cum, gotta pull out.”

“Inside...”

You groan into his shoulder as you feel his arms grip your back, nails digging into your flesh.

“Jayce… fuuuuck.”

The leg not pressed into his chest wraps around your waist, urging you not to move another inch. You come to a still as he presses you against him as best he can with his leg between the two of you, you can’t help but cum inside of him. He reaches down to touch himself as he arches his back into you, high-pitched whimpers being let out into your neck.

“Jayce-“

You feel his cum paint your stomachs as his walls spasm around your spent cock.

Both in a post-orgasm haze, you release your tight grip on the other. Just settling for a few seconds of being near each other before you start to get too warm against Jayce’s burning skin.

“We have to do that more often.”

“Come on, clean-up’s gonna be harder now that I came inside you.”

“It was better than I had thought it was going to be.”

You scoff and smile at his comment.

“I’m not one to over-hype things Jayce.”

— – - – — – - – —

A while later you two dry off after a shared shower, clean sheets on the bed. (courtesy of you, and only you).

“So, outta ten?”

Jayce tries to turn to look at you- already comfortable in bed- as he pulls on his sweat pants, stumbling a bit in his hunched flamingo-like position.

“Er, is that how we’re ranking sex now?”

“I don’t know, I just wanna know how it was. Thoughts, feelings, whatever.”

He doesn’t bother trying the strings at the front as he lays himself down across your legs.

“I told you already.”

“No I mean like, what happened to taking it slow you know?”

You smile knowingly at him, reading him like a book as he fidgets a bit.

“It was… really really good.”

“Aw, just good?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, before you wave a dismissive hand in his general direction.

“I get it, I get it.”

You both lay quietly for a few moments, both just taking in each other’s presence.

“Didn’t know you’d be a cumslut though-“

“O-kay, that’s enough talking for today.”

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[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 4: #20-11

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here, part 2 here, and part 3 here. thanks!

You know, I'd really planned to keep my re-reviews much shorter but I'm finding it harder to do so when I get into the anime I actually liked. Maybe that's a good thing.

And away we go.

20. Solo Leveling

Portal isekai, sad loser secretly gains crazy powers and instantly becomes a stoic gigachad, menu screens everywhere, entry-level power fantasy. You’ve seen it before. Honestly, Solo Leveling is total slop. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you’ve watched a couple isekai, like, ever, you’re not going to find much new here. There’s some interesting enough worldbuilding outside of the dungeon stuff; I did find myself intrigued by the level consideration given to how much this preponderance of portals would influence Korean economics and politics, and even moreso that much of the story so far revolves around how those corrupting powers can lead to hunters using dungeons as their own playgrounds for personal gain at others’ expense. There also seems to be a larger malefactor behind all of the menu screens driving protagonist Sung Jinwoo’s growth and titular leveling, so there’s the hook.

Even putting aside the few interesting parts of the otherwise boilerplate story, Solo Leveling both looks and sounds pretty darn good. The soundtrack is laden with Hiroyuki Sawano’s trademark build-ups and drops, and though the character art and dungeon designs aren’t always the most eye-catching (early on it did look like A-1 Pictures was going to default to “fuck it, we’re making money anyway” mode), the action animation goes absolutely bonkers in its best moments.

The second season is already up and running, and although I can barely remember anyone’s name outside of the protagonist (maybe that’s on me, I consume very little Korean media and am not great at retaining Korean names), I’m in this for the long haul. Great turn-your-brain-off action schlock.

19. Wind Breaker

At this point you could put a sign that says “DELINQUENT WITH A HEART OF GOLD” underneath a box-and-stick trap and I’d walk right in. I am not immune to your Josukes Higashikata, your Ryujis Sakamoto, what have you. The angry and violent type who will nevertheless stick up for what’s right and remain fiercely loyal to those they care about. Wind Breaker is rife with characters who fit that archetype, but it’s not exactly a delinquent anime so much as it’s a Dudes anime. More specifically, a Dudes Rock anime.

Yes, Wind Breaker’s ensemble cast is almost entirely Dudes, and they do indeed Rock. Protagonist Haruka is a self-inflicted outcast, and his tsundere ass does not appreciate all the positive attention he’s receiving after proving himself in street combat prior to his transfer to an all-delinquents high school. Nevertheless, he wants to fight his way to the top of his new environment, and if that means sticking up for the little guy along the way, all the better. 

I love that Wind Breaker’s overarching messages of self-improvement and helping the weak without expecting a reward are basically anathema for the base power fantasies that largely come from light novels over the past decade and change, but even moreso that Haruka, loner that he is, keeps having to learn that he’s not going to get anywhere without surrounding himself with the right people and relying on their support. Battle shonen are usually pretty blatant with this stuff, but to see it spelled out so clearly in a series like this just hits right.

Wind Breaker looks terrific at just about every step, too. Every single thing I’ve seen from CloverWorks from the past few years has been a bop, which makes it that much more maddening that this is the studio that bungled the Persona 5 anime and supposedly botched The Promised Neverland in its second season. I get that not everything works out as planned sometimes but I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop sometimes. I’m glad it’s been smooth so far, at least. Some pacing issues and a weird place to end the show, but I know for a fact I'll be there when this comes back in spring.

18. Laid-Back Camp, season 3

I am not immune to the Cute Girls Doing Cute Things genre, and when all is said and done I think Yuru Camp could very well stand alone at the top. A show this directly responsible for the uptick in camping culture and countryside tourism in Japan clearly holds some sway over pop culture, and it’s clearly deserved.

Returning to the present day after the 2022 film gave us a look at the Outdoor Club in adulthood, Yuru Camp’s third season gives us exactly what we wanted: More of the same. We largely focus on the solo expeditions of Rin, Nadeshiko, and the latter’s hometown friend Ayano as they trek to their collective meetup spot, and as the seasons change we get the entire gang together for some springtime hanami. It’s cute, it’s funny, it’s whimsical, it’s Yuru Camp. You know what you’re getting into at this point.

With studio Eightbit taking over the series in its third season, Yuru Camp still largely looks the same, and wonderfully so, but it can be a bit off at times: CGI vehicles look far more distractingly out-of-place, and for as gorgeous as the background art was in the first two seasons and movie, it can come across as a bit more uncanny this time out. I don’t know whether some of the shots of sakura branches were traced or run through some kind of AI post-processing from archival photos, and I hate to speculate on that, but given that this is the same studio that bafflingly under-animates the money printer that is Blue Lock, I can’t exactly put it past them.

Production quibbles aside, I can’t really complain about more Yuru Camp. It’s a bit lighter on plot than previous seasons, but this is a series that was light on plot to begin with. We get to spend time with these goofs, learn about camping and the Japanese countryside, and then maybe go touch grass ourselves. That’s a good message for a Cute Girls Doing Cute Things series to have: Go do your own cute things.

17. NieR: Automata Ver. 1.1a, part 2

The second half of this adaptation was going to be the metric by which fans of the 2017 action-RPG judged the whole work. The first half in 2023, covering the game’s A and B routes, was a solid if troubled production that did a good job of covering the narrative and action, even implementing surprising easter eggs from NieR Replicant along the way. Sloppy CGI integration in early episodes and a COVID-induced delay hampered things, though, so there were some nerves about the show’s return.

Any fears were quickly allayed once the second half of the series began, covering the real meat of the story in routes C-E. Ver. 1.1a immediately looked exceptional, with expressive character animation and fluid action sequences. Real pathos was instilled into the route’s early tragedies. Most welcome of all was the serious work put into expanding A2’s character and role in the story (as well as her backside). It felt like she’d gotten the short end of the stick narratively in the game, so it felt right to spend more time with her, tie her story in the present back to the past that was hinted at in the Resistance flashbacks, and just get to see her be a tsundere a couple times. I’m gonna have to go back and rewatch the whole series dubbed because I just know Cherami Leigh crushed it.

I’m of two minds about Ver. 1.1a as a whole: On one hand, this is just about as good an adaptation of the game as we probably could have gotten. On the other, a big part of what makes the NieR games’ narratives work so well comes from the fact that they could pretty much only be told through the framework of a video game. While Ver. 1.1a does a perfectly fine job of delivering the game’s narrative and providing its own take on the game’s extremely video-game-y ending, much of what makes NieR’s tragedies so impactful is the player’s agency (and occasional lack thereof) in these matters. 

Nothing can replace actually playing NieR: Automata as a means of experiencing its story, but Ver. 1.1a is a darn good companion piece, and one that may even hint at the future of the Drakengard/NieR franchise. Now if only Yoko Taro would focus on something other than gacha games and death game anime for two seconds…

16. Train to the End of the World

The writer/director duo behind Squid Girl came back to give us one of the best and most bizarre original anime this year. Train to the End of the World is overtly and unapologetically weird, and that’s the way I like ‘em.

This weird and wonderful trek across a warped and wildly varied landscape dazzles the eyes and rots the brain in unexpected ways, but it’s a stellar character comedy through and through. Shuumatsu Train’s oddball protagonists are goofy, galaxy-brained, and sometimes flat-out mean in ways that only teenage girls can be. The dialogue is expertly written and some of the punchiest I’ve ever seen in anime. The girls bicker, mess with strangers, and engage in the kinds of inane conversations you only have when you’re the most bored you’ve ever been in your life.

While rarely laugh-out-loud funny, Train to the End of the World is intrinsically hilarious. The sheer absurdity on display is the kind that leaves you just shaking your head in disbelief. One episode they’re playing House of the Dead to get out of a real-life zombie situation, and in another they’re acting out their favorite fictional anime that you, the viewer, are just expected to know about already. It’s a stupid show in the smartest ways; a classical Homerian epic with ruminations on the future, but also one where the girls threaten to wipe out a Lilliputian colony by peeing on it. It’s both eschatological and scatological. With the recent discourse over modern adaptations and interpretations of The Odyssey, this anime might as well be the nuclear option.

Train to the End of the World was a standout in a strong spring season, but it didn’t shake out super high in a long and darn good year of anime. That’s fine and all, but I really hope it ends up attaining the cult hit status it seemed destined for. 

15. Mayonaka Punch

This one had been distant on my radar for a couple of weeks after it premiered, but as soon as I found out it was a P.A. Works original, I picked it up immediately. Any original series by the studio that gave us Akiba Maid War’s glorious gut-wrenching insanity (as well as last year’s exceptional Skip and Loafer adaptation) is going to get my attention, and although Mayonaka Punch doesn’t quite reach the same highs as Akiba Maid War, it does try to match the latter’s most madcap moments.

I don’t have a better pitch than “Canceled YouTuber starts up a new channel with a house full of lesbian vampires,” nor do I really need one. Mayonaka Punch’s comedy largely revolves around the personality clash between the disaffected, avoidant Masaki and the pushy, hyperactive Live (who definitely wants Masaki for more than just her blood), but the whole cast is a riot. Throwing in a baby day trader, a taciturn fujoshi, and a big-titty pachinko fiend are just the right spices to make this a particularly tasty stew.

Chaos naturally ensues, and watching these women try to channel it into a successful YouTube channel is an easy recipe for comedy. Everyone has terrific chemistry and I was rapt with attention every time we got to learn more about each of these vampire girls’ history. What came as a huge surprise, though, was how potent some of the emotional hits ended up, even when it involved characters outside of the main pairing. The fact that the biggest one came in just the fourth episode was a masterstroke; I was already on board for the comedy but just like that I was fully invested in a character other than the one who wants to suck the protagonist dry. I’m not rephrasing that.

This one absolutely deserves to be a cult classic, and the door is left open just maddeningly enough at the end that I can only pray for more. Mayonaka Punch is a boatload of fun and deserves way more attention than it’s gotten. You can change that. Right now. Watch this show.

Prior to writing this, Fairouz Ai (Live’s voice actress and a huge presence in a handful of the shows I’ve already discussed) announced that she would be taking a hiatus from VA work following a PTSD diagnosis. I wish her all of the time, recovery, and support she needs.

14. Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2

The opening salvo in the ongoing Rumiko Takahashi revival (weird thing to say about a mangaka who’s still alive and working, I know) returned this year for the second half of its “all-stars” run, marathoning us through retellings of the classic manga’s greatest hits, the oddest of its many oddballs, and its spectacular, heartfelt conclusion. More Lum is always a good thing.

