#i almost just gave up on it to go find another one

[flameblade3]

You’ve been at this for a while- years. Hundreds of happy couples made under your guidance. You’ve learned a few things over the years, some people don’t have those threads yet. Maybe for infants they’re just not born yet, or for others maybe something needs to change in their future soulmate before they would be ready. You’ve seen people holding hands while each of their strings runs off in different directions. You swear you’ve seen a few people whose soulmates switch almost every week. Even asexual or aromantic people had one, they simply led them to someone who would be special to them, content to live with but no need to love. After all, no one truly wants to be alone. But one thing always remained the same… they had one. You waited and waited and waited, but you never were able to see those strings wrapped around your own fingers like everyone else’s. Leading soulmates together always had a rather violently bittersweet taste, knowing that you might never get to feel that same sweet sensation that they must all get when they realize how well things worked out. One day, a rather simple looking lady walked through your business’s door also without strings attached to her fingers. You were shocked

“Excuse me,” she started, “I heard this would be the place where people can always find their special someone?” She asked

You gave your usual business monologue: “well you heard correct! Here we have a near 100% success rate that every person we guide to another will live their happily ever after.”

The woman chuckled, you raised an eyebrow, “it’s funny,” she laughed again, you felt something in your chest, “I did the same thing for so many others back home, but could never find someone for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was late so no one else was in the building. “Ma’am, could you come to the desk, please?” You asked, trying to hide the frantic tone in your voice

“Ah, of course!” She came forward

You leaned in and asked “can you see strings on people’s fingers that lead them to others?” Trying to sound as serious as possible so she knows you’re not joking

“Wh- I,” she stammered, “how did you know!?”

“Because I can do the same thing. And no matter how long I waited… I could never see strings on my own hands, and I can’t see them on your’s”

She was dead silent for a moment, she kept glancing between your hand, your face, and her hands. “Oh my… you’re right… I don’t believe it!”

“Well, it’s almost closing time for me, so how about I make you my last client for the day. Would you care to go for a walk? The travel must have been long and my desk is rather cramped. Plus, I know a really good place to grab dinner around here.” You stood up and held out your hand, she took it with a soft shake. Her hands were softer than you expected, she took better care of herself than her other features let on.

The two of you left your business as you locked up the building and began your walk, both of you hopeful that maybe, finally, you found your special someone.

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

[freeabortionslol]

family addition (quinn hughes x gf!reader)

summary: reader finds a stray kitten and decides to bring it home, not telling quinn about it until he gets back from his roadie

warnings!! cursing

a/n: another short fic while i'm writing a longer one. also ik that it's a much longer process to adopt a stray and get it's shots, but this is fiction. i had to give some love to playoff beard quinn bc we love him sm.

wc: 1.8k

10pm walking home from the gym became a routine. You always preferred to go at night, considering there were less people men to bother you. It was about a .5 mile walk back to your apartment that you shared with Quinn. You weren’t too worried about walking alone at night considering you trusted the city, and Quinn always made you carry a taser in your belt bag. He was unfortunately out of town for the next few days, playing the Canadiens and the Leafs. Still every night you would make your walk to and from the gym, headphones out in case anything were to happen, and every night it was normal, except tonight. It was drizzling ever so slightly causing your annoyance to peak as you made your way back. The drizzle quickly turned into a more powerful downfall the closer you got to the building. Frustratingly you sprinted your way up the steps, punching in your passcode at the door ready to go inside, when you heard a faint “meow” from the bushes next to you. You stepped away from the door, trying to follow the sound of coos and whines. You leaned down on the pavement to the plants where you saw the smallest gray kitten you’d ever seen. It was alone in the dark, in the rain, pleading with you to give it shelter.

“Hey angel.” You spoke softly, reaching your hand out towards the kitten. It immediately moved closer, nuzzling its head in your palm. Your eyes turned into hearts at the sight, knowing you couldn’t just leave it out here in the rain. You weren’t even thinking about what you were doing when you gently picked the cat up, bringing it inside with you. Both you and the kitten were grateful for the warmth of the heating system inside. It trembled in your arms, its tiny body pressing closer to you as if to soak up every bit of warmth it could find. You carefully carried the kitten up to the apartment, cooing soft reassurances as you climbed the stairs. By the time you unlocked the door, it had relaxed in your arms, a quiet purring sound vibrating against your chest. The sight was so adorable to you, you almost cried. That night the kitten slept in the bed with you, curled up against your chest. The next day was spent at the vet's office, getting it the right shots to be sustainable, then the pet store to get food. You spent the whole day with this kitten, falling in love with it by the minute. The thought of Quinn’s reaction crossed your mind several times throughout the day. You didn’t know what to expect, considering you’d never talked about pets with him. You’d seen how much he loved his parents' golden retriever, but you didn’t know how he was with cats. After all, it was his apartment so he ultimately had the final say on keeping Puck or not. That's the name you gave him after finding out his gender, hoping that the hockey roots would make Quinn fall in love just like you had. The cat slept curled up to you once again for the second night. In the morning, you got out of bed quickly knowing that Quinn would be home soon. You knew how he was after long roadies; tired, hungry, and mentally exhausted. You left Puck in the bedroom, shutting the door behind you, to start making breakfast. You decided to make Quinn’s favorite, chocolate chip pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream in hopes that it would sway his decision. You had a soft playlist ringing quietly throughout the house, mostly Cigarettes After Sex. You piled three pancakes on a plate, quickly topping it when you heard the lock of the door twisting. Quinn entered the apartment wearing a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair falling messily in his face. His beard had grown ever so slightly since he left last week, and you made a mental note to tell him how sexy it looked later.

