#been living in my head for more than a decade

[cumbunnywitch]

I've seen at least one, but posts saying not to blame the people who didn't vote for Harris because whatever are fully in the wrong and they always will be.

You chose moral high grounding and purity culture over the possibility that our protests would work. You chose "she leaned too right in her campaign" over "Trump and the people who want to puppeteer him are going to get a lot of people killed." You chose the democrats being idiots over the republicans want a racist rapist.

You didn't choose? No, you had a choice. You used yours. If you chose not to vote because you wanted to use your non-vote as a voice to show the democrats that they have to win your vote, you're still going to get your face eaten by the leopards. They aren't going to hear you anyway.

Protests work on the left side of our shit-ass two party system because they at least pretend to care.

Here's just, off the top of my head, the things you decided were less important than telling the democratic party "No you have to be good enough":

Student Loan Forgiveness or Relief

Healthcare

Trans Rights

LGBTQIA Safety

Abortion rights

Palestine/Gaza

Ukraine

Industry Regulation(notice all those recalls on food lately?)

Cost of Living

Police Reform

Taxes

There's no such thing as a single-issue voter, not anymore. The right is diametrically opposed to making any of the above better for anyone, whether or not they voted for that shitstain, unless you're very rich, and very white, and a very straight man.

Honestly, if you voted for Jill Stein, at least you fucking voted. Her numbers won her absolutely nothing but at least you voted.

But no. "Don't vote for Harris because she's not good enough! She's running a campaign to secure moderate republicans!" Yea no fucking shit. That's what they've been doing for the last forever. Yea, it still sucks. But most moderate liberals who actually vote still struggle with that list up there. There's literally a democrat trans woman who just got voted in who wants to support Israel's genocidal campaign of murdering every Palestinian.

And you know what? If she sees that line, she might actually stop and think and move a little bit over to my perspective. Every conservative sees that line and immediately thinks "Yea kill the fuckin' brown people!" because they don't consider them fucking people.

If you didn't vote because you saw people saying Harris wasn't leftist enough, not liberal enough, she was a former prosecutor or the democrats haven't done enough for you in the last 4 years, you fell for the Russian psyop. You fell for the propaganda.

Does it suck that Harris wanted to court the swing states and their moderately conservative voting base over to vote for the first woman president? Yea, it's been a shitty idea for decades and they've been doing it for as long as I've been voting. Obama was the center-ist centerist ever, and he still got healthcare reform passed. He also drone striked a lot of people and gave banks billions of dollars when the financial sector faceplanted after trying to balance on a pin for the longest time.

I was gonna add a read-more or chop this up better but no. You get to read the whole thing. If you didn't vote, or you voted for trump, I want you gone. Unfollow me, block me, because you clearly either don't care enough to prevent our slide into authoritarianism and a fixed court for the next 60 years, or you actively hate me.

[theothebogwitch]

My Thoughts on the 2024 Election Results…

How? How could he win again?!

A putrid, vile, decrepit man with no right to wield the power he has been given. A man so lacking in intelligence that he can barely form coherent sentences. A man who would see our democracy fall to ash and ruin instead of conceding to defeat. A man who insighted violence upon our nation's capital so that he might cling to his fleeting power.

How does such a man take the seat at the head of our nation once more, over an impeccably intelligent, well-spoken woman?

How?!

The outcome of this election feels like the punchline to a bad comedy. The looming fact that it is now not a matter of if my rights to live, and love freely and openly will be taken from me, but a matter of when. Rights that have been so vehemently fought for throughout decades of activism and protest, now will be dissolved before I have ever had the chance to exercise them. Where my heart not so blackened by despair, I could almost laugh at the cruel comedy of it all.

It doesn't feel real. It feels like a horrible dream. A terrible reoccurring dream that I cannot wake from. It doesn't make sense. How did he so handily win when he was so widely disliked? How did he win the popular vote? How did he win, when it was almost a universal sentiment that we needed someone younger in the Oval Office? Was I truly in such an air-tight leftist echo chamber that I couldn't fathom this outcome? Was I truly this blind to how far right our country had fallen? I am not one to fall for conspiracy easily, but it feels like there was some sort of outside influence or some underhanded business. How do we have a record-breaking voter turnout and voting lines longer than we have seen in decades... and yet nearly 18 million fewer total votes than in 2020?

Do men truly so vehemently hate women that they would rather sign the death warrant on our democracy than see a woman take the office of President?

Was the economy truly such a grand issue? Was his "concept of a plan" really so convincing? If you think a man, with 34 felony convictions, and at least 6 corporate bankruptcies, is going to fix our economy you are irreparably stupid. Was the false promise of lower gas prices so enticing that you would sign our country over to tyranny? All these economic promises are naught but illusions, and deceptions, lies told by a vile man who will do anything to maintain his chokehold on power.

And spare me the empty, condescending platitudes that masquerade as hope, for they offer no solace. The unbearable anger and despair that has come to bear upon my shoulders feels as if it could crush me under its weight. Each moment that drags on feels like an eternity, and the thought of waking to see the dawn of another day feels like an improbable miracle. Should I find the strength to draw breath as the sun rises tomorrow, it would be a testament to resilience against these shades that haunt this waking nightmare that has become our reality.

[discordiansamba]

lee can't bring himself to look at jin.

they've been dating since he was sixteen. they've been married for almost two decades. they've had three kids together. they run his tea shop together. they'd been planning to spend their entire lives together- watching as their children had children. passing the tea shop down to one of them. growing old together. he's always had such a clear cut path in front of him.

his life always seemed so simple.