I’ve written plenty about Urusei Yatsura’s remake following each cour except the first, and I don’t have much more to add at this point. It’s a classic for a reason and it laid the foundations for dozens of jokes, tropes, and standards that are fundamental to comedy in anime to this day. Even when some of the jokes may come off as trite or tropey, it’s easy to see just how and why it made Takahashi so successful. The exaggerated slice-of-life hijinks, outsized slapstick, and time-and-space surrealness are just as much of a treat as the deep, eclectic cast. And to top it all off, here’s Ataru and Lum being a couple of freaks who deserve each other.

Even though the 46-episode run certainly feels truncated compared to the 191 episodes, six films, and ten OVAs that came before it, David Production did a fine job of putting a modern touch on such a classic work and highlighting its strengths. And even though most of the run was an abridged run through the greatest hits, I’m really glad the studio made sure to dedicate the last few episodes to the manga’s final arc, bringing Lum and Ataru together in a beautiful and (briefly) satisfying climax.

And even for as satisfying as that ending was, it was nearly overshadowed by…

13. Ranma ½ (2024)

…the revival of Takahashi’s biggest hit.

Yes, right on the heels of the ending of the remake of her landmark romcom classic, came the announcement that her even BIGGER landmark romcom classic was also getting a remake. Ranma ½ is one of the hallmarks of 90s anime writ large, working late-80s Japan’s fascination with Chinese martial arts (partially due to Dragon Ball’s success) into a romantic-comedy framework that also accidentally served as the genesis of the harem genre. I’d somehow never actually engaged with Ranma prior to the remake, so I was happy to get in on a new ground floor and I was immediately sold.

As the youngest daughter of the Tendo Dojo, Akane Tendo is put in a predicament when her father betrothes her (at her sisters’ urging) to his friend’s son, Ranma Saotome. Though both are skilled fighters and a good match in that regard, Akane is a bit of a hothead and doesn’t much care for boys, so she’s not a fan of this arrangement, but it’s made all the more bizarre by the fact that Ranma is also a girl sometimes. Thanks to a bizarre accident in China, Ranma turns into a girl when soaked with cold water and back into a boy when hit with hot water. Shenanigans ensue as Ranma and Akane’s contentious relationship hits innumerable peaks and valleys, all the while fighting off an ever-growing menagerie of powerful, fight-happy suitors gunning for the hands and lips of Akane and both versions of Ranma.

MAPPA of all studios being the one to re-adapt Ranma came as a surprise, and you probably could’ve convinced me David Production took over this Takahashi adaptation as well. Ranma’s remake adopts several of the same visual flairs you’d see in Urusei Yatsura, including the Ben Day dots, color inversions, and manga-style onscreen onomatopoeias. On the other hand, while most of the moment-to-moment character animation is pretty much what you’d expect from any given anime, several of the action sequences are very well-animated to MAPPA’s typically high standard. I just hope the animators weren’t getting the Chainsaw Man or Jujutsu Kaisen treatment.

Ranma ½ is as hilarious as ever, but it can get a little wonky thematically when it comes to gender politics, boundaries, and expectations, as I’d been made aware before ever engaging with the work. I also knew from the Urusei Yatsura remake that this was basically Takahashi’s wheelhouse, as there are a couple of pretty genderbendy characters in there as well. Several of the male antagonists in Ranma are more than a little pushy when it comes to women who catch their eye, and a lot of the humor around Ranma’s gender swaps revolves around how their male socialization affects the lack of modesty with which they present their female form (more on that later). People who are much better versed in gender matters than myself, both academically and personally, can speak on the positives and negatives of these things much better than I can, and it’s too early in the series for me to really make a judgment call. I do think it’s odd, though, that even with the central romance, Akane doesn’t seem to remotely entertain the thought of getting involved with Ranma’s female side, and unfortunately I don’t really see that ever happening. So far, all of these things just come across as flat-out silly and more of a product of its time than anything nefarious. 

The original Ranma ½ adaptation remains a seminal work for a solid generation and a half of anime fans, so of course a remake was going to be met with some criticism. Some didn’t appreciate the more muted color palette compared to the late 80s/early 90s Studio Deen version, and while it’s certainly missing some of the flair of the hand-painted backgrounds and saturated lighting effects the medium has missed since that era, I personally like the softer hues; I find them a lot more reminiscent of Rumiko Takahashi’s own colorations for her art outside of the manga. It’s not as technicolor as the Urusei Yatsura remake, but I think that actually helps set the new Ranma apart rather than riding the former’s coattails.

The main difference people seem to be complaining about, however, has more to do with boobs. Takahashi has never been shy about including nudity in her manga, and in an era where uncensored bazongas were perfectly fine to publish in boys’ manga magazines, she was typically more matter-of-fact about the female form instead of pursuing titillation. As such, a story like Ranma’s, in which its title character is typically blase about presenting their female incarnation modestly, had a lot to work with on that front, and the original anime played along.

Not so with the MAPPA version. Nipples are conspicuously missing in scenes that legitimately do call for nudity, and an ass crack appears to be missing from an early scene as well. Personally, I don’t mind the Barbie doll treatment, and as I’d been reading the manga as the anime’s story progressed, I didn't find all that much missing in the transition from page to screen. Weebs tend to convince themselves they’re the most oppressed people on earth, so of course there were cries of censorship, which is a claim I don’t really care to entertain. These are different times, broadcast regulations in Japan are almost certainly different from what they were 35 years ago, and Netflix and/or MAPPA likely didn’t see the need for it. Could be any of those things. I’m not losing sleep over it.

And with that, I’m done talking about Rumiko Takahashi (for now). I’m grateful for everything related to her work, even tangentially, that came out this year, and my life is richer for it. I’m glad to have gotten into her work in earnest this year, and I can say with all conviction (hot take incoming) that she’s one of the greatest mangaka ever. I look forward to diving further into even more of her work.

12. The Elusive Samurai

I’d have been perfectly happy if Wind Breaker had been CloverWorks’ only beautifully-animated oddball shonen hit this year, and then they went and outdid themselves the very next season with this one.

The Elusive Samurai is a gorgeous, timeless-looking piece of historical fiction beginning at the very end of the Kamakura period, following the last survivor of the Hojo clan, the young Tokiyuki, as he’s urged by an eccentric priest to lead a pack of freedom fighters and take revenge. Despite coming from a prominent family within the shogunate, Tokiyuki was an impertinent kid and preferred to play hide-and-seek instead of attending any combat training. The priest, Yorishige, receives a vision of the future that predicts that Tokiyuki will fell his family’s usurper not by becoming a powerful warrior, but by doing what he’s already best at: Being a squirrelly little shit.

I just gushed about how good this show looks three months ago, and even now I’m thinking back fondly on how well it blends whimsy with brutality. You can have Yorishige and the kids goofing off and cracking jokes one minute and vibrant crimson beheadings the next. Even little Tokiyuki makes a joyful game out of slicing a bandit’s veins to ribbons later in the season. It feels like a callback to anime films and OVAs of the 80s, with the film grain effect to match. Almost every single thing about this show looks and sounds incredible.

Of course, there’s the CGI. I really don’t like complaining about that sort of thing, but it was such a blatant and unnecessary cost-cutting move that it almost cheapens the rest of the show. Look, I get that horses can be a pain to hand-animate after a while, but having characters’s CGI models speaking while riding on horseback is just enough to take me out of the show, especially when they already look as bizarre as, say, Sadamune. How that passed muster with the rest of the show’s standard is beyond me.

So, maybe I did dock it a spot or two for that, but I see that as a wrinkle that can be ironed out. The Elusive Samurai is absurdly promising, and its debut season is a tremendous statement. Can’t wait for more.

11. Makeine: Too Many Losing Heroines!

As I made clear last year by putting 100 Girlfriends’ debut season in my top ten for 2023, for as much as I love a good straight-up romance story, I have ample room in my heart for trashy dipshit romcoms as well. Makeine shares that affection and forges its own identity from it, establishing its own throne atop a hill of garbage.

This is not a “yeah it’s good if you can look past the tropes” show. Makeine is firmly on its bullshit, and it is firmly about its bullshit. It’s not nearly as off-the-wall as 100 Girlfriends, few shows are, but it’s well aware of your expectations and leaves you guessing whether you’ll have them expertly subverted or just thrown right back in your face. Even the protagonist, the light novel fanatic Nukumizu, is calling out the tropes as they happen, but it’s been a fun time watching him learn that he’s more than just a wet-blanket LN protagonist. He thinks he’s just along for the ride like any other blank-faced self-insert in these stories, as gets roped into the personal lives of these poor girls and learns that, yes, they are real people and that, yes, he is too.

I could go on and on about Too Many Losing Heroines’ idiosyncrasies and offbeat characters and punchy dialogue, but I did that plenty just a few months ago. Instead, I want to call attention once more to just how freakishly well-made this show is. A-1 Pictures had zero reason to go this hard on a goofy, trashy light novel romcom adaptation, and yet here they were, throwing their A-team at the whole project. Character animations are intricate, background art is sumptuous, lighting effects immaculate, and music on point at all times. The OP is an earworm (and one of a surprising number of ska intros and outros I’ve taken in this year), and having each of the main titular heroines perform her own story-appropriate ED was a masterstroke. Even the visual gags are perfect and allowed to land on their own.

I already cannot wait for more of this. If A-1 has given us all we’re going to get of the Kaguya-sama anime, then I’m as all-in on Makeine as they are. Not the best romcom out there, but easily one of the best-made out there.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

It's Never Too Late for Christmas

Alright, look. This might be the fluffiest thing I have ever written. It's barely 1000 words so don't anyone come for me saying I've gone soft. Probably takes place a few weeks after First Night Home. Due credit to @deluxewhump's Wishbone for getting me thinking of the smell of Home. Wow, see what I did there: Full circle.

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“Merry Christmas!” Leo says, immediately wanting to dial it back. He holds out the repurposed brown grocery bag between them. 

Aiden looks down, one arm crossing over his torso. “But...mmm’it’s not…” 

Definitely too much enthusiasm. 

Leo lowers the bag. “Right, yeah. I just thought—well, we only missed it by a few weeks…you know back when we met. I mean… It seemed like…” 

Why had this seemed like a good idea again? 

“It’s nothing big,” he tries but Aiden won’t look at him. Like Aiden’s the one who misstepped instead of vice versa. The kid grips his own arm like it’s a lifeline, fingertips digging into his flesh. Never mind that he’s wearing just a t-shirt in late February. Even with the heat a few degrees warmer than he used to keep it, Leo has to bite his tongue to not ask if he wants a sweatshirt. He tries to limit his questions to the ten thousand a day he can’t avoid. 

“I didn’t even wrap it really,” Leo rushes to say. “It’s never too late for Christmas. ‘Honour it in your heart and try to keep it all the year’, you know—” God, stop talking. “‘Live in the Past, the Present, and the Future’—”

Well, at least he got the kid’s attention. Albeit paired with a confused and I’m-embarrassed-for-you grimace. 

“Please, just take it. Put me out of my misery.” 

Aiden takes a half step back but he does. 

Because Leo told him to. Fuck, this was a terrible idea.  

He holds the bag from the bottom with both hands, as gingerly as if something might be alive in there. His eyes flash up to Leo’s before he reaches inside. He opens his mouth once, twice, like he’s trying to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he looks to Leo for permission again. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” he says absently, still stuck on what Aiden stopped himself from saying. 

The way the kid reaches into the bag with all the gusto of sticking his hand into a live fire hollows Leo’s chest. Once his fingers meet fabric instead of whatever horrors he’s expecting, Aiden pulls the bundle out with a little more conviction. 

Leo relieves him of the bag, fingers unconsciously creasing it back up along all the seams, as he watches Aiden unfold the jacket. For the past few weeks, he’s lent Aiden his Carhartt and carried rather than worn an embarrassingly retro ski parka. 

“I—” He looks at Leo, something between disbelief and awe in his face. 

“Try it on—I mean, you can try it on if you want to,” he revises. 

He threads a skinny arm through the first sleeve. 

Leo reaches around to hold the jacket so he can reach the other. “It’s the same size as mine…so you can wear more layers while it’s cold.” 

Aiden fingers the ends of the sleeves. “Thank…you...” 

“The color suits you,” Leo blurts, caught off guard by the shy smile Aiden’s trying to hide while inspecting the coat. A total one-eighty he hopes isn’t just Aiden placating him. 