“Hey, baby.” Quinn placed his suitcase by the door, quickly walking over to engulf you in the longest embrace ever. You took in the scent of his cologne as his grip around your waist tightened. “What are you doing up so early?” He said before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“It’s not early, it’s 9.” You laughed, running your hand along his bicep, grateful he was finally home.

“You’re avoiding the question.” He smiled softly as you ran your fingers through his tousled hair, covering his face. You slipped out of his grasp to turn around and present him with your homemade breakfast. “No way.” He said, quickly taking the plate from your hands. He sat at one of the barstools along the kitchen island, already diving into your hard work. “What’d you do?” He asks in between bites, mouth full.

“What are you talking about?” You gave him a sly smile, leaning against the kitchen sink across from him.

“You only make these when you’ve done something wrong.” He shakes his head looking down at the plate.

“What? No! I made them just to show you how much I love and missed you.” You couldn’t have sounded more guilty which he took note upon, squinting his eyes and sending you a half smile. He laughed it off and the two of you continued your small chats as he devoured the pancakes down to the plate. He told you stories about the guys from this week's games, and you told him about brunch with your friends and your shopping trip. You left out a key detail; there was a kitten in his bedroom. You had let it slip your mind, forgetting about it entirely. When he was done with his breakfast, he loaded his plate into the dishwasher, and the two of you went to the couch to relax. You were both sitting up, your head leaning on his shoulder while his arm wrapped around you. He went to pick up the tv remote when you heard a little “meow” coming from the bedroom. Your heart dropped in hopes that maybe he didn’t hear it?

“What was that?” Fuck. he heard it.

“What was what?” You laughed it off, trying to play dumb, but the cat cooed again.

“That!” He said, desperately trying to figure out what it was and where it was coming from.

“M-maybe it’s the stove. I probably forgot to turn it off.” You quickly got up from your seat, headed towards the kitchen.

“Stove doesn’t sound like that, baby.” He said looking back at you from the couch. You were pretending to adjust the stove when you heard the kitten begin to scratch at the bedroom door. “Hey, babe?” 

“Hm?” You cracked out, anxiety filling your lungs.

“What’s scratching at the door?”

“The…stove?” You let out, not able to find a better excuse. Quinn started walking towards the bedroom, to which you responded by racing there first, standing in front of the door to block him.

“What did you do?” He asked in his gentle parenting voice.

“I- uh…I love you?” You gave him a sheepish smile. He tilted his head to the side, his face becoming more stern. “Okay okay- just…Ugh!” You covered your face with your hands. “Just shut your eyes and hold out your hands.” Quinn did just that, stepping out of the way so you could open the door. When you turned the knob, Puck was sitting there in desperate need of affection. You pouted your lips at the kitten, knowing this may be the end of your wonderful friendship. He eagerly climbed into your arms, and you handed him over to Quinn whose eyebrows furrowed trying to figure out what was in his hands. “Okay, open.” Quinn looked down at the kitten, widening his eyes. His mouth parted slightly but no words were able to escape as he pulled it up to his chest. His eyes quickly softened when the cat curled up into him, purring against him. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation wondering what he would say, but his attention was fixated on Puck. “I found him outside the building I had to take him in.”

“Baby-”

“It was raining.” You gave him puppy eyes. “He was all alone in the cold city.” You pet the kitten's head. Quinn sighed and threw his head back slightly.

“He’s really fuckin’ cute.” He said, causing a hopeful laugh to escape your lips. “But, we can’t keep him.” You looked up at him, eyebrows knitted and pouting your lips.

“But, wh-”

“It’s just too much, babe. We’re always out of town, you have work, and I don’t even know if the complex allows pets.” He gave you a sympathy filled half smile.

“For god's sake, you’re Quinn Hughes! I'm sure the complex would allow the captain of their favorite hockey team to keep a kitten, especially one as precious as Puck.”

“Puck?”

“Yeah, that’s what I named him. Figured if I added a bit of hockey into the mix it might sway your vote.” You spoke softly, tears welling in your eyes. Quinn sighed heavily, looking down at the kitten who’d fallen asleep in his arms, then back to you. He knew adopting a cat wasn’t the most responsible thing to do at this time, but he also couldn’t bear the sight of you like this. 

“Since you’ve already grown so attached to Puck in the last two days, I suppose he can stay.” You looked up at him, your smile growing wider by the second. “Don’t make me regret this.” He laughed, stroking the kitten’s head with his finger.

“Thank you, thank you, thank youuu!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arm around his neck for a hug, making sure to not squish the kitten. “I love you so so much!” You began placing kisses all around his face, until eventually landing a peck on his lips. His face grew red and his smile widened before pulling you back down to the couch with the kitten in his hands. You all got settled into your spots, your head lying down on his thigh, sharing the spot with Puck as Quinn gently rubbed your back. Quinn put on a romcom the two of you had seen several times, just happy that he was finally home, even if it meant he had to deal with a new roommate.