"when we first met," jin slowly asks after an eternity of silence, "-were you still...?"

he thinks so. he can't say for sure. his mind is telling him that yes, he was lee then. he's always been lee- but he knows that's not true. he can't trust himself. the logbook says they'd met prior, so it must be true. lee remembers having an awkward dinner together. he'd tried to juggle for some reason. then they'd gone to see the firelight fountain together, and they'd shared their first kiss.

he asks jin if she remembers that.

she does. only...

"the lanterns weren't lit when we got there," jin says, "-you asked me to close my eyes for a few seconds. when I opened them, they were."

lee stares at her, because he doesn't remember that at all. he was pretty sure the lanterns had been lit when they'd arrived. he puts his head in his hands, and lets out a bitter laugh. because not only is that proof that everything written in that logbook must be true, but... spirits.

he'd lit those lanterns by firebending, hadn't he?

"lee-" jin says softly.

"-my name's not lee," lee says, "-apparently."

jin pulls his hands away from his face. she brushes back his bangs, cupping the left half of his face. he forces himself to meet her eyes. they've known each other forever, but she's also never really known him. he's never really known himself. somehow she manages to quirk a grin, and says she'd really managed to marry up if she'd nabbed herself a prince.

lee snorts. he can't help himself.

he doesn't feel like a prince. he's just lee. he runs a tea shop in the middle ring of ba sing se. he's ordinary in every way. he's been told he's one of the best tea brewers in the city, so he has that going for him at least. he tentatively asks jin to call him zuko, but when she does, it just doesn't sound right. it's not his name.

jin asks him what he wants to do. lee has no idea. his entire life is a lie- except, that's not really true, is it? it was a lie, but he's turned it into truth. everyone in this city knows him as lee. he's lived in ba sing se for longer than he ever would have lived in the... it's the caldera, right? that's where the fire nation capital is? spirits, he should probably at least study fire nation history a little more, if nothing else.

...he's been lee longer than he ever was prince zuko.

it's a sobering thought. he tries to think back. tries to pinpoint the exact moment when he'd opened his eyes and was lee for the first time. it's a futile effort, but he tries anyways. it had to have happened at some point when he was sixteen, after the fall of ba sing se. he remembers being forced to serve princess azula and her two friends tea.

before then, maybe.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, thinking back on it. princess azula had complimented him on being so polite and well-mannered. for knowing his place. most peasants these days don't seem to. he was always perfectly polite and well-mannered with those above his station- including his close friends. he quite literally could not help himself. the logbook detailed that this was a personal request from princess azula.

...who was his sister. apparently.

"this is so messed up," lee says, then glances at jin, "-how are you not contemplating divorce right now?"

jin leans over the table, and kisses him. she loves you, that's why. come to bed with her, lee. rest up. you can face this fresh tomorrow. lee sighs and lets her lead him into their bedroom- though he makes sure to take the logbooks with them, tucking them away in their dresser. they won't tell the kids. not yet.

(tomorrow he'll wake up and make breakfast for everyone like usual. get dressed in earth kingdom green like usual. braid his hair in earth kingdom style like usual. open the tea shop like usual. he half-expects the usual will feel all wrong.

it doesn't.)

still thinking about the bad end variant of the lee from the tea shop au and just. it's been years since the gaang met lee for the first time. he might not have gone on an adventure to save the world with them, but he's become their friend all the same during the time they've known him. his tea shop is a safe haven in ba sing se, away from their duties. away from all the political intrigue.

then katara sees his scar, and it turns everything on its head.

katara's so shocked that she doesn't say anything to him in the moment- and no one else saw it. lee's wife literally just gave birth. she holds it in desperately, until it's finally time to go. toph immediately demands to know what's got her heart racing like an ostrich-horse, so she tells them.

lee's scar looks exactly like zuko's.

it clicks when she says it. that's why lee has always felt faintly familiar. he's zuko. she wants to be angry. did he hide his identity from them on purpose? but he's so... different. it's been over twenty years since they saw zuko last, but he couldn't have possibly changed that much during that time, could he? she can't imagine the prince zuko she knew settling down and peacefully running a tea shop.

something's not right.

they pour over the dai li's records. sokka's the one who finds the logbook in code. it's accompanied by several others, but the dates in this one match up to after the fall of ba sing se. sokka spends a few weeks decoding the logbook, carefully transcribing the it into a separate volume. he doesn't get very far before he has to stop, hurling out the contents of his lunch into a bucket.

katara's right. lee is zuko. or he was.

sokka decodes the entire thing in one day. he doesn't want to have stop and come back to it later. everything in it is awful. tui and la- he didn't even like zuko, but he doesn't deserve this. to be rewritten into a completely new person, with new memories and a new personality? it's horrifying. it makes sokka's skin crawl. the way the person keeping the records writes about it is even worse.

the bulk of the logbook is from the four years after the fall of ba sing se. after that, it was only ever updated periodically- small updates. the last entry before the drop off simply says that the brainwashing is no longer simply permanent- it is self-sustaining. the subject's brain is now inventing its own answers to questions he asks about their past- answers which were not provided for him. the alteration is now complete.

i have good reason to believe it is irreversible, it says.

once he's done, sokka shoves the transcribed version on the others, and lets them deal with it. he collapses in bed- and it's only exhaustion that lets him sleep. when he wakes up, he just has to take one look at everyone's face to know they've read it- and told toph about the contents, judging from her equally green look.

zuko wasn't their friend.

lee is.

...how can they possibly face him now that they know the truth?