–––

“Aiden? Are you ready?” Leo calls up the stairs as he heads to the door to get his shoes on. “We need to leave in two minutes if we’re going to—” 

He’s already there. 

Standing by the door with the Converse pulled on, the laces tucked inside, and wearing Leo’s jacket. He bites his lips together as he pulls the zipper up, slow enough for Leo to stop him. When he reaches the top without interruption, he lets his gaze slide over to the new navy jacket, still hanging from its hook, and back to Leo. 

He lets out the laugh he’s been holding in and pulls on the coat. “I knew there was a reason I got this in my size.” 

“Color…mmm’s-s-suits…you,” Aiden says, tucking his chin into the soft collar of the old brown jacket, hiding what Leo is sure is a grin. 

Leo scoops him into a hug. “You’ve been plotting this from the beginning, haven’t you?” He swings them side to side a little, the gentlest roughhousing. Aiden shakes his head against Leo’s chest, he’s laughing now but trying to hide it. “This is absolutely not going to work when I buy you workboots. We are not the same size.” 

Aiden’s reply is muffled so Leo pulls back just far enough for him to lift his head. “Layers,” he repeats, barely able to get it out before he’s shaking with laughter again, pressing his face into Leo’s shoulder.  

“You’re incorrigible.” Before he can overthink it, he presses a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. He smells like home. His home. H— 

Leo backpedals against the possessiveness before he even completes the thought. 

But the part of him that spent countless nights wondering if he’d wake up to an empty house finds it profoundly comforting. The evidence that on the basest, organic level Aiden belongs to this home. Has been engrained in its rhythms and smells. The fabric softener from the sheets he tangles up every night, the lavender shower gel he picked out himself, toothpaste from brushing his teeth after the breakfast they cooked together. 

And not least of all, Leo himself. Wrapped up in his arms and wearing his old jacket. 

Home. 

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@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

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@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

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[leftoverghosts]

(challengers)tennisplayer!rafe x manipulativeprotégé!reader

warnings: nsfw!! cunnilingus, rafe f*cks reader in the v*gina with a tennis racket, curse words, obsessive rafe. probably others, so consume at your own discretion!!!! no y/n. not beta read.

nori says: i know that i kept promising this was on the top of my list, but here we finally are!!!! i am going to seek mental help. as always tell me if you like it! xoxoxo

word count: ~2,050?

The afterparty was a blur of lights, laughter, and champagne. You floated through it all, basking in the glow of your victory, the women’s US Open trophy still fresh in your mind. Art, your head coach, had been beaming, his pride unmistakable as he stood on stage and introduced you as “the epitome of tennis.”

Rafe had been there too, of course.

His brooding figure stood in the corner, nursing a drink, and his presence pressed down on you even from across the room.

You noticed him, as you always did, but chalked up his silence to his second-place finish in the men’s division—a tough pill to swallow for someone as fiercely competitive as him.

When you both retreated to your hotel suite, the atmosphere did not lighten.

Rafe's body leaned against the doorframe, arms tightly crossed over his chest as his gaze followed your every move. You could feel a dark energy pulsating off of him, unrelenting and dangerous.

“You’ve been quiet all night,” you said lightly, trying to cut through the tension. “Come on, baby, second place at the US Open? That’s huge.”

He scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Don’t patronize me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m not—”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he cut in, his voice sharp as a knife. “Jumping into Art’s arms like a goddamn bitch in heat. Do you have any idea how that looked?”

His words sliced through the glow of your win. “Rafe, I was excited. You know how hard coach and I have worked for this. It wasn’t about—”

“Not about me?” he interrupted, his tone bitter. “It’s never about me, is it? Not with Art breathing down my neck, not with Tashi looking at me like I’m some charity case, and definitely not with you parading around like any-fucking-body can just touch you.”

His voice dripped with bitterness, leaving you momentarily speechless. "That's not fair," you responded, your tone softer now. "We’ve all been by your side this whole time—especially me." It was true; you were a media darling, and Tashi had strategically sacrificed some of that adoration to clean up after Rafe and his wild, drug-induced behavior on multiple occasions.

“Have you?” he challenged, stepping closer until the space between you felt suffocating. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel that way when you ran past me to hug Art after your win—like I was nothing. Just another loser in your storybook ending.”

“Rafe, stop,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered. “You’re twisting a simple hug into something it’s not.”

He didn’t stop. Instead, he closed the distance, his eyes locking onto yours with an ferocity that made your pulse quicken. “You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, his voice dropping to something darker, quieter.

Before you could react, he moved. His hands gripped your waist, and in one swift motion, he pushed you onto the bed.

The world tilted as your back hit the mattress, the bounce jarring you. You barely had time to catch your breath before he loomed over you, his jaw clenched, his stormy eyes drilling into yours.

“You really didn’t think, did you?” he was simmering with anger.

“Rafe—” you started, but he cut you off, his hand pressing into the bed beside you, caging you in.

“Don’t,” he snapped, his face so close you could feel the heat of his breath. “Don’t say my name like that. Like you didn’t spend the whole night pretending I don’t exist.”

“That’s not what I was doing,” you said quickly, your chest tightening. “I see you, Rafe. More than you realize.”

“Then why the fuck do you make me feel like this?” he demanded, his voice raw and breaking.

He pulled back slightly, his hand brushing over your waist as if searching for control. “You let Art touch you,” he muttered, his voice trembling with restrained fury. “You let him claim you in front of everyone.”

Your stomach soured. “Art is my coach, Rafe. He’s like a father to me.”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, his voice cracking. “He looks at you like you belong to him. And you let him.”

You stared up at him, trying to keep irritation from bleeding into your tone. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he shot back, his eyes blazing. “Because I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t naive, nor were you the ‘good girl’ Art Donaldson thought you were. You’d been recruited onto his team by Tashi, who saw you for who you really were—her protégé. You, your little skirt and your overwhelming talent, were as much there to breathe life into Art Donaldson’s ego as you were for Tashi to watch you play some damn good tennis.

What’s more, you knew how Art felt about you.

Rafe wasn’t crazy—at least not about this. But you couldn’t let him have control. You couldn’t let Tashi, the reason you’d even picked up this sport in the first place, and her preaching about men being tools to wield, down. So, as much as Rafe’s emotions and obsession weighed on you, a strange joy stirred inside you from knowing you held the power to provoke his protective nature.

“Let me make it up to you,” you said softly, your voice smooth and placating. You were frustrated that he hadn’t brought home a trophy today, but with a little encouragement, he might still find his way. He might not land a career Grand Slam, but Tashi had once told you that, in the long run, if he were your husband, it was better for him to be a champion than not. “Let me make you feel good. I’m yours, Rafe. No one else can claim that.”

He froze, his gaze mellowing just slightly before the anger surged again. “Prove it,” he murmured, stepping back to gather the things he was going to use to torment you.

Terror and arousal coiled together in your stomach as you waited, your pulse thundering in your ears.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, and you snapped them shut, hearing him approach.

With expert hands, Rafe pulled you by the legs towards the edge of the bed and hiked up your cocktail dress. His fingers, adorned with his signature rings, trailed along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine as goosebumps rose on your heated skin. He parted your legs and settled between them, his broad shoulders forcing them open even wider.

His fingers brushed over your lace panties, the delicate material already damp with your arousal. He traced the lacy edge, teasing, before hooking a finger under and pulling the flimsy barrier aside. Cool air kissed your exposed flesh and you whimpered, squirming against the rumpled sheets.

"Stay still," Rafe commanded.

You froze, breath catching as he explored your body, gliding through the evidence of your desire. Slowly and torturously, he circled your entrance with a thick digit, teasing and drawing out the aching need within you before finally pushing deep inside. His mouth descended on you, tongue swirling around your sensitive bud as he sucked it between his lips.

Your back arched off the bed as he hummed low in his throat, sending vibrations rippling through you.

A second finger joined the first, stretching you deliciously as his tongue continued to flick relentlessly over your clit, grazing it lightly with his teeth before circling it with the tip of his tongue in electrifying patterns that had you gasping and writhing.

"Rafe," you moaned, hips bucking against his face. In response, his other hand gripped your thigh, holding you still, open and exposed to his hungry mouth.

He worked you mercilessly, fingers pumping, twisting in just the right way to make your thighs quake. His tongue swirled and flicked, alternating between feather-light brushes and firm, focused pressure that had you seeing stars.

The pressure built tighter and tighter in your stomach.

"Oh God, Rafe," you whimpered, hands fisting the bedspread. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room.

He released your clitoris with a lewd pop. "That's it, baby. Let me hear you, I want the whole fucking hotel to know who's making you feel this good."

You were startled by the sudden sound of a condom being ripped open, and your heart thumped even faster with anticipation. Then, you felt something hard and sleek against your entrance. Bewildered, you opened your eyes and reached out to grab the object—your beloved tennis racket handle covered in a condom.

“Didn’t I explicitly instruct you to stay still?" He pushed your hand away with a swat. "You thought you could manipulate me with your sweet words and I would give in, didn't you?” He spat on your entrance for extra lubrication, shaking his head at you. "You're going to take this."

After a moment, you nodded your consent, but the sensations were unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

Rafe took his time, gently working the makeshift dildo in and out. He started slowly, letting you adjust to the unique shape and size, before gradually increasing his speed.

Your body quivered with delight as he angled the handle to stimulate your most sensitive areas. The condom covering the racket provided a smooth glide, allowing Rafe to thrust powerfully while still being careful. His other hand roamed your curves, leaving trails of tingling heat behind each touch

The stretch and fullness was divine. Soft moans escaped your lips with each plunge of the handle. Rafe groaned appreciatively at the erotic sight of the improvised toy disappearing into your depths again and again.

Rafe worked the racket handle further and faster, the ribbed grip plunging in and out of your dripping center, the friction bordering on overwhelming. You gasped and arched your back at the intense stimulation, hands gripping the bedsheets.

"That's it, take it all," he laughed. "Art could never fuck you like this, could he? I bet he fantasizes about pounding your tight little pussy with his wrinkled cock."

You could only moan in response, the vulgar words sending a twisted thrill through you as he violated you with the very tool of your trade. It felt so wrong but so incredibly good at the same time.

He chuckled darkly. "Old man probably can't even get it up anymore."

You shook your head, lost in the forcefulness of the sensations consuming your body. Art was the furthest thing from your mind right now.

"And what about Tashi, huh? You let her touch you like this? She’d love to shove her fingers in your greedy hole, make you her little bitch."

"N-no, only you Rafe," you choked out between moans, the crude language still heightening your arousal.

"Damn right. This pussy belongs to me." To punctuate his point, he bullied the handle in hard, burying it to the hilt.

Filthy wet sounds filled the room as Rafe set a ruthless pace, fucking your tender flesh with brutal thrusts. Your inner walls fluttered and clenched around the hard shaft, drawing it impossibly deeper.

"Shit, look at you, I bet you wish the cameras were here now. Let everyone see the women's champion getting off on her own racket like a desperate whore."

His thumb found your clit, rubbing unforgiving circles as the handle slammed into you.

"Art and Tashi can praise you all they want," he said lowly, possessively. "But never forget that I'm the only one who can wreck you like this."

With a few more well-timed prods, your body was overcome with ecstasy. Tears streamed down your face as you called out Rafe's name, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continued to work the tennis racket in and out of you, prolonging your orgasm for his own amusement.

As the aftershocks subsided, you collapsed. Rafe delicately discarded the handle and repositioned you so your head dangled over the edge. The sound of his pants unzipping echoed through the room as he freed himself.

He stroked, once, twice, then tapped his erection on your tear-streaked cheek to get your attention.

You struggled to focus on his expression— that maddening smirk.

"Open up, slut."