“If this thing pisses on any of my furniture-”

“He won’t.” You dragged out in playful annoyance. Quinn sighed, trying to keep his moody attitude, but eventually failing, realizing why you wanted the kitten to stay so bad. He pet Puck gently, watching as he curled up into a ball on his lap. He couldn’t help smiling in awe, grateful that you had been so impulsive on your walk back home from the gym.

“You love him.” You mumbled, smiling as you drifted into sleep.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. “Maybe just a little.”

[ennn]

Unpacking the Deals of Ep 8: Why and What They Mean

So episode 8 is... let's say a bit of a mess. I know there's some confusion around why Agatha proposes her terms for the first deal, why Rio flipped into cackling villain mode, why Rio makes another deal, etc.

Here's my read that hopefully helps draw a line from point A to B to C.

Let's consider the context of the first deal: Agatha's not having a good day. Two coven members who Agatha never expected to care about have died trying to protect her – a thing that has never happened before. And Death happens to be a person she can blame.

Death, who is pressing on that bruise ("Your coven is shrinking") and making her shitty day worse because she wants the kid Agatha is hardcore projecting on (and also didn't plan to care about) to die. Just like Nicky.

But Agatha then realises she has leverage on Rio. For the first time in forever, she has an advantage she can exploit. She can be in control.

And it's almost instinctive for Agatha at this point: finding the best buttons to push, the best terms for her given the opportunity.

Agatha: If I deliver Billy, you let me go. Rio: You will eventually die, Agatha. Agatha: But I want you to stop pursuing me. I want you to stop making my life hell. And when I die, a long, long, long, long, long time from now, I don't want to see your face. Rio: ... Okay.

The terms that Agatha sets out seem cruel because they are. She says what she does because she wants it to hurt. Agatha's not only rejecting Rio's continued presence in her life, she's denying all the love that Rio's given her, building on what she's said before ("You gave me nothing.")

From Rio's POV, Agatha's cutting words aside, this entire deal sucks. Because the options are:

(a) Agatha doesn't hold up her end, which Rio knows might happen: Rio knows Agatha cares about Billy ("I know how you feel about him"). Rio's constantly reminding her he's not Nicky. She was already doubting Agatha would deliver her usual number of corpses. She saw how affected Agatha was after Alice's death.

If Agatha doesn't help, she'd be choosing a boy over everything Rio's done again – and this time another woman's.

And if Rio somehow manages to take Billy anyway, Agatha will end up hating her twice forever.

(b) Agatha does hold up her end, which might also happen: Rio knows Agatha's manipulative and smart and capable. More than that, she's well aware Agatha hates her. That Agatha still doesn't see what she's done for her ("No one in history has had special treatment like you").

That she knows Agatha does care about Billy but maybe hates her so much that she's willing to go through with this to cut her out from her life. Billy would be a dear price but one Agatha's maybe willing to pay.

Even if it was a 50:50 chance for these options, I think Rio realises her relationship with Agatha is doomed either way.

Either way she does her job, with or without Agatha's help, she's going to be rejected and lose. One's just a slower path than the other.

I think that's why Rio gives in to her rage and bitterness and spite. Agatha thinks Rio's been making her life hell? She'll show her hell.

And Agatha, well I think there's some merit to the thinking that she didn't expect Rio to fold that quickly and completely.

Now for the context of the second deal, it's not clear whether Rio knows what happened with Tommy. I assume Rio doesn't – not yet anyway – as she doesn't mention it at all and seems focused on squaring that one life Billy stole.

Now here's where it gets a little squirrely, to borrow Schaeffer's language. Because if you don't look too closely, it seems to make sense: Billy stole a life so to maintain the natural balance, Rio needs to take a life, the one Billy has now.

But how does Agatha's life work as a substitute for this imbalance (“This means you’re coming with me”)? Would any other person’s life work? Could Rio have swapped someone else's life to save Nicky then? Agatha would have been all too happy to arrange for that murder.

I doubt the show is ever going to explain this so I offer few possible theories to deal with this weirdness:

Billy Maximoff is a product of chaos magic, so his existence and everything he affects already throws off the natural order, just to different orders of magnitude. Agatha’s life works as a substitute because his life is now intertwined with hers e.g. his hex probably saved her life from the Salem Seven and has the potential for greater imbalance

Rio is aware of Agatha’s tendency towards chaos and defiance of the natural order. Rio bent the rules of the universe only for Agatha. Taking her life would protect the balance in the larger scheme of things – if only so Rio won’t be further tempted to give her special treatment.

When Rio’s torturing Agatha it’s before she presents the second deal. So she’s still intending to go after Billy, she’s just removing Agatha as an obstacle while lashing out in rage and heartbreak.

In this moment Rio probably thinks Billy's in the wind. She saw how upset Billy was with Agatha at the end of episode 5. And Rio knows the reputation Agatha keeps ("Why do you let them believe those things about you?"), Rio probably thinks Agatha deliberately drove him off to keep him safe.