[everythingsinred]

i have, after about a year and a half, finished the rough draft of my book!

it needs heavy editing and some reworking, but i'm finished with this and i could not be happier <3

its so daunting, too, at a shocking 277516 word count...... much editing awaits me ;-;

[cuteniaarts]

The weight of the world is a heavy burden

Especially for a child

(Or, in slightly less dramatic terms �� I imagine that the first of her past lives that Avatar Suiren [who is the Avatar after Aang instead of Korra in my AU, and also Ghazan and Ming-Hua’s daughter] gets to talk to is Yangchen, because she is too plagued by memories not her own [including Jetsun’s death, fun fact]. And Yangchen wouldn’t want another child to go through what she did on their own)

(Or maybe someone just needed an excuse to draw @katkastrofa’s latest obsession in a context that interests them as well, just in time to maybe cheer her up a little? You can’t prove anything)

[emometalhead]

.

[ryanstillwrites-if]

regarding the glee smooth criminal. you should watch the scene where they sing it (santana and sebastian are the ones who sing). they have more chemistry than any of the main couples, and their characters are both gay.

i'm kinda insulted you think i haven't see that absolute masterpiece of a scene :/

[muskpunk]

yooooooooo 5am ptsd flashback gacha pulls just dropped wooooooo yeah lets go gamers!!!!!

[badbugbotblood]

My personal headcanon is specifically 8 (TurboTime twins, the player avatar of Roadblasters and the 5 RB NPCs (enemy cars/motorcycles and the jet craft that delivers the player's rocket launcher at the start of the level)) - while TurboTime had stands, I really like the headcanon that the spectators weren't actually entities. TT was a really old game, and it wouldn't have had the resources for that many characters, even if the spectators had only the most rudimentary coding (the two NPCs it had were visually identical! Like there wasn't enough room to squeeze in even one more additional palette to differentiate the two. They aren't even named in canon!).

Sugar Rush is a much, much bigger and more technologically advanced console with better graphics and more space for idle animations and pre-programmed responses from the candy fans. I don't think TT could possibly have had anywhere near as lively of a world behind the screens. The spectators don't even exist anywhere outside of the victory cutscene (which in and of itself probably ate up a fair bit of TT's available resources), so I think they're more akin to cardboard cut-outs (they do move in the podium part of the cutscene, but as one big unit rather than with individual animations) than living beings. Stage-dressing to act as eye candy for the victorious Player and nothing more.

[aliosne]

We all know this is the celibacy website but even amongst the tumblrites who HAVE fucked/dated, it boggles my mind how many assume you’ve only ever been with one person like my brother in christ I am almost 37

[rowanhoney]

i actually think London might be hell for me 🫶

[seresinhangmanjake]

About Time

Tyler Owens x Childhood Friend!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Tyler’s best friend since childhood, but a near-death experience makes him realize he feels much more for you than friendship and he shouldn’t have allowed himself to deny it for so long. 

Warnings/Notes: cursing, mild angst, mostly fluff, typos

Words: 2300

Masterlist

It was when he almost lost you that Tyler knew he was in love with you. When he was forced to play tug of war with the violent winds to keep you in his arms. When he felt your chest move against his with your shallow, rapid breaths. When he heard his name, a soft whimper from quivering lips. 

“T–Tyler…”

He tightened his grasp on your waist and mumbled, “I got you, darlin’. Just don't let go.”

At that moment, he didn't know if he could protect you, but the alternative was an unbearable thought. Living without you was unimaginable, unacceptable, so if the winds planned to take you, they would have no choice but to take him, too. Then at least you'd be going together. 

He’d always felt something for you, and he understood that he probably always would, but he'd been unwilling to give it a name more intense than a teenage crush that just happened to last well past its expiration date. And while your perpetually growing beauty and intoxicating laugh made it hard for him to tame what he continued to feel, he’d managed. 

But that fear of imminent death—more potent than ever—tapped into the depths of those feelings he’d been swallowing for more than a decade. The abuse of pelting rain and flying debris paled in comparison to the overwhelming storm breaking free from the neglected portion of his heart. 

Once disaster moved along, you looked up at him with wide, weary eyes, and he couldn’t think clearly past the repetitive chanting in his head: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, overpowering every other sense of logic and reason. He pushed strands of damp hair from your face, cupped your cheeks, then leaned down and sealed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. The first kiss. A kiss that typically has a much better outcome than what followed.

He hasn't seen you since that day. A week has come and gone and not one glimpse of your face, and now he’s more desperate for the sight than he’s ever been before. Missing you when you’re not around is far from new, but having released his feelings, the all-consuming sensation is worse. It’s harder to tolerate.

You're avoiding him, he knows it, but he supposes that can happen when someone kisses their best friend with no prior discussion of deeper feelings. It's not what he would do were the situation reversed—he'd still be all over you, kissing you back, smiling, never letting you go—but you've chosen to handle things quite differently, and in doing so, has left him no choice but to respond accordingly.

—

“Mornin’,” you hear, nearly dropping the pail of milk you’d been collecting all morning. Eyes darting to your right, you find Tyler sitting in one of the living room's quilted armchairs. Your heartbeat stutters. 

When you turn your head to the left, your mother is leaning against the kitchen countertop, her fluffy robe tied around her body and a cup of steaming coffee in her hands that she brings to her lips as she reads the newspaper splayed out beside her. 

“Mom, what is Tyler doing here?”

She glances up, swallows, and swipes her tongue across her bottom lip to catch the remnants of caramel-colored liquid. “Oh gosh, dear, he must've snuck in,” she replies, feigning ignorance. “But I’m not one for kickin’ anyone—especially not a fine, young man—off my property, so I guess he’ll just have to stay.”

With a huff, you set the pail down on the breakfast table, knowing your mother will take care of it, and shoot her a glare before making your way to the living room. Tyler stares up at you. You cross your arms and nudge your head toward the storage barn just behind the house where the two of you used to hold your late-night meetings when you were children, and later, teenagers. Many nights you spent in that barn after Tyler had snuck out of his parent’s house and chucked a pebble at your window to wake you. 