[jemmo]

I don’t think I’m gonna be able to put it into the right words, but I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to watch that final episode of miseinen. bc it is one thing to mention marriage in a show about two men in a country where that’s not legal; it’s one thing to mention it as an inevitable, as just a waiting game, and leave it there, just as it’s one thing to mention it as a fantasy, or as something a couple doesn’t need to prove or certify their feelings. it’s another thing to show, even for just a short 30 minute episode, what that waiting actually feels like, and the kind of feelings being in that no man’s land of wanting but not being able to have can bring up. bc i can’t think when ive ever seen a bl touch on it so explicitly, at least not off the top of my head, or at least not to the extent of dedicating a whole episode to that feeling. bc you really feel how complex and indescribable that feeling is for jin in that episode, and while it’s mixed with that still lingering fear of haruki leaving and one day suddenly not being there, you feel that it’s not just for that certainty that he wants to be married. he wants the whole package of it, because he truly loves haruki. he sees his friends have relationships and talk about marriage, he feels the pressure from his mom and the rest of the people around him to think about marriage. and that’s exactly the thing of it. it’s not just that he can’t get married, it’s the fact that he has to hide the fact he wants it, and hide his relationship altogether. it’s not simply just marriage, it fits into a wider thing of him initially accepting his queerness and now not knowing if or how he wants to share that with other people. it’s just like- i really don’t want to gush but holy fuck it’s just so excellently done. bc you feel how different it is from haruki too, and it goes back to their differences in upbringing, bc haruki, after the difficulties he’s gone through, now finds it easier to accept and share these things bc he’s never exactly had anyone that would be impacted by this, but not only does jin have people to tell, he’s also been raised to follow a very traditional path in life, the one with least resistance, which very much means marrying a woman and having children and all of that. and it’s not that he can’t accept that he won’t do that, bc we’ve seen throughout the show how he has always faced what he’s been told is right with the open mindedness to question whether it is right, or right to him. but we’ve also seen through the show that the people around him do not have that same openmindedness, it’s why he never shared his friendship with haruki with anyone and now doesn’t want to share his relationship. but what i want to stress most is that the show perfectly shows that it’s not black and white. he is not choosing not to say anything, but he’s also not forced to stay silent. you see the greyness not just bc the situation is nuanced, but also bc at the end of the day it’s a human making this decision, and a human does not simply take in inputs and output the right decision and stick by that. you see him want to say something, you see him pull back, you see him be resentful of the way things are but also learn to accept that that’s how they are at the moment. you just… you see him live through having that in his head and what it feels like on any particular day and it’s just so incredibly amazing and important to see that in a character. it feels so fucking human. and i didn’t expect to get so emotional over a special ep about marriage, esp bc ive never much cared for marriage, ive never found it necessary, but when you take the time to show that it’s what 2 characters want, dedicate a whole ep to showing it, instead of just using it as a default happy ending, well… it’s just the cherry on top to a show that’s been absolutely fucking phenomenal. i will stan this show till i die thank you very much.

[swifty-fox]

wip snippets of the week:

sweet water (Little Beasts P6)

“Would you quit it,” Gale hisses, effect altogether ruined by the throatiness of his voice, all rasp and need, like he might weep if John didn’t get his mouth back on him soon. 

“Would you undo that top button, baby,” John croons right back, “Might choke yourself out before I can make you come.”

Love Song from a Dog

The rain tastes sweet. 

Tastes like grass, and freshness, and like the sky only without any metallic tang of flak or blood. It’s dripping down his face, peppering his skin like tiny bullets that cause no pain or damage, prodding at him in silent little impacts. You are here! You are here! 

The lights aren’t on inside the Cleven house, sat hulking in the center of the prarie like a slumbering beast. The sky rumbles a warning above him, or perhaps an encouragement. It’s not altogether unkind, whatever God or Nature is trying to tell him, even if he’s got nothing to say back to either. 

God still talks to you, Johnny had said to him quietly, once, in the Stalag. His face corpse-pale and skinny with desperation. He said it cautiously, like John might bite him for his words at any moment and John hadn’t been exactly disinclined to the notion. God still talks to you, whether you wanna listen or not.

Never listened to God, if I’m bein’ honest Brady. But sometimes I gave him a little lip.

He’s left the gun in the glovebox, but staring up at that house feels like staring down an empty barrel all the same.  

“I know it’s a sin,” he says to the rain, “Know either of them are a sin, left turn or right. But I think— of all the ones I’ve committed. I think either are a little smaller. Already goin’ to hell, Lord. But I hope you’ll forgive me either of these two choices.”

A light in the house flicks on. 

John inhales a shaky breath, full of fresh water.

unnamed new au

“You feel a strong need to protect me, just like you felt to protect your mother.”

“He never hurt us though,” Gale protests, “Never laid a hand on either of us, was just a lotta shoutin’ and nastiness.”

“But you learned from an early age the violence he was capable of,” Helen says calmly. “You knew he was capable of harm.” 

Gale digs his nails into his palm.

Wild Eyes snippet (@blixabargelds and i's psych ward au)

He reaches for the water the concerned waitress had shoved into his hands before they left, sipping the tepid liquid and plucks another morsel off the now cold bread-roll she'd given them too. Pops it between his lips and presses it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue until it grows sodden from saliva and crumbles away to a paste that he swallows down. Needly, childish, he looks out of the corner of his eye to see if John has noticed. If it has taken the edge off his anger; softened him back into the John who'd sat across from Gale in the cafeteria, stubble growing in around his weak mustache and running his mouth until Gale had painstakingly nibbled his way through an entire Jello cup. Smiled at him like he'd done something phenomenal. 

John’s got his eyes on the road, one hand on the gear shift, thumbing over the leather handle of it. 

“You mad?”

John sighs, through his lips in a slow, pursed gust, “Nah, not mad.” 

“So you’re somethin’.”

rabbit skin (mob au)

“Do they know?” John croons, every word a ragged pant as their bodies slide together, “Do they all know you’re faking being a fucking lamb? Do they know you were raised to be a wolf?”

Gale frees a hand, pulls it back into a fist and cracks it across John’s nose. 

Pain blooms sharp and quick in his knuckles, followed by a wave of fear – not for John, whose head snaps to the side with a muffled curse, but for the state of his hand. 

The other man just laughs, and kisses him. Gale can taste the copper on his top lip, rich and meaty and tangy like a mouthful of pennies.

[vanfleeter]

Old Flame

Summary: After a failed marriage comes to its end, Jake finds himself on the doorstep of an old flame. One he learns he never should have let go out. Characters: Jake Kiszka x Anna Word Count: 8.1k Warnings: 18+ || Language. Adult Themes. Adult Sexual Themes. Angst. Divorce. Affair. Yelling. Arguing. Throwing things. Tears. Self doubt. Ultimatums. Toxicity. Broken and strained relationships. Smut. Sex. Penetrative sex. Fluff. Soft Jake. (as always let me know what I missed so I can add it to the list)

Jake swiped his pen over the documents, signing each one with a ballpoint pen. He scoffed to himself as he dropped the pen to the granite countertop and slid the papers across the smooth service away from him. They had only been married for a year before she made the first move towards a divorce. Why? She just didn't want to be tied down. Whatever the fuck that meant. Due to their prior agreements, she got half off his money in the end.

Sliding off the barstool, he walks over to the drink cart in the living room and pours himself a drink.

“Just because this happened, doesn't mean we can’t be–” She tried to speak before he cut her off.

“We can’t be anything.” He says, lifting the glass to his lips to take a drink.

“I still love you..”

Jake rolls his eyes and lowers the glass, staring at it as he runs his index ring over the top of it. “I’m starting to think you don’t know what love is.” He says, trying to remain calm, but the anger courses through his body and suddenly he’s throwing the glass in her direction. Much to his surprise, she dodges it and the glass collides with the wall, breaking into many small pieces. “I gave you everything!” He shouts. “Not once have you ever given me anything in return!”

“I agreed to marry you!”

“Oh fuck off!” He spats. “You make it sound as if I had forced your hand. You had a choice, May! You could have said no and we wouldn't be here.”

“But I loved you when I said yes, I thought I saw a future with you.”

Jake scoffs once more, rolling his eyes again. “What changed then? Did I not pleasure you well enough?”

“That is not the reason.”

“No?” He nods his head in a sarcastic manner. “So then tell me who that man was you would sneak in here while I was away..” May’s face drains of color and he dryly laughs. “You thought I wouldn't know you had been having an affair? The reason you didn't want to be “tied down”? You love me… Ha!” He shakes his head and starts to walk in her direction. He stops just a few inches from her and leans down to speak in her ear. “I hope he’s worth it because as soon I walk out that door, you get nothing more from me. No more of my money and certainly no more of my body. Do not come crawling back to me when his dick doesn't satisfy you anymore.”

Walking away from her, he grabs his belongings he packed up prior to the signing and leaves the house without one single look back. Though he hid his true feelings behind a wall of crood words and hatred, his heart was breaking from within. The woman he had loved for several years–the one he proclaimed his love for in front of a church full of their cherished loved ones–had the guts to stab him in the back by betraying the vows they had promised one another. Sleeping with another man and she was the shocked one? She should have known that he would have found out sooner or later.

He was grateful for the divorce in a way. He no longer had to hide in the shadows, watching as this man fucked his wife in their bed, a bed they had made love to each other for years. A bed that was stained with their love–or whatever they had then. Now it didn't feel as if it were love. Now it just felt as if he was used. His money, his body. He gave her everything and yet she betrayed him and gave her body to someone else.

For weeks all he could hear in his head were her moans penetrating the walls that first night he caught them together. They must not have heard him arrive back home because he could hear them from the front door. He had to fight back the urge to storm into that bedroom and fight the man who had the nerve to sleep with a married woman–his wife. But then the puzzle pieces fell into place–one by one–as he pieced together the truth. A truth she had been hiding from him. The decency she thought she had to lie to his face, claiming to have missed him while he was away.

He thought it would end if he could prove to her that he was the better man–her husband. So every night since he came home from a six month long tour, he would fuck her however she wanted him to and wherever. Anything to prove that he was still worthy of her and to prove that she didn't need to find pleasure from someone else’s body.

Until he came to the realization that no matter how often he fucked her or how he did it, he would never replace the man that she really desired. The diamond ring on her finger didn't stop her from tainting their marriage.

Instead of the love he had once felt for her is now the hatred that had been burning in the pit of his stomach for months.

As he drove, his mind wandered to someone else. Someone that he hasn't seen in years since she went away for a job opportunity in Seattle. Though she was back in Nashville, he still hadn't seen her, having been so focused on the band and trying to save his marriage. But he still remembered the way to her home, the same home she kept even after she moved, knowing she would one day come back.

If he were to show up to her house, would she want to see him? Would she let him in? The way things ended between them wasn't as drastic as his failed marriage has ended now, but they also didn't end on good terms either.

The one fight.

Words spewed at each other that neither of them meant but still cut them both so deeply.

He had begged her to stay, that he could provide for both of them and she wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore. But it wasn't worry that she felt. It was desire. She craved freedom in the moment, not wanting to be tied down just yet.

Sensing a theme yet?

Of course she loved him, she had never loved someone quite like she loved Jake. She had dreams and plans of marrying him someday but it just wasn't the right time. Though she had dreams of marrying him, she also had dreams of building this career for herself and having something that was hers. At the time, he didn't quite understand that. He didn't understand that she was an independent woman, not wanting to rely on someone else to take care of her.

They broke up the night before she was to leave for Seattle and they hadn't spoken since. He didn't see her off at the airport, he never called or sent texts, nor did she either. They both aimed to forget about each other, thinking it would numb the pain. In time it did, he fell in love with someone new and so did she–for a little while. It didn't last because she knew her heart still belonged to Jake.

Pressing his finger into the doorbell, the sound of it echoes inside and he takes a step back. He left his things in his car, unsure of how this might play out for him. A few minutes ticked by and he was going to reach for the doorbell again when the door opened. In front of him and still looking as beautiful as he last saw her, stood his first ever true love. Though they were mid-thirties, not quite at the stage where they should be growing gray hair, he could see a few strands lining her forehead. Her eyes still held the same sparkle he used to see before, only now they were shielded by a thin pane of glass.

Anna.

“Jake?” Her voice shakes slightly as she stares at him in surprise. Her face had slowly grown pale as if she had seen a ghost.

He nods his head, unable to form words to speak. Seeing her after all the years, his breath was somehow still taken from his body. He felt the urge to pull her into his arms, to hold her once more, but he fought against it, knowing it wouldn't be wise to do such a thing.

“What are you doing here?” She asks.

“I got divorced..” He finally manages to say.

Instantly, she’s pulling him inside the house and shutting the door. Lifting her glasses, she rests them on the top of her head. “Divorce? Has it even been that long?”

He shakes his head. “I saw it coming, despite how hard I tried to keep it at bay.”