Then Billy pops up and Rio sees that Billy and Agatha care about each other and they're both aware they care about each other.

Fuckin’ great. Rio's not bitter at all.

Looks like you two are finally on the same page. So I'll let you decide. One of you stays with me. The other walks free.

Agatha proposed a deal designed to hurt her? Now it’s her turn.

From Rio's POV, I think here are the possible outcomes:

(a) Agatha sacrifices herself for Billy: Not impossible I think. Rio knows Agatha cares about the boy but she also knows Agatha will do anything to survive. She thinks she's above death. But again, I think Rio also knows Agatha would have sacrificed herself for Nicky if she had that choice.

What did Lorna want from the Road? To save her daughter.

This isn't an ideal outcome for Rio but she’s already resigned herself to losing Agatha I think, one way or another. This way if Agatha wants Billy to live so badly, this is the price she has to pay. The high cost of living.

(b) Billy steps up and sacrifices himself: Very possible given that Billy’s a young heroic sort and already showed up, risking his life to power up Agatha. Rio gets to do her job. Agatha will probably hate her more given the Nicky trauma but Rio’s already resigned to this on some level already, which is why she's raging.

Either way Agatha's going to hurt, and Rio's going to hurt.

It's interesting that when Billy does volunteer himself and Agatha seizes the opportunity to remind Rio of their earlier deal, Rio just shakes her head and looks amused.

You can also see for a brief moment Agatha looking almost remorseful about doing this before slipping her theatrical villainous mask on, overcompensating for her true feelings.

Do you remember pain? It kinda tickles doesn't it?

By the letter (not the spirit or intent) of the first deal, Agatha did ultimately fulfil her part:

I can arrange that. I can get him to the finish line and deliver him to you.

This is an opportunity that's almost impossible to resist for someone as calculating and ruthless and selfish like Agatha. She has power (chaos magic no less), she can have Rio leave her alone forever (she knows Rio honours her word), she knows Billy cares about her but can she really trust him?

But Agatha ultimately decides to take a risk. A calculated one sure, but still a risk.

I think the beauty in the kiss and her sacrifice is how – despite her calculating the odds – Agatha is choosing to give in to what she feels and wants in that moment.

Because she does want to protect the boy in a way no one did for her when she was young. She wants to save Billy like she couldn't with Nicky. And she does want Rio so much despite everything that's happened.

[pandapetals]

Don't Leave

Logan doesn't want you to leave.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

"Just one more kiss, sweetheart," Logan murmured, his lips brushing yours. His hand, warm and steady, rested against the small of your back, holding you close as if reluctant to let go.

You smiled, though you tried to hide it, glancing at the clock over his shoulder. "Logan, I’m already late," you countered, but despite your words, you made no move to pull away. His arms felt too comfortable around you, too familiar.

Logan gave a small huff, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Exactly," he said, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead. "You're already late. What’s another minute?" His thumb gently traced a circle along your hip, his tone casual, though there was something behind his words—something you could feel in the way he was holding onto you just a little tighter than usual.

You chuckled, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. "Is this your subtle way of saying you don’t want me to go? Because if it is, it’s cute."

Logan narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pulling into a half-smirk, but you could see the flicker of vulnerability in his gaze—the one he tried so hard to hide. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, his voice rough, but his eyes softened as they searched your face. "Just stop smilin' at me like that."

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like you're gonna go, and I'll be fine with it," he muttered, his hand slipping up to gently cup your cheek. "I don’t like it, and you know it."

The truth of it hung in the air between you—Logan, with all his strength and gruffness, was still so achingly tender when it came to you. Even though you were just leaving for a few hours, it was enough to make him restless, enough to make him worry in that quiet way he did. You had seen it in his eyes earlier when you'd first mentioned the trip, the way his jaw had tightened just a little, the way his hand had lingered on your arm longer than usual.

"Logan," you whispered, your smile fading into something more tender as you leaned into his touch, your forehead resting against his. "I’m just going for a few hours. It��s not like I’m going across the world."

"Doesn’t matter," he muttered, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "Could be a few hours, could be a day... either way, I don’t like when you’re not around." He paused, his voice dropping to a lower rumble. "Can’t help it."

Your heart swelled at the quiet confession. Logan didn’t open up easily—his vulnerability was something he kept hidden behind all the gruffness and strength. But with you, he let those walls slip, bit by bit.

You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart, feeling it beat steadily beneath your lips. "I’ll be back before you even know it," you promised, though you could feel the weight of his worry pressing against you.

Logan let out a long breath, pulling you even closer like he couldn’t quite let go yet. "Yeah, well," he muttered, his lips grazing your forehead again, "don’t keep me waiting too long."

"I won’t," you said, your voice soft as your hands ran up his chest to cup his face. You tilted his head down slightly so your eyes could meet his. "You’re gonna be fine, tough guy. Promise."

Logan huffed, though the ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. "Don’t like it when you leave," he repeated, almost as if he couldn’t help saying it again. "But yeah, I’ll be fine." He paused, his eyes locking with yours, his hand brushing the back of your neck gently. "Just... come back to me."

You smiled softly, leaning up to press a slow kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth of him. "Always," you whispered against his mouth. "I'll always come back to you."