Tyler nods and follows you out the back door to the large structure that protects your privacy from the prying ears of the woman inside the house. 

“We gotta get you a new phone, darlin’,” Tyler says to your back once you're enclosed in the barn. “The one you've got doesn't seem to be receiving my calls…or texts…or elaborate voicemails.”

“Tyler…” you sigh, twisting to face him.

“You know we gotta talk about it,” he says. And he’s right, despite how the complicated element introduced into your relationship is entirely his fault and so you shouldn’t have to owe him the time of day until you're ready to give it. “You didn’t have to run away from me.”

“I didn’t run.” Tyler’s eyes follow the movement of your arms wrapping tighter around yourself and he swallows hard. “I walked.”

“Speed-walked,” he counters. “Borderline jogged.”

You groan, your tense shoulders sagging. “Tyler listen, I just–”

“Do you really think disappearing on me was a fair thing to do?” he interrupts. “I’m your best friend.”

Your jaw drops at the audacity. Not surprising, really; Tyler’s always had a way of wording things that gets under people’s skin, but out of the two of you, he is the last person who should be doling out the criticism. 

“Fair?” you huff. “You’re the one who–”

“I mean, what was so wrong with it?” Long fingers slide through his blond hair. “Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about me in that way? It hasn’t crossed your mind once? No sex dreams? Nothin’? ‘Cause I’ve been wrestlin’ with it since fuckin’ high school, but ok, sure, fine.”

“Ty–”

“And I know it was unexpected but was it really that shocking? Don’t you think we’d be good together? I think we’d–”

“For fuck’s sake, Tyler, will you let me talk!” you snap, your voice carrying throughout the barn.

If you were trying to preserve your privacy, you’ve definitely failed now. Half of town probably heard you and they’re nothing short of a mile away, but at this point, Tyler has pushed you well past caring. Let them hear. Let them know what’s going on between you. They all saw him kiss you anyway.

“We nearly died,” you continue. “People around us did die.”

Tyler’s face breaks down and you instantly regret your words. You know he stuck around after you left. You know he helped everyone he could in the aftermath of disaster while you let your emotions override your system and ran home to cry to your mother over how he just rocked what was your very steady relationship.

“Look,” you sigh. “Even if I wasn’t thinking about death—and that is a massive ‘if’—I told myself a long time ago that you are my friend, just my friend.”

Tyler’s hands settle on his hips. His eyes fall to the floor and his back teeth clench. “Why?”

“Because I repeated it so many times in my head that it solidified,” you tell him, throwing your arms up. “You know why Bradley dumped me last year? And Pete a couple years before that? And Bobby back in high school?” you ask. “Because of you. They all sensed this weird…energy…from you. All of them. Do you know how many times I had to tell them they were crazy? Do you know how many times I had to tell myself that I was crazy whenever they brought it up to me and I actually considered the possibility of you feeling that way?” 

You know exactly how many. Bobby had mentioned it five times before he decided he was done; broke it off with you right before prom and scoffed when he saw that Tyler had stepped up as your date. Pete was shorter-lived; asked you about Tyler three times before he said he could see which way the wind was blowing and had no interest in getting in between anything. And Bradley held the record at seven, each time making the fight outdo the one prior before he was simply fed up with the friendship you refused to sacrifice. Three boyfriends have ditched you solely because of Tyler, and fifteen times you had to talk yourself down from the jolt of excitement you got from imagining him loving you.    

Taking a deep breath, you say, “You don’t just get to kiss me and not let me sort out my thoughts for five damn seconds.”

Tyler’s head snaps up, jaw ticking and eyes blazing. “Five seconds?” he spits. “I haven’t seen you in a week. That’s the longest we’ve gone since I graduated.”

“This isn’t just about you; how you feel; what you think; what you want.”

“Then what are you tellin’ me?” Tyler asks.

The light quiver in his voice unnerves you. Not because you aren’t used to him expressing himself to the fullest—and if he’s ever going to be vulnerable with anyone, it’s with you—but that quiver is typically the trigger for you comforting him, taking him into your arms and holding him, letting him wrap himself around you until he feels better and is ready to stop. For some reason, you never noticed how long he would stay tied to you when you gave him the chance. 

“Are you feelin’ like this is it?” he continues. “Are you wantin’ us to be done?”

And suddenly, you’re irritated again. You can’t stop the roll of your eyes. In no universe would you ever be done with Tyler Owens, and the fact that he would entertain otherwise is asinine. “Don't be dramatic.”

“Well, what do you expect!” he shouts. “You’re actin’ like I’m about to lose you!”

“I didn’t say anything like that!”

“But you're mad that I kissed you!”

“Damn it, Tyler! I am not!”       

Green eyes widen, his breaths heavy from his heaving chest. His mouth opens then closes then opens once more. “You’re—” He licks his lips as you watch him grasp for words. “Then why haven't you called me back?”

You shrug. “I don't know. We've never fought before, and I thought you'd be pissed that I walked off, which clearly you are, so…”

“That’s not true,” he says, moving to take a step closer to you before thinking better of it and staying put. “I haven’t been pissed, darlin’, just terrified. And missing you. And…wanting you.” Heat flares your cheeks, forcing you to tear your eyes away from the desperation in his. “But I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to…I mean, you left and I thought…”

You shake your head. Whatever he let himself think, he was wrong.

The silence that settles over you is thicker than you're used to in his presence. You're used to laughter and jokes, sweet comments and banter. Tension zings in the space between your bodies, but it's pleasant, electrifying, invigorating. You feel the full impact of everything that was tucked underneath the stress and anxiety of barrelling through such a hard conversation. 