She leads him further into the home and into the kitchen. Passing through the hall, he notices the pictures on the walls have remained the same. He stopped walking when he saw a framed photo of the two of them. He remembers exactly where they were when that photo was captured.

“Jake, I don’t know about this..” She says as he helps her up to the top of the tower. “You know I don’t do well with heights.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Jake says as he slowly walks her over to the ledge. “Just don’t look down.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Look at the view,” He says. “Imagine living in a castle as grand as this used to be with this perfect view of the ocean.”

“I think I’d rather stay closer to the ground.”

Jake chuckles, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her cheek. “Let’s stay just like this forever..”

“Want anything to drink?” Looking away from the picture, he turns towards the kitchen. She’s standing by the fridge, holding the door open. “I have milk, orange juice, and tequila in the freezer.”

“I probably shouldn't drink..” He says as he walks into the kitchen.

“What did you do?” She asks, already knowing something had occurred before he left his house.

“I may have thrown a glass…at May..” He mumbles as he slides onto a bar stool, keeping his eyes anywhere but hers.

“Jacob…” She sighs.

“I know, I know.. I let my anger get out of control..” He says, before burying his head in his hands. “How did my life get so bad? I thought we were happy.. I gave her everything I had… She took most of my money too in the agreement…”

“Do you need help?” She asks.

Jake nods his head. “No… I still have plenty.. The bands are still making money plus all of the side projects I have going on. I’m steady for now and I’ll be getting more once the house sells.”

“You’re selling the house?”

Jake nods his head and takes the glass of water that she slid across the countertop to him. “Also a part of the agreement.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t want to sell it, but I have no choice..” He says. “That place holds a lot of memories..” He glances up at her and she looks away. “But that’s all it is.. A house full of memories.. There’s nothing for me to hold onto anymore.”

“I always wondered what you did with it when I left..” She says. “Is that hole still in the wall in your office where your guitar fell?”

Jake scoffs, nodding his head. “I still haven't gotten it fixed.”

“The wall or the guitar?”

“The wall..of course,” He smiles. “Probably should get it fixed before the house goes on the market.”

“Isn’t she still going to be there?”

“I hear the tone of disdain,” Jake smirks. “And you don't even know why we’re divorcing.”

“Judging by the state you’re in, she’s the reason for it.” Anna says as she leans against the countertop. “What’d she do? Spill the tea.”

Jake chuckles and takes a drink of water. “May was having an affair.. Was going on for months while I was away. Caught them when I came home. I didn’t know what to do so I left.”

“But you really wanted to do something else, didn’t you?”

Jake nods his head. He takes another drink before continuing. “I wanted to storm up there and beat the shit out of him. She was married–she was my wife. He had to have known all of that. The pictures on the walls and our dresser should have been a clear indication but I just knew he ignored it all.”

“But instead you left..”

“Yeah.. Ended up crashing on Danny’s couch until I was sure they weren’t fucking anymore..”

“Did Danny ever question you?”

Jake shakes his head, folding his hands together in front of him. “I know he had his suspicions but he never pushed to ask me about it.”

“Then what happened?”

“I went home the next morning–pretended that my flight had been delayed and my phone was dead so I couldn't call to let her know.. She lied so well, I truly think she started to believe herself–but I knew the truth, I knew everything.”

“And Josh doesn't know about this?”

“No… I haven't said a thing about this to him. I kept pretending to everyone that our marriage was good–that we were good. I didn’t want to be a disappointment to the family..”

“You’re not a disappointment,” Anna says, shaking her head. “You tried to make your marriage work, but there's only so much you could do.”

“He’ll only say ‘I told you so’.. He never liked May from the start and he made damn sure that I knew that. He didn't even come to the wedding.” He could see Anna’s jaw drop ever so slightly, shocked that Josh would pull something like that. “Yeah… He was supposed to be my best man but never showed up so Sam stepped in at the last minute. We haven't spoken since…”

“Wait..” Anna says, waving her hands in the air in front of her. “You haven't spoken since the wedding? That was what…”

“Over a year ago..” Jake mutters.

“Wow.. I’ve never known you two to go more than maybe a week without talking to each other and that’s even when you’re just busy..”

Jake shrugs his shoulders and takes another drink of his water. “The band’s on a hiatus to give everyone a break for a little while.. Haven't really had the need to talk to each other..”

“Jake, I’m sorry…”

“I’m not..” He grumbles. “He made his choice.. I’m over it.”

“You don't seem like it,” Anna said as she walked around the island and sat on a stool beside him. “Is that why you came here–because you can’t go to him?”

“I wouldn't have gone to him regardless..” Jake says. “I came here because…” His voice trails off. He honestly didn't know why he came here. She just came to his mind. “I don't know..” He looked at her and for once he felt comfortable with himself. He didn't feel any judgment from her or even pity. He was on neutral ground, no one to scold him, no one telling him ‘I told you so’, and definitely no one making him feel like he isn’t good enough to their husband.

“Well I’m glad you did,” She says with a beaming smile. “I’ve been wondering how you’ve been–though now I guess I do now,” She laughs. “Sorry.. I’m not laughing at you..”

A smile twitches at the corners of Jake’s mouth. “I’ve been wondering about you too,” He says. “We haven't seen or spoken to each other since…”

“We broke up.” She finishes for him.

“Yeah..” He says, looking back at the glass of water sitting in his hand. “Anna, I’m sorry..” He starts. “We ended on not-so-good terms and I apologize.. I know I said some hurtful things–things I didn’t even mean and��”

“Jake, there’s no need to apologize,” Anna says, resting her hand on his shoulder. This wasn't the same feeling as when she pulled him inside the house, but this time he felt her.

“We both said things neither of us meant,” She continued. “Can I be honest?” Jake turns his head back to look at her. “I wish we didn't end at all..”

“What?”

“I should have fought harder but I knew you weren't going to budge.”

“Why didn't you ever call?”

“Because I was too stubborn.. I wanted to prove to you that I could survive without you.”

Jake sighs, allowing his head to drop. “I shouldn't have said that to you. I knew you would, I guess I just wanted you to feel like you couldn't because I was too stubborn myself to let you walk away so easily. I thought if I could manipulate you into believing you couldn't, then you’d stay. I guess now that’s my problem.. I tried to do the same with May.. I tried to make her believe that I was better than the man she was sleeping with..”

“I don't think that would be manipulation on her, Jake.. I think it was more of you trying to believe that you could be better. If you just did all the same things he did, maybe then she’d stay.”

“I could never be like him.. I don't even know why I tried..”

“Because you loved her..”

“Love shouldn't be used as manipulation.”

“No, you’re right.” Anna says, nodding her head. “We do things we shouldn't do because not only can love be a good thing, but it also can be used as a weapon.. And if we misuse it, we end up changing what it’s really meant to be.”

“I’m sorry..” He says. “I abused it and I abused you.”

Anna shakes her head. “None of that.. I’ve moved past it.” She then slides off the stool and places her hands on her hips. “Since you’re here, think you can help me with something?”

Jake furrows his eyebrows but follows her anyways to the second floor. She stops in front of a door and turns around to face him. “I haven't touched this room since we broke up and I left for Seattle.”

“Okay?”

Anna twists the knob and pushes the door open. His eyebrows perk up when he sees most of his things still in the same places they had been before. One of his guitars was lying on the couch, old song sheets he had been filling up were still sprawled out on the coffee table. Though the candles were long since burnt out, they still sat in the same spots around the room. This room has remained the same for the last several years and though they never lived together, he spent a lot of time here with her, especially in this room.

“You haven't touched any of this?” He asks as he steps into the room.

Anna shakes her head. “No.. Could never bring myself to.” She says. “It held a lot of good memories in here, I was too broken at the time to part with any of it.”

“I’m surprised you never gave me this back,” Jake says as he picks up the guitar from the couch. “Probably needs some tuning,” He says, sitting down on the couch and strumming chords. They sounded completely out of tune and he chuckled. “Definitely needs a tune up.”

Anna smiles and leans against the door. “Are any of those songs still good?” She asks, nodding her head towards the music sheets.

Jake leans over to the coffee table and picks up one of the sheets. “It’s possible,” He says. “I’m sure I could find a place for them.”

The doorbell rings and Jake lowers the paper. “Sorry,” Anna sheepishly grins. “I did order food before you showed up.”

“And I am intruding,” Jake says, standing up from the couch and setting the guitar down.

“No, no!” Anna says as they leave the room. “Definitely not intruding.” She goes to the door to get food, thanking the delivery person, and bringing it to the kitchen. “I may have ordered enough food for at least two people,” She giggles. “I’m starving. So please stay if you’re hungry.”

“I don’t think I-”

“I want you to,” Anna says. “Come on, eat some food and hang out. Get your mind off of things for a little while.”

“You actually want me to stay?”

Anna nods her head and begins to pull the food boxes out of the bags. “I’ve missed having you around.” Jake can’t fight the smile that forms on his face.

To him it felt like an hour had passed, but when he glances at the clock on the wall in the living room, he sees that it’s been at least four since he had come here. All of the talking while they ate just made it seem like it hadn’t been that long. “Have to head out?”

“I don’t know, should I?” He says, looking at her with a bit of a coy look in his eyes.

Anna smiles before pushing herself up off the floor. “Stay a little longer.” She says. “Like I said.. I’ve missed you.” She starts to pick up the empty food containers and puts them back into the paper bags.

The music playing through the speaker changes as Anna is leaving the living room. Jake sits up and listens to it as it plays the beginning notes. Without a single thought or the urge to resist, Jake springs off the floor and heads into the kitchen where he finds Anna tossing the trash into the can beside the island.

“Remember when we used to dance to this song?” He asks.

“Yeah.. I remember.” She says. “Except you’d be wearing a little less clothing.”

Jake chuckles, reaching his arms around her waist. “I’ll stop if you tell me to.” He says, pulling her closer. Her hands press against his chest, and he expects her to push him away but instead she slides her hands to his shoulders. “I didn’t know that I’d miss this, but I guess I do.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me that you and May never danced like this?”

Jake shakes his head. “Never.. Always said it was too mushy for her.”

“I’m convinced she isn’t real.”

“Oh she was plenty real,” Jake says. “Just not the romantic type, I guess. We only danced once and that was at the wedding.”

“I am shocked,” Anna giggles. “And you married her because..”

Jake chuckles and spins them both slowly. “I thought I loved her.. I thought she loved me too..”

Soon the song ends and moves on to a lighter, more upbeat song, but they still stand there looking at each other. Jake clears his throat and they both pull away. “Ahem.. Well, I should probably get going,” He says. “I took up enough of your day.”

“Just so you can go stay in a hotel room?” Anna says as she grabs his jacket.

“Anna, give me my jacket.” Anna shakes her head and backs away. “Anna, I’m being serious. Give me it.”

“You are not going anywhere.” She says as she keeps backing away.

“Are you going to hold me hostage?”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

She got him there. It honestly wouldn't be bad to be held captive by his ex-girlfriend. Someone he truly did love–and still might. Anna winks and takes off running upstairs.

“Not the stairs..” He grumbles as he runs up them as well. Reaching the too of the stairs, he sees her standing outside of her bedroom and shaking his jacket lightly in the air. “Anna, come on. Please give me my jacket.” He says as he walks down the hallway.

“Promise you’ll stay?”

He sighs, stopping in front of her. “I really need to go. Anna, please?”

“Why are you in such a rush to get out of here?” She asks. “Has it really been that bad?”

“Anna..”

“Why’d you even come here then?���

“It’s not like that, I loved being here, but I just got divorced and I can’t just rebound so fast.”

“Rebound?”

Jake mentally smacked his forehead as he sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I am not a rebound, Jake. I don’t want you to stay so I can sleep with you again. I wanted you to stay because it’s a lot better than staying in a crappy hotel. And besides, I’m not the rebound,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “She was..”

Jake’s lips twitch at the corners as he begins to smirk. “Were you jealous of her?”

“Pfft, jealous? Please. At least my body’s real.” Jake’s jaw fell slack in disbelief he ever heard her utter such words. He’s never heard her speak ill of anyone, she always kept it to herself. “What?” Anna shrugs her shoulders. “There were times that I wondered why you ever fell in love with her?”

“You thought about me?”

“Yeah.. But mostly about why you were so stupid to want to be with someone like her.”