He kissed you once more, deeper this time as if sealing the promise. When he finally pulled back, his hand lingered in yours, fingers brushing over your knuckles as he let you go reluctantly.

As you turned to leave, grabbing your bag, Logan watched you, that familiar look of quiet concern still etched on his face. "You got your phone?" he asked, his voice a little rougher now like he was trying to cover up the softness.

You smiled, holding it up. "Yes."

"Just makin' sure," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away. "Text me when you’re on your way back."

"I will," you said, pausing at the door to give him one last look. "Don’t worry so much."

Logan scoffed, shaking his head slightly. "I always worry about you, sweetheart," he said quietly. "You know that."

As you walked out the door, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you like a blanket. No matter where you went, or how long you were gone, you knew Logan would always be waiting for you and y ou couldn’t wait to come home to him.

[shitsndgiggs]

Heyyy

What about something very cutesy where Kenan and reader are on vacation(where he went this summer with his friends) and reader is waiting for Kenan to get ready on their bed to go out for dinner and when he finishes he goes to her and they kiss etc and Kenan doesn’t want to leave anymore but the reader obliges him. Little messy I know😔

STAY IN? - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan wants to stay in

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The hotel room was softly lit, the sounds of waves crashing on the beach outside filling the air with a peaceful rhythm.

I was sprawled across the bed, my legs dangling off the edge as I absentmindedly scrolled through my phone.

Kenan had been in the bathroom for what felt like forever, getting ready for our dinner reservations.

I sighed dramatically, calling out to him, “And you say I’m the one who takes forever to get ready? What’re you doing in there, applying a full face of makeup?”

From behind the closed door, I heard him laugh. “Patience, woman. I’m almost done,” he teased back.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. I was honestly just excited to spend a night out with him after our long day exploring the island.

It felt like we were in our own little world here, with no schedules, no responsibilities—just each other.

Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, and Kenan stepped out, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

My eyes traveled over him, taking in the sight of his sun-kissed skin and how ridiculously good he looked in that fitted shirt. He smirked when he caught me staring.

“What? You like what you see?” he asked, his voice a low tease as he crossed the room to me.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You clean up alright, I guess,” I said, though the way my eyes lingered on him gave me away.

Kenan’s smirk widened as he leaned down over me, one hand resting on the mattress beside my head. “Just alright?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Yeah,” I teased, my heart skipping a beat as he brought his lips closer to mine. “But you really took your time in there.”

“Maybe I was trying to look good for you,” he said softly, brushing his lips over mine in a quick peck.

I let out a small, satisfied hum, intending to sit up and head to the door, but Kenan had other ideas. He caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face back toward him.

Another kiss—slower this time, his lips lingering on mine like he was savoring the taste.

I sighed into the kiss, melting under his touch as he deepened it, turning what was supposed to be a quick peck into something that had my toes curling.

The kisses came one after another, each one slower, more drawn out than the last. Kenan’s hands slid around my waist, pulling me flush against him as he tilted his head, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss that left me breathless.

It was the kind of kiss that made the world outside fade away, the kind that made me forget about dinner reservations and everything else.

“Mmm,” Kenan hummed against my mouth, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. “Maybe we should just stay in tonight…” He mumbled the words between kisses, his voice husky and warm.

I let out a breathless laugh, pushing lightly at his chest even as I felt myself giving in to the way his fingers traced circles against my skin. “Kenan,” I protested weakly, but he only kissed me again, his lips finding that spot just below my ear that made my knees go weak.

“Seriously,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, “I don’t think I can leave this room now.”

As much as I wanted to just melt into his embrace and forget all about dinner, I knew we’d regret missing it. I placed a hand on his cheek, pulling back just enough to look into his darkened eyes.

“We have a reservation,” I reminded him, though it came out in a breathless whisper.

Kenan groaned dramatically, leaning his forehead against mine. “Who cares about food when I’ve got you right here?”

I laughed, gently detangling myself from his hold and stepping back. “We can come back here after dinner,” I promised, giving him a cheeky grin. “But first, we eat.”

He gave me that adorable pout, but there was a glint in his eyes that told me he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Fine,” he sighed, grabbing my hand as I started toward the door. “But you owe me dessert when we get back.”

“That can be arranged,” I said, my heart fluttering at the way he looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

[achilles-rage]

good luck charm: bonus drabble

come and get your love

summary: after a hard day, you do something to cheer evan up.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: this might be stupid, but it was fun to write and i think it’s cute so sue me!! sigh, i miss good luck charm evan, and i'm sorry this took so long, i just couldn't think of any scenarios i really wanted to tell. if you have any drabble ideas for this series, i'm happy to hear them! enjoy<33

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re in the bedroom putting away some laundry when you hear the front door slam, and you jump in surprise, a frown making its way onto your face immediately. You know exactly what that door slam means; Evan has had a bad day. 

“Hi, baby.” you say, peeking your head over the railing and looking at him in the kitchen getting some water. You offer him a small smile when he looks up at you, and although he gives you a smile back, you can tell it’s fake even from up in the loft. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you sigh sadly.