Tyler feels it too. His face shows it. His eyes you can only describe as heatedly glittering as he stares at you staring at him. His brows are pinched from frustration of a different kind. It's his lips, though, that reveal his thoughts better than any other feature. They're softly parted, glistening from a swipe of his tongue like he's ready to lock them to yours at any second. Like he needs to be ready just in case you give him the go-ahead so he can kiss you before you dare rescind your permission. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, words quieter than you meant for them to be, but Tyler hears you.  

His chuckle is short, half-formed, partially overtaken by the exhale of a breath. You detect a slight tease, as if you should already know the answer to that question. 

“That I wanna kiss you again,” he says. “So fuckin’ bad.”

The corners of your mouth struggle not to quirk upward. “Tyler.” He hums. “You know what it means if we do this, right?”

He nods. “We can’t go back,” he says. “But darlin’, I don’t wanna go back. I wanna keep on goin’...with you.”

“Everything will be different.”

“Not everything. We're still us, we'd just be kissin’ and touchin’ and, you know, doin’ other stuff,” he replies with a smile. “Hopefully.”

You picture Tyler standing before you as you have secretly wished you could have him for years—bare and muscled and grinning and telling you he loves you—and for the first time, you aren’t awash with guilt and shame. It feels right to think of him like this. Natural. There’s a soothing ocean of serenity flowing under the flames of desire, and it hits you that this was probably inevitable. All the pieces were there—friendship, trust, love—all there was left to do was act on it. 

“You won't change your mind?” you ask, stepping to him. 

At your question, distress takes over Tyler's face, but it melts into a grin once he notices your smirk. He closes the remaining distance between you and takes your hand, carefully interlocking your fingers. 

“No chance,” he tells you. 

“Ok,” you say, nodding. “Well, if you’re absolutely sure, then I guess it’s ok if you kiss me agai–”

Your chuckle is muffled against his lips. His fingers untangle from yours and he guides your hand to rest on the back of his neck so he can cup your cheek. His free arm coils around your waist, pulling you in closer, and your body melts into his. Your brain fuzzes. You lose all awareness of your surroundings. You think you might just stay like this forever.

----

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

another childhood friends to lovers believer???? YES YES YES!!!! can i please request bakugou and reader moving in together, and reader shows him a memory box she's kept since they were kids...like photos, random trinkets he got her, pressed flowers, birthday cards...and he's like one second away from bursting into tears, because this is 2 decades worth of love (and many more to come) 😭🥹💗 thank you, mwah x 💖

memory box !

you take a trip down memory lane..

a/n : OH. MY GOD. I literally Had to write this this is genuinely adorable anon you are SMACKING. i lub this

cw: literally all fluff, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TORAGAHAHEHG, katsuki gets emotional quickly and i live by this, lmk if i missed sum !

“oi !” katsuki calls out from behind you “do i throw this out or not ?”

you look back, only to see a little red box in his hands. your little red box.

you shoot up, dropping the clothes you were stacking in your shared dresser. “no, don’t!” you reach out and hold your arms up, katsuki looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowing harder.

he shakes your box around, bringing his ear to it to hear the rattling and clinking of the objects inside. “what the hell is in this thing ?”

“don’t shake it around like that !” you shriek, ripping the box out of your boyfriend hands and leaving him shocked. you smile to yourself, slowly sitting down on the wooden floors of your new apartment. your new apartment with katsuki.

“i never actually showed you this, huh.. ?” you watch as he follows you after a moment of looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, crouching down next to you with eyes fixed on your little shoe box. you remove the lid and immediately a sense of nostalgia shoots through you, you hadn’t looked at this for a while now.

“this is my memory box, i’ve had it for years.. i think since i was..what, seven ?” you wonder out loud, you’d definitely had it for a long, long time. katsuki sits next to you silently while you excitedly look through it.

“oh yeah, definitely seven—look this is the friendship bracelet i made for us !” you exclaim excitedly. it’s definitely more than a bit worn, that was the main reason you put it in this box, it was the first item you’d put in there.

you’d made one for you and one for katsuki, using your precious loom band box set you’d gotten for christmas. you’d used up all of your orange and black for it and worn yours until it started fraying. you almost cried when one of the bands snapped and you’d gotten too big for it, or it had just gotten too little for you. you refused to throw it away and found a random empty shoe box to put it in, and the rest was history.

“oh, and these are left over tickets from when we went to the fair, my keychain you got me from the aquarium—i remember you begged your mom for it.” you laugh, begged was an understatement. you remember how mitsuki pulled him away because he was causing a scene, you didn’t understand why he was so insistent on getting a souvenir, you had a good day as you all walked around looking at fish and katsuki dragging you around by the hand like he built the place himself. you remember how excited he got when you got to the shark exhibit.

you didn’t get it, until he stopped you when you were ready to leave with your own parents, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and avoiding your gaze as he stretched his little arms out and wordlessly offered you a little penguin keychain, mumbling something about how you looked happy when you saw them, ears pink while his mom smirked behind him, his father smiled down at you both kindly.

that was the first present he’d ever bought for you. with his mom’s money of course, you giggle at your own thoughts. but he’d still gotten it for you because he thought it’d make you happy. it was your treasure and you wore it on your bag for years until it started getting dirty, and you’d hid it in your shoebox to keep it safe.

you suddenly realize your boyfriend’s been awfully unlike himself for the past few minutes, silently blinking at the contents of your box and now at your little keychain.

you suddenly feel a bit self conscious, maybe he thought it was weird..

you blink in surprise when he reaches for your penguin chain and you offer it to him. it’s a bit brownish now, having lost its shine over the years. he runs his thumb over the fuzzy faux fur.