“You’re sounding like Josh.”

“Yes well, at least I’m talking to you.”

Jake scoffs and leans against the wall. “I wasted all those years with her, when I could have just been fighting to get you back.” He says.

“So why didn’t you?”

“I figured you still hated me,” He says. “We were so mean to each other at the end, I just thought you wouldn't want to talk to me–or even see me.”

“Instead you got together with May.”

Jake nods his head. “At the time I thought I was doing the right thing–moving on. I saw you had, so why shouldn’t I? I kept telling myself that I was better off without you and I could prove that to you. At first it was just a means to rub it in your face, but then I actually started to fall for her. She was sweet then, so kind to everyone, even my family.”

“Except Josh..”

“Yeah, except him. He never came around if she was with me.. I didn't get why he was, but now I see it. It’s because of her we don’t speak anymore. I don’t think we ever will.”

“Did it end that badly between you two?”

“It was so stupid..”

Now they were seated on the floor in the hallway while the music still played downstairs, the sound slightly muffled through the floor. Anna still had his jacket, keeping it resting on her lap as he talked.

“Karma smacked me right in the face when he gave me an ultimatum.. It was either him–or her. Kind of how I gave you an ultimatum before we broke up.. Me or your career..”

Anna could still remember that day like it was yesterday. They were in his bedroom, screaming at each other, trying to get their own words to be heard over the other. It was a useless fight because they knew what would be happening in the end.

“Jake, I really want to do this. I want to have my own career, make more money so that we can live well.”

“We are living well! My band is making so much revenue and with these side projects and extra jobs I’ve been helping with, I’m making more than enough to take care of us both! I don’t get why you want to start a career!”

“Jake, I want to also be my own person! I’m tired of being only known as ‘Jake’s girlfriend’, I want my own identity back! And this is how I’m going to do it, with or without you!”

“Fine.. The choice is yours then.. It’s either me or your fucking career.”

“You’re making me choose?! I can’t have both?!”

“Me or your career..” He says before walking out of the bedroom.

“I realized it wasn’t fair of me to do that.”

“Ultimately we choose the thing that would ruin the best things in our lives,” Anna says. She shifts her body around so she can sit beside him against the wall. “I chose my career and we broke up. You chose May and now your relationship with Josh is severed… Is that why the band is on a hiatus?”

Jake nods his head. “Josh told our management that the band had “differences that needed to be worked out” so for the time being, the band is on a hiatus until Josh and I fix shit between us. Which is fine.. I have other things to work on..”

“But that band was your dream, Jake. Don’t just give it up because you and Josh are in a tiff.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders. “My dream already came true, Anna. Maybe it’s a sign to just move on. We’ve accomplished a lot already.”

“You never struck me as a quitter,” Anna says.

“People change..” He says as he starts to fidget with the button on his shirt. “I gave up on my marriage.. I gave up on you..”

“Your marriage was no fault of your own.”

“And you?” He inquires, turning his head to look at her.

“I gave up on you first,” She says, lowering her head so she’s looking down at her lap. “I made my choice.”

“All because I made you make one,” He says.

“It’s in the past,” She says. “I’m more mature now.”

“Oh are you?” He chuckles.

Anna nods her head, smiling, and looks back up at him. “I’ve learned that my own happiness comes first above everything else. I’ll fight for what I want and I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Is that why you made me chase you for my coat? You won’t let me leave?”

“You still have a choice, but I’d prefer if you stayed.”

“Why must I stay?”

“Like I said earlier.. I’ve missed you.” She says.

“I’m only going to a hotel. It’s not like I can't come back.”

He can come back. She knows he’ll come back, but she wants him to stay. Stay here with her. She lost him once already, she doesn't want to again. Since he showed up on her porch that afternoon, all she could think about was finally getting her second chance with him. She has to know if this is meant to be, if fate is trying to correct their mistakes, realign their paths.

“Just stay here. Besides, my bed is so much more comfortable.”

“I don’t know.. Hotel beds are pretty comfy.” Anna flings his jacket at him and he laughs. “Thanks for the offer,” He says. He stands to his feet and helps her up as well.

She takes him by surprise, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. She feels his arms wrap around her waist, hugging her back. “I have Egyptian cotton..” She whispers in his ear.

He chuckles, pulling away slightly so he can get a better look at her. “You just won't give up, will you?” Anna shakes her head and he sighs. “Fine.”

A storm raged outside, heavy winds and rain. The rain pounded on the windows as the wind whistled and blew. But what woke Anna from a deep sleep was the loud crack of thunder, loud enough to shake the whole damn house. She jolted awake, sitting upright with her hand coming to rest on her chest. As she takes in deep breaths to calm her body, she feels a hand slide over the top of her thigh and soon Jake is sitting up to her. The feeling of his hand on her leg sent goosebumps flaring on her body.

“Remember the angels bowling?”

“I’m not five,” Anna says as she lays back down in bed.

Jake follows and turns over to face her. Even in the dark he can still see how beautiful she is. Whenever the lightning flashes, though she cringes with every strike, it first lights up her eyes showing the immense beauty of them. Those radiant brown eyes that always seemed to bring him comfort whenever he looked into them. He never compared his exes to each other but he began to realize that he never felt the same way when looking into May’s eyes. Sure they were a beautiful shade of blue, but they only reminded him of the ocean, raging and chaotic. Though that was May’s nature.

With Anna, she was always calm, unless prompted otherwise. He always knew the moment her eyes grew a shade darker that she was not happy. He quickly learned her boundaries and knew what made her tick and what made her explode. He knew what annoyed her and what pissed her off. He knew her like the back of his hand.

“You’re staring at me..” She says, drawing him out of his head.

“Sorry..” He mutters, turning back over to lay on his back.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever thought about what our lives would have been like if we didn't break up?”

“I think we would have been miserable,” He says. “If you had chosen me over your career, I think it would have been rough. You’d resent me and I wouldn't have blamed you.”

“Would you have still loved me?”

“I don't think I could ever stop,” He says. “I don't think I ever did.. Would you have still loved me?”

“No..”

“Oh..”

“Let me explain why,” She says. “It wouldn't have been the love that I felt for you romantically, I would have felt it like I do with any other person that I love. I would have resented you truthfully, I was beginning to feel that way when you made me choose between you and my career. I couldn't understand why it was “either or” instead of “both”. I hated you for making me choose because either choice I made, I would lose something that’s important to me. When I chose my career, I lost you.”

“I’m here now..”

“Jake..”

“Just hear me out..” He says. “And don’t deny that you thought the same thing.. I think this was meant to happen,” He turns back over to face her again and grabs hold of her hand. “We needed to grow apart in order to grow separately. Whatever fucking lesson the universe was trying to teach me, I think I learned it. Anna, I still love you and being with you today? I just felt like I was back where I belonged. I felt like I was home. Dancing with you in the kitchen, I missed that terribly. I missed being close to you and I missed touching you, loving you, making love to you. I wanted to kiss you so badly at that moment but I had a feeling it wasn't the right time. And I know you feel the same because I could see it when you look at me.”

“All you had to say was that you missed me too.” Anna says, turning her head to look at me. “I’ve been telling you that this whole time.”

Jake moves a little closer and turns her head, caressing her cheek in his palm. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”

Anna slightly shakes her head, “I wished you would have kissed me when we were dancing,” She says. “Just like we used to.”

When their lips touched, it felt as if they were brought back to the beginning. The initial sensation one feels for the first time when they know they’ve fallen in love.

Jake’s hand moves from her face and down to her hips, pulling her closer to his body as their kissing deepens and grows more heated. Even as their lungs burned and begged for air, they refused to pull apart. That is until Jake really couldn't breathe and reluctantly gave in. His chest heaved as his heart pounded beneath his ribcage. He hadn't realized her hand was on the side of his face until she rubbed her thumb over his cheek bone.

“You said you missed making love,” She says. “No one could ever love me like you did.”

“Are you asking or just talking?”

“I’m asking,” She says. “Please?”

“You know I would never deny you,” He says, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of her pajama pants, first squeezing her hand, making her giggle.

Jake wakes up to an empty bed beside him, the sun filtering in through the half open curtains. Downstairs he can hear a couple voices, one of which is Anna’s. Changing back into his clothes, he quietly slips out of the room and heads to the top of the stairs. He knows he shouldn't be eavesdropping, an invasion of privacy.

“You never met her..” He hears Josh’s voice.

Josh? He’s here?

“Sounds like I didn't need to,” Anna giggles. “But come on.. He’s your brother.”

“And? He made no effort to fix things.”

“How could he?” Anna says. She hands the warm tea to Josh and sits beside him on the couch. “You have to let him speak to you… I know you miss him..”

Josh looks down at the tea in his hands. “Yeah.. I do,” He says. “But he has to have understood why I did what I did.”

“I think he does..”

“Sucks that a divorce was what made him realize it..” Josh grows quiet again and takes a drink of his tea. “Is he here?”

Anna nods her head. “He’s asleep upstairs,” She says.

“How did he end up here anyways?”

Anna shrugs her shoulders. “I don't know, but I’m glad he did.”

“Second chance?”

“Can that happen?”

Josh takes another drink of his tea before turning his body on the couch to face Anna. “I think so,” He says. “And I’m not just saying that because I think you’re better for him. I say that because somehow he came to you when he could have just gone back to sleeping on Danny’s couch.”

“You knew?” He knew?

“Danny texted me asking if I knew what was going on. Obviously I didn’t know what was going on. I still don’t. I mean.. I know he’s divorced.. I saw May’s post online, flaunting herself all on some guy.”

Leaving the stairs, Jake goes back to the room and grabs his phone off of the nightstand. Sure enough, the top photo on her profile was of her locking lips with the same guy she was having an affair with. Without a doubt the whole world already knows about the divorce that was only just made “official” last night. It hasn’t even been finalized with the lawyers and she’s already flaunting her “new” relationship on the internet.

Not wanting to see her again..ever..he blocked her on everything and tossed his phone onto the bed.

“I told you he was awake!” He hears Josh shout. Looking up he sees his brother standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Twin telepathy, she still doesn't believe me.” He says as he enters the room.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” Jake says.

“I originally went to your house when I heard about the divorce.”

Jake scoffs. “It’s all over the internet..”

“That too,” He says. “Mom called as well.”

“Fantastic..” Jake grumbles.

“What prompted this to happen anyways?”

“Turns out I’m not who she wanted to be with..” He says. “So you were right, go ahead and gloat.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Josh says. “Despite how much I want to. I know you loved her.”

“I did.. Until I found out she was having an affair.” Jake goes to sit back down on the bed. “I caught her when I got back home from a work trip.. She didn't know I was back so I left and stayed with Danny.”

“That explains it,” Josh says as he sits beside Jake. “Mom’s worried. You might want to call her.”

Jake shakes her head. “I don't want to talk to anyone…”

“Why? The divorce wasn't your fault, it wasn’t even your choice.”

“Doesn't matter Josh, I’m a failure.”

“You are not a fail-”

“Yes, I am!” Jake exclaims as he stands up from the bed. “Apparently sex with me isn't great and I’m not a good enough husband.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?” He says, turning back to face Josh. “Okay so then you get married, be cheated on again and again and later divorced because the person you chose to spend the rest of your life with doesn't feel the same. She wants sex, Josh, sex that apparently I can’t give her.” His eyes begin to fill with tears. “I loved her, Josh, and she broke me..” Josh pulls him in for a hug, holding him close as he starts to cry.

Anna stands outside of the bedroom, leaning against the wall as she listens to their conversation. Hearing Jake cry, believing he wasn’t good enough in his marriage, her heart breaks even more knowing just how deeply he was wounded when he never uttered the words to her.

“You are the perfect husband for someone, I’m sure of it.” Josh says as he pulls away from Jake. “As for the sex? I can’t speak on that.”

“Fuck off..” Jake grumbles as he playfully shoves Josh.

“Oh Anna!” Josh sings out.

“Josh, knock it off.”

Anna steps into the room and walks over to the two of them. “I know you two slept together, so remind him if he’s good or not.”

Jake turns to face Anna, his brows furrowing. “Did you tell him?”

“What? No.”

“Wait.. Stop.. You two.. Last night?” Anna and Jake both glance at each other making Josh’s jaw fall open. “I was talking about back when you two were a thing but last night?”