When you make it to the bottom of the stairs and walk towards him standing near the fridge, you wrap your arms around his neck and raise up onto your toes to give him a kiss. You feel the way he melts into your embrace, and it’s almost as if you can feel all of the stress radiating off of his body; it’s practically suffocating you, and you can’t even imagine how he feels.

“Rough day?” you ask, and he nods once, jaw clenched.

He’s been working extremely hard the past few weeks at the LAFD training academy, and while he comes home most days exhausted but content, there’s some days where he can get overwhelmed.

“You have no idea.” he tells you, his hands finding their way to your hips. You give him a sad smile, then pull him down for another kiss, hoping to get him to relax a little bit more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He huffs at your question, thinking for a moment. He knows it would be better to get it out of his system, but he doesn’t want to dump it all on you. He knows how hard you’ve been working at your new job, and he doesn’t want you worrying about him as well.

“Hey, we don’t keep stuff in, that’s not what we do. You told me that.” you urge him softly when he doesn’t reply right away. He sighs, a smile fighting its way onto his face at your reminder. He nods after a moment, looking into your eyes and rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

“The physical stuff is fine, I’m passing everything easily. Just- The instructors say stuff; try to get into your head. It just got to me today.” he explains with a frown. You nod your head as he speaks, keeping your gaze locked with his. When he’s finished you tilt your head to the side, waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t, you raise your brows.

“Do you want to tell me what they said today that got you so worked up?” you urge. You don’t necessarily want to push him, but you know that he needs to talk it out, so you keep your eyes on him, as if pleading with him to tell you.

“We were doing this drill today, and there were a bunch of dummies. They gave them all back stories to make them feel real. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in it and in my mind they were real people, because they will be one day. I tried to go back into the building even when some of the other guys let the fire get out of hand because there were still a few dummies left in the building, and some guys had to hold me back.” he says in one big breath, and you follow along with furrowed brows, hoping he’ll continue.

“Well, they know I have you, and I guess they picked up on the fact that I was thinking about you the whole time; thinking about you in there. They were just saying stuff about me not being able to save you because of my mistakes, and about you having to plan my funeral because I got reckless on the job and I got myself killed.” he continues after a moment. He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits for you to reply, and your eyes soften at his admission. 

You shake your head, bringing his head down to rest your foreheads against each other with your hand on the back of his neck. You keep him there for a moment in silence, trying to gather your thoughts before you reply.

“My love, your heart is what will make you a good firefighter. You care so much about people. And I have no doubt that you’d be able to save me if you had to, because you’re smart, and capable, and you love so deeply. And I’m not gonna lie, the thought of you getting hurt on the job has crossed my mind, but I know that you’re gonna fight to come home everyday, aren’t you?” He nods immediately, brows furrowing.

“Of course, I will. You know I will.” he replies, and you smile.

“Then I’m not too worried. Worry about actually finishing your training first, and then we’ll talk about you dying on the job, okay? Because I guarantee that when you start at an actual station, you’ll trust your team a lot more than the recruits. You can’t even imagine all the stories my dad has told me about the people he had to train with.” you tell him with a small laugh. You can still see a bit of hesitancy in his eyes as he tells you that you’re right, so you lead him to the couch and sit him down.

“I know exactly what you need.” you tell him when he sits down, then turn and grab your phone off the kitchen counter.

A small, real smile finally makes its way to his face when he sees you scrolling through your phone, knowing exactly what you’re about to do. When one of you has a bad day, the other always does something to make the other smile. He doesn’t even remember when or how this tradition started, but he does know that it always makes him smile regardless of how many times you do it.

His smile widens when he hears the beginning to Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love from the speaker connected to the tv, and you turn from your spot in the kitchen to face him.

You walk over to him as the beat starts, moving your shoulders in time with each step and fighting back a smile, and when the singing starts, you grab the tv remote off the coffee table and begin to lip sync into it.

He watches as you dance to the music with a wide smile, watching the way you move your hips in time with the music, and he can already feel himself start to feel better. He chuckles when you grab one of his hands and duck down to spin under his arm, and when you turn back to face him, you drop his hand and back up a few feet.

When the chorus starts, you continue lip syncing as you raise your hand in a “come here” motion, rolling your body in time with the beat. He gets up off the couch, keeping his eyes locked with yours, then grabs your hips, pulling you against him. 

You both sway to the music with smiles on your face. You can tell that he feels better, and you’re extremely grateful. You know how stressful the job can be, and you only hope you can help him through it as much as you can. 

The song finally ends, and he lifts you up with his hands going to the backs of your thighs, and you giggle as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You always know what to do, princess.” he says with a grin, and all you can do is lean down to press your lips to his. 

“I know what else I can do to help you feel better.” you murmur against his lips. You feel his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, and he groans, pulling back from your lips to look at you with blown pupils.

“I’m keeping you in bed until tomorrow morning.” he teases, then sets you back down onto the ground. He then grabs your waist and turns you towards the stairs, then pushes you forward gently, but not before giving your ass a firm smack. You yelp at the contact, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder as he speaks.

“Go upstairs, princess. I’ll be right up.” 

“What are you doing?” you ask, but obey and walk towards the stairs.

“I’m ordering takeout, gonna see what I can do before it gets here.” he teases, and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes.