“thought you forgot about this..” he mumbles to himself.

your eyes shoot wide. “wha—no way ?!”

“ya stopped wearing it on your bag so i thought you got rid of it.” he doesn’t look angry, simply observing the chain, letting it dangle in the air.

“i just didn’t want it to get any dirtier than it clearly already is” you joked. you’re in deep now, shuffling around for more items in your box. katsuki joins you this time, pulling out an old picture.

“holy shit.” he breathes. you catch a peek at what he’s looking at only to see the both of you.

“woah, we were so small !” you giggle. it was a picture of your grade school entrance ceremony. you remember katsuki stubbornly refusing to take it and it took his mom about ten minutes to get him to stay put and take the shot. you’re all smiles, waving at the camera like you’d been instructed to and gripping katsuki’s hand. said little boy had an angry, angry frown on his face, sticking his tongue out at the camera.

“you’re cheeks were huge.” you laugh, katsuki sits down properly to nudge your shoulder with a huff. “shaddup,” he says, though there was no real bite to his words. “you weren’t any better than me.” you laugh some more and continue to pull things out. “where’d you even get this ?” he asks.

“your mom gave me a copy.”

“fuckin—of course she did.”

there’s a blurry picture you’d managed to take of katsuki when you’d gotten your first polaroid camera, and some pictures from when you’d convinced him to get in a photo-booth from your first date at the fair. dozens of birthday cards he’d written for you, you’re tempted to read them all right now but you worry katsuki might get embarrassed and actually throw the box out, so you’ll do that later.

the flowers he’d plucked out of the ground one random afternoon at his house, a rock he'd given you because it looked cool, a couple of seashells you found at the beach together, a dried up four leaf clover he claimed would bring you good luck, the container of the lip balm you were wearing when he kissed you for the first time. years worth of memories all in your little shoebox.

“fuck, you really kept all this stuff..” you hear katsuki mutter. you turn to see him still with that elementary school picture in hand, staring at it thoughtfully.

“course i did.” you hum, leaning against his side. “i spent all of my childhood with you suki, that’s unforgettable to me. i wanted to make sure i wouldn’t ever forget how much you mean to me.” katsuki’s eyes fix yours as you continue talking. and you realize how they slowly turn glossier. he realizes when you do and quickly ducks his head, scoffing to himself but a sniffle slips out.

“hey..” he shakes his head, you don’t continue, only reaching to hold him in your palms. he shoves his cheek against one, chuckling to himself.

“shush.” he mutters, voice cracking, his eyes remain shut to not let anything slip. he presses a kiss to your skin, grabbing at your wrist. "you're gonna be the fuckin' end of me, y'know ?" you laugh, rubbing your thumb against his skin, you feel him sigh against your palm.

"love you."

you smile "i love you too" you whisper back. "so, you still wanna throw it out ?" you joke, katsuki's eyebrows furrow.

"fuck, no." he asserts "it's staying here, an' i'll give you more shit to fill it up with."

and you truly couldn't be more excited, starting a new chapter of your life with the boy that had shared it all with you. you want your shoe box to be filled to the brim with more and more memories of you both, all of them just as close to your heart as the last.

"hmm," you hum "can't wait."

taglist :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

[teamred]

so contagious

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | smut | 2.8k

SUMMARY | following the kissing from your movie night, logan takes you out on a proper date, while you take him back to your place afterwards. // part two of any other way

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (female receiving), piv s*x, unprotected s*x // this is 70% fluff - 30% smut!

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i didn't intend to make a part two, but so many of you loved it, i had to give it a shot! this one is from logan's perspective. yes, i know this logan is a bit ooc, but, in my head, this takes place some time after worst!logan enters wade's universe and he's softened up. please leave some love if you enjoy it!

Logan has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, he debates if he should choose the pale blue plaid shirt he's currently wearing or one of his brown ones instead. But if he chooses the latter, it'd be too similar to the one he wore when you saw him yesterday. 

Overthinking isn't his style, and yet here he is, obsessing over something as trivial as his shirt color. It’s been decades since he’s been on a proper date, maybe even ever.

“Well, don't you look handsome,” Wade cuts through his thoughts with a grin and folded arms, peeling himself away from the kitchen door frame. He saunters over, reaching out to touch Logan’s hair, only for the larger man to shove him away immediately. 

“Not now, Wade.”  

Wade sniffs his hand dramatically. “Oh, my God–you even used hair product! This is so exciting. It's like witnessing a teenager on his first date. I feel like your mom!”

“Well, Mom,” Logan refocuses on the mirror, fixing the mess Wade made of his hair, “you can fuck off.” 

Wade points a finger at him with mock sternness. “Hey, watch your language, young man.” 

Then, to Logan’s surprise, Wade grows momentarily quiet as he stands next to him, both facing the mirror. “Also, the blue shirt’s the better choice.” 

“Yeah?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the brown plaid shirts laid out on the couch. 

“Yeah,” replies Wade softly, and Logan catches a genuine smile in the mirror. The heartfelt moment doesn’t last long though when Wade claps him on the back. “And don’t be so nervous, Wolvie. You already went to second base with her last night. The deal’s pretty much sealed.” 

Logan scowls. “I’m not nervous.” 

“Mm-hmm. You say that, but you’re being even more testy than usual. Dare I blame it on the hormones?” Suddenly, he plants a quick kiss on Logan’s cheek.

“What the fuck?!” 

Logan recoils, then almost lunges at him instinctively. However, Wade’s already retreating and walking backwards, making a beeline to his bedroom with a wave of his hand. 