“It..just happened..” Jake says, scratching the back of his head. “We got to talking to each other and then–why am I even explaining this to you? Do you not approve of that either? I just got divorced, what business do I have sleeping with my ex-girlfriend?”

Sleeping with his ex-girlfriend? Sleeping?

“I’ll let you two figure that out,” Anna says. “I’m going to go get started on lunch..”

As she dumped pasta into a pot of boiling water on the stove, she felt Jake’s hands slide around her waist. “I didn’t mean to say it like that,” He says. “I loved every second of making love with you.”

“It’s fine..” She says as she sets the empty box to the counter beside the stove.

“You don’t sound fine,” He says.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say, Jake,” She says as she turns around to face him. “What is this?” She asks, motioning her finger between the both of them. “You’re right, you just got divorced and now you’re here with me. What is any of this supposed to mean?”

“What if this is our second chance?” He says. “This old flame that used to burn between us, what if we have this chance to reignite it?”

“Do you really want to jump right back into this?” She asks.

“If it means that I get to love you again? Yes. I realized last night while we were together that this is my home–you are my home.”

“This is insane, Jake, don’t you think so?”

“Love makes people do crazy things,” He says. “I showed up here, I don’t know why. Then suddenly we’re having sex in the same bed and it just feels right.”

“Where’s Josh?” She asks.

“He left, why?”

“Good,” She says smiling. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him close and presses her lips against his. “May is missing out on a very great man,” She says when they pull apart.

“No..” He says, lowering his head.

“Yes,” She lifts his chin, noticing the tears beginning to fill his eyes. “Hey, you have always been a great man.”

“How could I be? I was such a jerk when we broke up.”

“Yes, true. But before then, you were so loving and attentive. You loved me immensely in all aspects. You were my greatest love.. And who knows, maybe you can be again.”

“Maybe we’ll find out after lunch,” He says. “Before we burn this place down,” He reaches behind her and turns the burner down, allowing the boiling water and pasta to simmer down.

Lunch went by quickly and soon they found themselves right back where they started this morning. Clothes were shredded and discarded in various areas on the bedroom floor. That old flame that was extinguished years ago was finally getting its chance to burn big and bright. Being wrapped up in him for the second time wasn’t the same as it used to be but it still felt right, newer. Both of them are older and mature, both moved on from the past. Not a thought looms over them of his divorce or their past they shared together. All that mattered in the moment was the present as well as the future that dangled above their heads instead.

This time making love to her, he took in more details than he did the prior. She didn’t bear the small hips of her youth, they were slightly wider. Her breasts looked bigger, noting how his hands just barely covered them completely. She was filled in all of the aspects of her body and he found himself falling in love with all of it all over again. His fingers lightly traced the few gray hairs that littered her dark hair. Though she shied away, he would draw her back, reminding her that she still looked as beautiful as she ever did.

“The gray simply comes with the territory of growing older,” He says. “It’s an older beauty that must be cherished just as much as the youthful beauty we still long to have. It means we have lived, continuing to live, growing older with each second and minute that passes us by. Beauty follows us in every stage.”

“You have got to stop reading Jane Austrn,” Anna teases.

Jake chuckles, “It doesn’t come from Jane Austen,” He says. “It comes from Jacob Kiszka.” Anna giggles and lightly swats at his cheek.

“Do you have any gray hairs, Jacob Kiszka?”

“Not one.”

“Liar..” Anna brings her hands up to his hair and begins picking through it. “You do!” She exclaims. “Such an old man..”

“Old?” He fanes offense and rolls his eyes. “So then if I’m old, then that means you’re old too.”

“Never call me old again,” She says, pointing a stern finger at him. “I am not old, I am thirty-five.”

“Almost forty.”

“Jacob, you better shut your mouth.”

“Or what?” He says, raising his eyebrows as he smirks. Rolling over, he hovers above her, flicking his hair off to the side and out from the front of his hair. “Face it, Anna. We’ll be turning forty before we know it.”

Anna groans, “Don’t remind me. My body is already showing signs of middle age.”

Jake laughs and leans down to kiss her. “You and I both. My ass is starting to sag, I think.”

“Oh shut up,” Anna laughs.

Jake laughs again, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He begins to kiss down her neck, instinctively grinding against her center. “Let us grow old together,” He says. “Our asses sagging as our hair grows grayer, making love to each other as often we want. Who knows, maybe a kid or two..”

“I always wondered if you’d have any children by now,” Anna says. “Or at least one.”

“I wanted at least one by now, but she wasn’t ready.” He says. “And if I’m being honest, I only ever dreamt of having children with you. They’d have your beautiful smile, maybe even your eyes.”

“As long as they have your nose,” Anna says as she traces her finger over the bridge of his nose. “But we have to work on ourselves first before we start jumping into becoming parents. We only just reunited, I do not want to rush the time that I have with you–with us.”

“You will always have me–even if we did have little feet running through the house.” He says. “Nothing and no one can keep me from you, not this time.” Slowly he pushes inside of her, feeding on the soft moan that spilled from her mouth. “Let me relight this flame and keep it burning.”

“No more ultimatums?”

Jake shakes his head and thrusts his hips again, pushing deeper inside of her. “No more,” He says. “You will have me—all of me–wherever this new journey takes us, even if I am the one who follows you this time. I do not want to waste seven years of my life again being an idiot. I do not want to let someone use me and not love me for me.”

“I will always love you for you,” Anna says, holding his face in her hands. “I always have.”

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @i-love-gvf @katuschka @josh-iamyour-mama @sammysstolenbirks @asendingtothestarsasone @hollyco @musicislove3389 @its-interesting-van-kleep @katiegvf @tinydancer40 @gretavangroupie @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @takenbythemadness @godly-sinsx @psychedelectable @dancingcarbon @cheersdannyx2 @piratejtk @katuschka @musicislove3389 @takenbythemadness @wildbluesorbit

[quxyivs]

heyy i was wondering if i can request a angst fic for chan so its like you go to visit him and there is another female idol or something in the studio then its like he almost forgets the reader yk? then she tries to join in into the convo he ends up acting like he doesnt want her in it the rest is up to you bae 🩷💋

OMG?? THIS IS ACTUALLY SUCH A GOOD IDEA!??? Also tysm for the req!! 🫶🏾

Forgotten

Trigger warning ⚠️!! - Accusations of cheating, Cursing, throwing shit, blood!! (lmk if i forgot anything)

Bang Chan x Fem Reader

P.s- the fem idol will be called Jio 🫶🏾 (i didn’t do a spell check so if there is bad grammar i’m sorry😭)

-story below the cut<3

You woke up slowly from you and chans shared bedroom in your shared apartment expecting to see your loving boyfriend but instead it’s just an empty bed. You sit up and rub your eyes and get ready for the day before stumbling across a note on the kitchen counter beside some Pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries on top with some fresh fruit on the side too.

“Morning baby!! I had to leave early to start practicing for our new comeback. I made some breakfast for you just before I left!! See you when I get home!! -Love channie” As you read the note you felt your heart warm and flutter as you dig into the food that he cooked. After you get finished you clean the house and just relax for a bit before deciding to visit your boyfriend to check up on him, i mean cmon. we all know chan has a habit of overworking himself and forgetting to eat. You began cook chans favorite meal before getting in the car to go see chan. You call him to tell him but he doesn’t answer the phone and you think “it’s cause he’s busy!!”

You arrive at the JYPE building and walk in greeting the front office lady and then making your way to chan. You enter the practice room and wave at the other members. “Hey guys!!” you say as you hold the bag of food in you hand. “Hey y/nnie!!” Felix says as he jogs over to you giving you his normal big smile and hugging you. “Have you seen chan lixie?” You ask pulling back a bit from the hug. “Ah he’s in the studio, you know him..” Felix said shaking his head in disappointment jokingly. “Of course. See you guys!!” You and Felix finally let go and you walk into his studio to see another female in the studio. He looked close to her, giggling with her and smiling at her with a bubbly look on his face.

“Hey channie!! I bought you lunch!” You said but he just..ignores you? You assumed he didn’t hear you so you clear your throat to speak up but he cuts you off. “Just sit it down.” He said almost sounding pissed off..? You sat the food down then stood there listening to them talk about some guy at a cafe..? Did her and chan go out? Was he cheating?? “Hey what are you guys talking about?” You said but again, you were ignored. “Is it like..some secret I can’t know about..-?” But again to no avail you were ignored. After a couple of more attempts you just get up and storm out slamming the door on your way out. As you walk through the practice room everyone is looking at you and Changbin stops you from leaving.

“Woah what’s wrong? what happened?” He said genuinely worried about you seeing how your fist were balled up. “Nothing. Tell chan when he comes home his shit will be outside and he can go be with his new girlfriend!” You snap as you push changbin aside and storm off leaving everyone confused as they look at each other. After a few hours the girl leaves and chan comes out the studio room waving the girl bye and walking her out.

When he turned back around everyone looked at him disappointed. “What? Why are you all looking a-“ “you’re a fucking dick dude.” Lee know was quick to cut him off leaving chan caught off guard. “Excuse me-?” He said genuinely confused. “You dumped y/n to get jio? really? that’s fucked up hyung.” Changbin said crossing his arms in disbelief. “What!? i’m not dumping y/n!? What are you talking about!?” Chan said frantically and confused a sudden bad feeling rising in his stomach. “She left the studio talking about how your shit is gonna be outside and for you to go live with your new girlfriend..” Jeongin said and Chans heart immediately dropped as he grabbed all his stuff and ran out the building getting in his car and driving home as quickly as possible.

He got to the front door and used his key to get inside. Once his key finally worked he ran inside and when he came in he saw broken glass on the floor and blood splatters. His heart dropped to basically the pits of hell. “Y/N!? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU!??” He ran up the stairs to find you in the bathroom wrapping your hand. “Baby-!! What hap-“ “Get the fuck out cheater.” His eyes widened. “What do you mean I didn’t-“ You grabbed the wraps to throw at him which he caught. “Yes you did-!! I saw you talking to her, talking about some guy from a cafe, and then you ignored me like I wasnt even in the room!! multiple times!! fuck you!!” You spat with anger as your eyes weld up with tears.

Chan finally realized how bad all of that must’ve looked in your eyes. “Babe please. Let me explain-“ “Then explain asshole!! i’m waiting!” He took a deep breath coming in closer to you. “Yes we did go to a cafe, but not as a date. I was there to help her with her date. So if things went bad I could just take her home. I’m sorry I ignored you I just got so caught up in the conversation-.. i’m so sorry baby please don’t kick me out- please I love you and only you okay..?” His left hand raised to your cheek wiping the tears off your cheeks. “I would never cheat baby.. I love you..” He said softly his own eyes filling with small tears. You look up at him before hugging him softly. “Never ever ignore me like that again..” You say as you cry softly into his chest. “I promise love..”

I loved writing this!! Thank you Anon for the req!! 🫶🏾🫶🏾

[bibleofficial]

i dream of being able to go get a couples massage but instead of w the love of my life it’s w my colon & she finally gets what the FUCK has been WRONG w her WORKED out 😭🙄

[starlit-roses-ships]

i just want my f/os to wrap me up and give me a hug and tell me everything's gonna be okay. is that so much to ask ;_;

[feelgoodinct]

nsfw, mdni.

simon becomes an absolute dog when he sees you in his shirt.

cw: possessive simon, sex on carpet (ouch), unprotected p in v, creampie, size kink (?).

simon is a good roommate. he’s organized, clean, pays rent on time, and minds his own space. the only thing is—roommate is hot. stupidly hot. you know he doesn’t have a girlfriend and he’s never once brought back a girl let alone mentioned one. you figured your little crush on him would pass like all the other (it does not). you start dropping hints that you find him attractive. like wearing your tightest tops, brushing your ass against him while reaching for a cup, even leaving one of your lacy thongs to mix in with his laundry. he never bites the bait. you start to think that maybe he just doesn’t find you attractive or even worse he finds you creepy. so you tuck your schoolgirl crush away into the cavity of your chest.

you close the washer with your hip, cradling your laundry basket back to your room. you hear the familiar turn of your front door lock letting you know simon is home from his morning gym session.

you pad into the living room to ask simon if he needed any clothes washed. simons back is turned from you when he begins to slip off his trainers, dropping his gym at the foot of the door.