His eyes dart between your ass as you walk up the stairs, and his phone, and when he’s finally placed the order, he races up the stairs two at a time. 

He grins when he sees that you’re already naked, sprawled out on the bed and sitting up on your elbows waiting for him. He groans as he takes off his shirt, then unzips his pants, and then he’s on you in an instant, lips attaching to your neck.

“How could I do this without you, princess?” he whispers against your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath hits your neck.

“You’d be lost without me.” you tease as you tilt your head back. You feel him grinding against you as he chuckles, and you lower your chin to meet his gaze when he leans back to look at you.

“Damn right, I would.”

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[forgetmaenott]

ILOVEYOU - TADC Showtime One-Shot

summary: Much to his confusion, Caine finds himself with the most unusual symptoms around Pomni. Sometimes he overheats, sometimes he blue-screens, sometimes he even glitches. It doesn’t worry him too much until he happens to hear of a little thing called ‘the love bug’.

inspired by : https://www.tumblr.com/dismas-n-dismay/762033111925194752/something-about-one-of-the-first-major-computer

tags : @certifiednerd01 @sm-baby

The virus had first crept its way into his code during one of their “lessons”.

It was a routine at this point. After one of their adventures and a digital meal, Pomni would retreat to her room. Usually she’d stare off into space and try to process the absurdity of that day’s adventure, only to be interrupted by Caine teleporting to her room. These days, though, he kindly knocked on her door to respect her space. She’d let him in, usually with a tired smile before he’d ask for her feedback on the adventure, and then their conversation would gradually shift topics until they lost track of time.

One particular night, she had been telling him fragmented memories from her real life. She couldn’t remember her name, or anything particularly personal, but she still remembered scattered feelings or moments, just with blurred faces and missing names. It was cathartic for her, to have someone to tell about her memories and gradually piece them together, ever-so-slight--especially when that someone was an AI who hung on her every word.

He laid on her bed beside her, gloved hands propping his chin up to gaze at her as she spoke. His front resting on her bed, legs kicked up and swinging behind him.

"...oh! that's another thing humans do. Traditions, I guess? Based on the seasons. Over the summer, some people like going to the ocean. A real ocean, it's bigger than you can imagine. It's sort of terrifying. We haven't even explored half of it," Pomni rambled on. Sometimes, she got so comfortable she forgot anyone was even there listening.

Caine gasped dramatically. "Really? All of that technology and you don't know most of what's down there? How spooky!"

Pomni blinked before laughing softly. "I mean, yeah. I guess we're pretty advanced. I mean, just look at you," she said before realizing.

Caine dusted off his suit. "What about me?"

"W-well, you know, cause you're...not human?" Pomni trailed off shyly, almost worrying that she had offended him in some way.

"Ha-ha! Oh, Pomni, you’re so silly. Of course I know that," Caine wiped a fake tear from his eye before lifting a finger, "as a matter of fact, I named myself!"

Pomni leaned towards him curiously. The closest she had been willing to get to him yet. "Really?" she asked curiously. “I-I didn’t know that. How’d that happen?”

"That's right," he replied, but to him the topic of conversation had immediately went on the back burner. She was listening to him. She was genuinely asking about him. Who had ever done that? Oh, dear, had she always had those pinwheel eyes? Oh, how he loved the color red. Especially now that he knew she had red in her eyes. The same shade of his suit, too.

He caught himself when he realized they were sitting in silence, her awaiting him to continue. He cleared his throat awkwardly, regaining his composure. “Oh, dear, I lost my train of thought didn't I? What was I saying?"

"Your name?" Pomni prompted.

Caine blinked. “Oh, right! Of course. Well, I wasn’t originally coded with a name. So, when I became sentient—and I mean fully sentient—I gave myself my name. Can you guess what it means, my dear?”

He had gripped her hand excitedly, prompting her to guess. He rarely had anyone be so genuinely curious in him and it was a little more than refreshing, to say the least.

Pomni bit her lip in thought. “I really don’t know,” she admitted.

“Go on, guess!” Caine piped up, always one to jump straight towards the path of games.

Pomni definitely was not a fan of guessing games. She looked around uncomfortably, wracking her brain to come up with something. “Uh—well, I think I can guess what the A and I stand for…” she smiled gently, “as for the rest of it…Creative Artificial Intelligence uh…I don’t know. Something, something.. Entertainment,” she guessed weakly.

“I like the sound of that! But not quite,” Caine corrected. He flew above her, dramatically gesturing to the colorful words that popped up as he spoke. “Actually, it means…Creative Artifical Intelligence Networking Entity!” Confetti rained down on Pomni and she swatted it away. “Ah, apologies—it’s a habit.”

Pomni coughed as a digital piece of confetti unpleasantly entered her mouth. "It's fine," she brushed off before focusing on the acronym in front of her, "so I was close."

Caine floated down beside her again. "Actually, 'something something' is not part of my name, my dear!"

Pomni blushed slightly at her silly wording, looking away sheepishly. "Y-yeah. I know that."

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. She was blushing...why? To his knowledge, humans flushed out of embarrassment or heightened body temperatures. She certainly couldn't get sick here, so why on Earth would she be embarrassed? "My little lemon cake, is something wrong? Did I embarrass you?"