“Be back by curfew, sweetie! But text me if you’ll be out late, or if you need anything. Some snacks, some condoms—” 

“Wade!” he growls, his patience wearing thin. 

Wade blows an air kiss, disappearing into his room. “Love ya! And you got this!” 

Logan mumbles to himself, “Yeah, I sure hope so.”  

Turning to the mirror for one final check, he adjusts his collar and straightens his shirt. His phone vibrates on the living room table and he reads the incoming texts from Laura: 

- hey sorry for the late reply - but if you haven’t gone out already, i prefer the blue over the brown - not that it matters though - she’ll find you handsome either way - don’t worry! it’ll go well :) 

Logan nods, reassured by Laura’s texts. It’s just a date with someone he’s already known for a little while; it’s not like a blind date or anything. He can do this. 

With one last look in the mirror to check his hair and beard, he grabs his keys and wallet, slings his dark brown leather jacket over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Logan pulls up in front of your apartment complex and gives you a quick call to let you know he’s here. When you step out of the building, his eyes can’t help but sweep over you—fitted jeans hugging your curves, an off-the-shoulder top that shows just enough, and that stunning smile that lights up your face.

He notices you checking him out too. Realizing that his hair might be messy, he quickly combs his fingers through it as you stroll over. 

“Long time, no see,” you joke, referencing how you saw him just yesterday.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan greets, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels. He holds a helmet out to you, but catches how his grip is more tense than usual. “You ready for a ride?” 

You nod, eyes sparkling with excitement. As he steps away from his bike to help you with the helmet, he finds it endearing how you lift your chin and pout a little, making it easier for him to secure the straps. He hopes his touch isn’t too rough, but when your eyes meet his and you smile up at him, he knows he must be doing something right.

With his hands so close to your face, his mind flashes to how he palmed your cheeks and neck last night as he kissed you deeply. It’s presumptuous, but he hopes for a repeat tonight. 

Once you hop on the bike behind him and wrap your arms snugly around his waist, he revels in the warmth of your body against his. As he weaves through the city streets, he occasionally glances back to make sure you’re comfortable. 

Logan thinks to himself how good this feels, to ride around freely with someone he cares for by his side. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone get this close to him… 

Maybe he could get used to this. 

Eventually, he pulls up at an old diner he’s grown fond of across town. The place gives him a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times (and, even though he tries not to think of it, it also brings back memories of that one time with Wade in the Void).

He offered to take you here because it’s familiar, cozy, and he didn’t want to overthink this date with reservations to some high-end restaurant.

Walking across the mostly empty restaurant, a waitress leads you both to a window booth, where you sit across from each other.

At first, there’s a bit of awkwardness—Logan recommends what’s good on the menu, and you take a moment to decide what to order. His foot taps on the floor as he peeks over the menu, sitting in the silence uncomfortably. 

But once the waitress takes your orders, conversation flows more easily, just like it normally does at Wade’s get-togethers.

You check in with how Laura’s doing, if he and Wade have been on any more assignments recently, and how his motorcycle is running since he fixed it last. 

Logan’s grateful you’re leading the conversation and asking questions; it’s always been easier for him to listen than to talk. 

But he’s putting in effort tonight—he takes it upon himself to know about your life outside of work, if you’ve been reading anything lately, and how you felt about the ride over to the diner.

“A little scary, but it was fun!” you grin, resting your chin in your palm. “I’m just glad it’s you driving it. Like I said yesterday, I always feel comfortable and safe around you, Logan.” 

As your foot brushes against his under the table, Logan’s gaze meets yours. You flash him a shy smile, and before he can think twice, his foot instinctively strokes yours in return. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind—Is this the kind of thing people do on dates?—but your soft giggles melt away his hesitation. The lighthearted game continues until the arrival of your food.

You dig into your food, and a random thought crosses your mind. “Have you ever used your claws to cut your food?” 

Logan pauses mid-bite, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “You know, in all of my two-hundred years of living, I’ve never really thought to try it.” 

“Probably ‘cause you always have a knife around,” you say. 

“Probably,” he smirks. With a glint in his eyes, he unsheathes his claws and the sound makes you jump slightly in your seat. 

“Whoa,” you whisper, eyes widening in awe. Logan realizes you’ve never seen them before. Slowly, he extends his hand, the blades gleaming under the diner lights. 

“Go ahead,” says Logan softly. “Just be careful.” 

You reach out carefully, your fingers grazing the cool, polished metal. You’re both unusually quiet, your attention fully on each other.

Once you pull away, he turns back to his plate with a slight grin. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”

With surprising finesse, he slices through his burger using his claws, the action both impressive and a little absurd to witness. 

You burst into laughter, the sound contagious as he joins in. “Logan, I think you need to stop before you break the plate.” 

He chuckles, retracting his claws and grabbing a sliced up chunk of his burger. “Yeah, probably a good idea. At least we know the answer to that question now.”

As you move on to dessert, you savor a slice of cheesecake while Logan indulges in a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When he’s almost done, Logan takes a slow lick off his spoon and catches you staring at him. 

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” he asks with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as he takes another bite of pie.

You scarf down the last few bites of your cheesecake before answering. 

“Okay, I have to ask—” you lower your voice and lean in across the table “—can you actually smell how horny someone is?”

Logan freezes mid-chew, remembering what happened yesterday before you left.

“Fucking Wade…” he mutters, shaking his head. After a beat, he sighs. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God, you totally can…” 

All Logan gives you is a brief laugh and a shake of his head. He fishes for his wallet, tosses some cash onto the table, and then stands up with a grin. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get outta here.”

As he pulls you to your feet, you ask half suspiciously and half in jest, “Are you saying that because you can smell something or…?” 