“need any clothes washed? i’m starting a load up right now.” you ask eyeing the movement of back muscle underneath his compression shirt.

he finally turns to you and starts to respond “nah don’t think-“ before he snaps his mouth shut when he sees what you’re wearing. “that mine?” his voice gruff, it’s his army issued shirt that is long enough to cover your shorts. a deep green color that frays at the hem and has his last name in bold at the back of it. you notice he’s staring at the worn fabric waiting for an answer.

you look down, “oh yeah. sorry was doing laundry found this in hamper. my clothes are in the wash. hope that’s okay?” you sound apologetic like you just did something unforgivable. jesus christ what were you thinking wearing his shirt without asking. you shift trying to ease your embarrassment.

he’s on you in three short strides. making a noise between a growl and snarl. you don’t know how or when you both ended up on the living room floor. frankly, it’s the last thing on your fucking mind now that you’re on your knees cheek pressing into the shag carpet. you can feel the heat of his stare between your legs. you get a glimpse of your shorts and panties strewn across the floor leaving you in his shirt. you wait with bated breath for him to touch you. you wiggle your hips in a silent plead to get him to do something, anything…everything.

he gives the flesh of your ass a heavy smack that has you clenching around nothing. “be good now.” is all you hear before the sting leaves an angry red mark that you know is gonna leave you wincing for the next week. simon smooths a hand over the back of your (his) shirt making a noise in the back of his throat.

you hear shuffling behind you before you feel the head of him catch on to your opening making your mouth gape like a fish out of water. he groans at the contact, kneading the fat of your hips, before he presses in painfully slow with a hiss. you whimper into the carpet, fists balling, feeling hot all over. your cunt pulses trying to make room for him inside your womb.

“i know. i know, pretty girl. almost there.” simon bites back a hiss when you clench at his words. you think you might die like this. laid out on ugly apartment carpet trying to take simon’s cock. you could cry with relief when you feel simon’s balls meet your clit letting you know he’s all the way in. simon lets out a guttural sound bordering on animalistic at the sight of you speared open on his cock, last name across your back, absolutely crying for it.

he fists the bottom of the shirt to keep you still and eases his hips back just to sink back in slowly. the pressure in your navel hurts so good it’s starting to make you dizzy. simon sets a pace that has you trying to cant your hips back to meet his thrusts. he lays a heavy palm in the middle of your back, just under the boldened ‘RILEY’, keeping you pinned giving you no choice but to take what he gives you.

“prettiest fuckin girl i ever seen. gonna give this cunt the proper treatment she deserves, yeah?” he bends his left leg, somehow sliding in deeper. there’s no doubt that you can feel him in your lungs. “s’deep simon.” you slur, reaching a hand back to weakly press against his stomach. he chuckles at the act taking both wrists into one of his hands pressing them at the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch. you sob at the change in angle. your nipples being rubbed raw by the friction of his thrusts.

“needed this real bad, huh? don’t worry baby. i’ll make sure you don’t go without it again. wearing those tiny tops think i didn’t notice.” his voice rough and deep behind you. “uh huh.” you reply without a second thought, you don’t even care that you’ve been drooling into the carpet or that you’ve been caught. simon gives a deep chuckle at how pliant you’ve become just from some good dick.

he knows your close by the increasing volume of your sounds. he never lets up his pace determined to give you his all. “where?” he asks in a quick breathe. you take a few seconds to register his words. “huh?” you manage to squeak out. “where do you want me, pretty thing?” he says in an almost pained voice. the gears turn in your head before you speak up “inside. want it inside. m’clean. pill.” resorting to short clipped words. you beg, as if you have to, simon thinks.

your orgasm comes hard and fast leaving you sobbing out garbled version of please and simon. simon is not far behind burying himself as deep as your bodies will allow and comes inside with a pinched “oh fuck.” he pulls out with a pop and watches his spend leak down your slit leaving a small puddle on the floor that he knows he’ll have to scrub out later.

simon pats your backside affectionately. “don’t think we’ll be doing any laundry today” he says with a grin that makes you giggle. “yeah, don’t think so.”

[lexcys]

★ observing rafe cameron x reader

summary: you were trying everything to hide the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at rafe, unbeknownst to you - he was secretly hoping you were

a/n: this is a surfer!rafe x shy!reader btw!! also this is like pretty much my first ever fanfic so I have no idea what the fuck I am doing so sorry if this is literal ass 😭 no mention of a fem!reader besides the fact that the womans bathroom gets entered

you felt the heat of the sun on your skin as you stepped out of the twinkie. the soft crash of the distant waves barely audible over the hum of the pogues voices

stepping onto the beach, a surge of excitement hits you. the day you and the pogues have been counting down to all week has finally arrived

you take one final glance into your bag, double-checking for anything you might have forgotten—sunscreen, snacks, a book, and a few other trinkets, satisfied you make your way over to your usual spot ready to take off your tshirt and shorts which hid your swim wear underneath, until you spotted someone out of the corner of your eye

rafe cameron

somehow the kooks had managed to pick the exact same date, place and time to visit the beach as you and your friends

while the others were hastly running towards the water stripping on the way down, paying no attention to the kooks, kie stayed back waiting for you

she was already in her bikini while your clothes weren’t even close to leaving your body and landing on the ground

''you coming?'' she asked, hand on her forehead shielding her from the burning sun

''umm'', taking a quick glance around you searched the beach in a, hopefully, unsuspicious way trying to locate rafe again

glancing down you turned your gaze elsewhere, you hoped the sudden heat entering your body was from the sun and not from the sight of rafe taking his shirt off

''I’ll join you guys later, I’m a little dizzy right now'', you spoke swiftly looking up at her, hoping to not get caught in the little white lie

all though kie nodded, the flicker of confusion in her eyes and a quick look behind you told you all you needed to know

you had never verbally stated your attraction to the him but you were pretty sure almost anybody could’ve guessed with the way you tensed up or seemed quieter and clumsier whenever he was in close proximity

taking off your top and shorts you shot a look over to the pogues who were already splashing and practically drowning each other. you giggled while settling down onto your beach towel before applying sunscreen and laying down on your stomach with a book in hand

even though your book was very interesting, the sight in front of you was much more enticing

rafe was currently riding a pretty common wave, yet you found yourself unable to stop staring

you adjusted your book hoping to hide the fact that you were practically ogling at the cameron boy

he was far enough out that you couldn’t make out the details but you still caught the way his hair stuck to his face, the way his body twisted with the rythm of the wave and the way he… kept turning his head towards you?

it seemed like he was looking for you, looking to see if you were watching him

cheeks burning, you try to push your delusions aside trying to find the passage you were reading earlier

you take another peek at him and by the the time you do, he was already out of the water, walking towards his friends with the biggest fucking grin, beaming with pride and confidence, already seeming to rave about the wave he just rode

hearing jj’s laugh you swiftly adjust and pretend to be reading your book that was definitely more interesting than staring at rafe’s wet body and stupid grin

while jj kept whining about how john b, supposedly, almost drowned him they both settled down on your left, luckily on the side where the kooks were lounging

fortunately he also kept talking which meant you were able to peep right past his face and steal short glances towards rafe

it was almost impossible for you to keep your eyes off of him. it didn’t matter where you would see him, you were always stealing glances or simply staring at him from a distance. others could call this stalking but you liked to call it observing, you liked watching him, but not in a creepy way, more so you were admiring him, he was pretty

you liked his side profile, the way his bangs framed his face, the way his eyes looked in the sun, the way his shirts hung onto his fit body - you noticed the way he was very articulate with his hands, which were always adorned with the same two rings, the way the corner of his lips turned downwards whenever he tried not to smile

noticing him facing you, eyeing your group, the staring quickly stopped

at this point the distance between the two groups was too small for your liking because of course the kooks had to settle down as closely as possible to the pogues - it was somehow impossible for them to keep their distance

given the short distance, whenever you actually were brave enough to look again it seemed like he was meeting your gaze, trying to maintain eye contact

heart beating way too fast and cheeks burning, you turn away from jj trying to initiate a conversation with sarah, who was sitting on your right

after a while of, luckily, managing to keep your head from spinning towards him, to meet his gaze - aside from the occasional looks to jj or john b whenever they were contributing to the conversation - you were desperate to get up, to empty your bladder

you dreaded getting up, fully aware that the beach bar was situated just behind the kooks, it meant walking past rafe and the mere thought of that unnerved you - every step would make you acutely aware of your surroundings, mind racing, until the very thought of moving felt like it might turn your legs into jelly

examining the scene quickly you notice half of the kooks gone, including rafe, they must’ve left when you weren’t looking - you feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders while also immediately feeling a certain misery overtaking you

this unrequited crush was spiraling out of control

strutting over to the bar you take notice of ruthie with another girl sitting at one of the tables and kelce talking to the bartender seeming to be cracking jokes instead of ordering

walking past them you try to keep your gaze relatively low to avoid any sort of interaction. turning into the small hallway of the bar you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding

the calmness doesn’t last long because as you round the corner to reach the toilets you spot him, standing in front of the mens bathroom, phone in hand and looking quite bored

before you get the chance to look away he lifts his head and notices you, he smiles - you smile back, a very awkward smile

relatively quickly you turn your head away and enter the women’s bathroom. your head becoming a blur, suddenly already washing your hands ready to leave the bathroom

he must’ve left already, right?

''topper are you fucking coming, man?!'', you catch rafe through the door

your plan of immediately leaving and paying him no mind, began to falter two seconds after stepping out of the bathroom

''hey, y/n'', you hear from behind you, shit

you freeze up for a second, caught off guard, before composing yourself and turning around

immediately drawn to him, you couldn’t help but notice the way his hair had dried in quite a messy way, his slightly squinted eyes and the slight smirk splayed across his face

''how are you?'' he questions before you had the chance to greet him back

''I’m doing fine'', you manage to exclaim, nearly tripping over your words before adding the usual ''and you?''

you dig in your mind trying to recall the last time you’d exchanged words beyond the usual "hi" or "hey''

''ditto'',

apparently not completely satisified with your answer, he regards you for a moment, the stare causing a warmth to creep up your neck as you shifted uneasily

''why did your friends leave you all alone over there?'', rafe inquired with a raised brow - a hint of curiosity in his tone, ''they seemed to be enjoying themeselves''

letting out a soft exhale you answer him, attempting to maintain eye contact but faltering almost immediately, ''I wasn’t feeling so good'' was all you manage to muster before adding the word, ''dizzy'' in a rather whispered voice, as you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t see through it

if he did, he didn’t let on ''are you feeling better now?’'

you nod quickly, meeting his gaze

looking up at him with those almost innocent eyes, he can’t help but offer, ''are you sure? I can get you a glass of water'', an unrecognisable sweetness laced his voice, softening his usual edge

taken aback by his unexpected offer you hesitate before denying his offer by simply shaking your head

he let out a quiet snort, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you struggle to give a simple answer

''what book were you reading?'', he asked, his smirk widening as he leaned further back into the wall, clearly amused at the way the conversation was turning into a playful interrogation, as if he found some strange satisfaction in making you squirm just a little bit

you froze, your mind going blank, searching for the title before realising you genuinely couldn’t remember, maybe because you weren’t actually reading the book

like a savior, topper emerged from the bathroom, a flicker of confusion passing across his face as he scanned the scene before moving past you both, muttering a quiet "let’s go," clearly directed at rafe

for a split second, it looked like frustration crossed rafe’s face, fleeting before you could overthink it, flashing you a smile he pushed himself off the wall and made his way past you

but before he completely disappeared out of view, he turned back with a smirk and called over his shoulder,

''hope you enjoyed the show earlier''

oh

[mostly-imagines]

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

[joelsgoldrush]

“never is a promise” | 12.4k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”

“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.

Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.

In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.

But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.

You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail���questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.

Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.

As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.

Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.

Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.

While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.

Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.

Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.

As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.

The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.

The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.

Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.

The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life.

The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.

Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.

The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.

On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.

But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.

All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.

Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—”

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.

Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.

Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.

Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.

You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.

Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.

Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.

“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.

Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.

He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.

“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.

Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.

The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.

“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.

Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.

Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.

You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.

He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.

Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.

“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.

You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.

Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.

You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.

He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.

Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.

You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.

But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.

He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.

You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.

It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”

Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.

His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.

Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”

You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.

Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.

The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.

Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.

You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.

He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.

“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.

You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)