“Maybe, maybe not...” he teases. He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you to the door. “Either way, let’s head out. C’mon.” 

As you step outside and Logan helps you with your helmet again, you look up at him with a different look this time than before—one that signifies that the night’s only beginning. 

As you fumble with your keys in front of your apartment door, Logan steps in from behind and grips one side of your waist. He leans in, pulling you close, and kisses the crook in your neck. You inhale sharply, losing focus as you melt into his touch. 

After you finally manage to unlock the door, Logan quickly shuts the door behind him before he presses you up against the wall. Initially, you share an intense kiss, but it soon becomes fervent and open-mouthed. Rough edges of his beard even brush against your lips at some points. 

Both parties quickly kick off their shoes. He peels off his leather jacket and aids you with yours. Still lip-locked, he then lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his waist; his evident desire presses against your body. 

Logan drags your top off, his heated kisses trailing from your mouth, to your neck, and down to your clavicle. His mouth leaves love upon your breasts before he pushes your strapless bra down. You gasp as his push is so rough, the bra merely snaps off and falls away towards the floor.

But Logan doesn’t stop—he hones his attention towards your hardened tips, sucking and nipping with a fervor that makes him lose himself in you.

The moans that fill your entryway only drive him crazy further, along with your fingers tugging at his hair tightly. His hands are needy, kneading your other breast with a blend of tender and strength. After a moment, he pulls back, gently setting your legs back onto the floor.

He kisses his way down from your breasts to your stomach, dropping to his knees in front of you. Logan blinks up at you as he helps unbutton your jeans, pulling them and your panties off and tossing them aside. The sight of you, completely bare and vulnerable, only heightens his desire.

He kisses your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he moves towards your core. The scent of your arousal is unmistakable and intoxicating, but it’s the way your body reacts to him that drives him wild. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulders, he dives in without hesitation, his tongue exploring your wetness.

His tongue skillfully works over your most sensitive areas, each touch and flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Logan is so immersed in the moment, he feels like he's freefalling, lost in the intensity of it all.

The need to be inside you drives him to a point of near frenzy, his own body responding with instinctive thrusts. Each lick and suck against your folds is fuelled by both the need to make you feel good and to be desperately inside of you.

“Logan, Logan—” 

You shatter and unravel for him, jerking your hips against his mouth. He holds you still, securing your orgasm rides out fully. Once you do, he stands up and kisses you gently, intermingling your taste with his tongue.

Dazed, you hook your fingers with a couple of his and lead him towards your bedroom. You lay yourself on the bed first, while he watches you as he strips his shirt and tank top. He sees the inflamed hunger in your eyes at the sight of his entirety. 

Crawling over to you on the bed, his hands roam your body, caressing you passionately before the next part. When he finally undoes his jeans and belts and throws them aside, he looks at you intently. 

“Do you have—?”  

You shush him with a finger, whispering, “Just get inside me, Logan.” 

A smirk spreads across his face as he aligns himself with your slit, teasing you slightly before sliding in. Being inside you draws out a low groan from him, while you throw your head back and expel a long moan.

When you finally acclimatize to his girth, he starts to thrust slowly and kisses you throughout. It’s so easy for him to lose control, to get this over and done with, but he wants to make sure it feels good for you as it does for him. 

But it doesn’t help when your hands dig into his back and your walls clench harder around him. 

“Faster, please,” you beg. 

He checks in with a smug grin, cocking his head slightly. “You sure, gorgeous?” 

You nod breathlessly, “Please, Logan.” 

And that’s enough to make him lose all restraint. He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more intense and primal. His thumb circles your clit, and the combination of his hard thrusts and gentle touch brings you over the edge in unison. He ensures you’re satisfied first before he pulls out and marks you with his release. 

Panting, he catches his breath, and grazes the back of his knuckles against your thigh. Logan turns to look at you. “You ready for round two, beautiful?” 

You laugh with disbelief and exhilaration. “Wait, round two alr—?” 

Logan cuts you off with a deep kiss, his grin wide and satisfied. He feels you smiling into his kiss, your excitement matching his own. 

Oh yeah—he definitely could get used to this.

EPILOGUE — ONE WEEK LATER 

Back at Wade, Logan, and Blind Al’s apartment during another weekend get-together, you’re seated next to Logan at the dining room table, caught up in a quiet conversation with him amidst the animated chaos around you. 

Suddenly, Wade appears behind you, throwing his arms around you both and playfully squishing you together.

“Say ‘thank you, Mommy Wade for our beautiful dating life and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and I’m gonna name our kid after you and—’” 

“What the hell is happening?” you cut in, looking at your new boyfriend. 

“Just ignore him, baby,” Logan groans, shaking his head. 

“Already using terms of endearment? Y’all move fast,” Wade quips. “And is that any way to treat the person who got you two lovebirds together?” 

“Hey, I helped too,” Laura interjects from Logan’s side.

Wade waves her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You might’ve mentioned something here and there, but I saw the vision, and not Wanda’s, might I add.” 

“I’m not gonna call you ‘Mommy Wade,’ but I will thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He gasps theatrically and ruffles your hair with exaggerated affection. Times like these remind you why Wade has always been one of your closest friends. 

“Well,” says Wade, as he steps back to return to his seat, “at least one of you appreciates Cupid Wade’s handiwork.”

Later, while you’re chatting with Yukio and Ellie, you notice out of the corner of your eye Logan and Wade exchanging glances across the room. Logan gives Wade a small, grateful nod. 

“Thank you, Wade,” Logan mouths, his expression soft and sincere. 

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade mouths back with a wink, raising his beer in a mock toast. 

You catch Logan’s eye, and both of you share a smile that speaks more than words ever could.

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

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when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."