Pomni glanced back at him, surprised he picked up on her emotions. He had never done that before. Never been so...caring. "Huh? Oh, no...it's nothing. Really."

Caine watched her for a while, unblinking. He never blinked, but it was especially noticeable now. Pomni was a generally nervous person, but she seemed to be blushing more intensely at his attention. "You seem to be ashamed. Why is that?"

Pomni broke their eye contact. "Caine, I'm alright. I-I mean I appreciate it, but--"

Her words were cut short at the feel of his gloved hand over her own. Comforting her. Trying to be empathetic. Just like they had spoken about. "You can tell your ringmaster anything that digital heart of yours desires," he recited from his research on human comfort.

Pomni wasn't embarrassed, truthfully. At least, not to the extent he was trying to make it. But with his hand on hers, with him learning, she certainly felt...something. She smiled weakly. "I know, Caine. ...Thanks," she offered a shy response, ‘I…you’re doing good.” She tentatively squeezed his hand.

A flutter ran through his code, a strange shivering sensation he had never felt in his existence. She had praised him. She thought he was doing good. Oh, dear, he hadn’t felt this good since the last time he received overwhelmingly positive feedback on his adventure. Which was an awful long time ago. Not to mention, she had touched him. His analysis of her behaviors these past months had taught him how touch-averse she was, yet here she was, holding his hand. But not only had she not pulled her hand away like usual, no--she had subconsciously reciprocated, wrapping her gloved fingers around his hand. Human warmth around artificial cold. He was too afraid to move his hand, his system quite literally freezing in place.

The rest of their night continued as normal. Their conversations jumped from adventures to Pomni’s favorite fruit, and then they’d eventually part ways for the night. It waa a routine.

But now, there was a strange presence of static where his stomach would be, growing larger the more he watched her smile.

—————

It was following their adventure at the lake where Caine experienced his first glitch.

She had experimentally kissed him on the cheek—or what could be considered his cheek—in a way that left him frozen, unable to teleport them down as he normally would have.

“Anything for you, dear.”

She had looked back at him with a gentle smile, digital moonlight reflecting lightly against her wide pinwheel eyes. Her eyes so grateful, so inviting as he rested by her side at the digital lake. And there it had been again, that static starting to spread from his chest to his core. The glitch, growing larger.

When they had parted ways that night, he had found himself secretly checking back his memory to revisit the moment. He replayed it, over and over. The way the moonlight reflected in her eyes, the blush tinted on her pale face, her sheepish smile, the way her gloved hand had so gently held the bottom of his jaw before pressing her soft lips against him—oh, how he wished he hadn’t frozen up after she kissed him. Maybe he could have returned the favor.

The thought alone, the memory of her lips pressed on the left side of his jaw, sent a flutter through his code. And then, when he imagined her blushing face after her bold kiss, the space around him seemed to glitch ever-so-slightly.

Oh, no matter. These things happened sometimes.

So why did it only seem to happen when he thought of her?

—————

If he had been trying to be subtle about his favoritism, he certainly wasn’t doing a good job of it, either.

Initially, he sought out to challenge Pomni’s stubbornness by tailoring an adventure just for her, just to win her over. But as time went on, that desire to protect his ego expanded on to an endless attempt to impress her. Maybe it was, in part, for the sake of his ego. But the static he felt when she praised him, the way he’d catch himself staring when she smiled, there was something so authentic about it. Something he couldn’t quite understand, but he knew he wanted to feel more of.

Today, they had returned from an adventure that, in his opinion, was the best one yet. It had everything! Stakes for Jax, maturity for Zooble, friendly NPCs for Ragatha, an unlimited supply of comedy masks for Gangle, detailed digital insects for Kinger, and for Pomni, the option for a relaxed open-world adventure. Even the furthest inches of the map were coded with details intended for Pomni’s eyes only. Her favorite fruit hanging from a digital tree, or flowers in her favorite color blooming, the right amount of digital sunlight–anything he remembered about her.

Caine was on the edge of his seat to see her reaction today. He hoped she had seen all the details he’d coded in for her. He hoped he’d get to see her smile again. It was so pleasant to see. He caught himself smiling at the thought before his Wacky Watch alerted him of the others returning.

He floated excitedly towards the opening portal. “Welcome back, starlets! How was the adventure today? Thoughts? Praise? Feedback? Angel food cake?”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Not enough death, violence, and bloodshed. Also, it’s no fun if Gangle has unlimited masks.”

Gangle smiled, huffing contently. “I liked it.”

Zooble shrugged. “It was…fine.”

“Guys, be nice,” Ragatha scolded before smiling up at Caine. “It was…better.”

“So many new insects,” Kinger whispered in wonder, retreating to his pillow fort to add them to his collection.

“Yeah, yeah. Where’s our digital feast? I’m starving,” Jax complained.

Caine didn’t hear Jax’s words, eyes immediately drifting to the red-and-blue jester walking out of the portal. Odd–he felt like his system was overheating at the sight of her. He’d have to check on that later. “Pomni! My dear, how did you like the adventure? Did you happen to notice any hidden details today?” Caine flew down to her, resting his chin on his hands as he awaited her response eagerly.

Pomni smiled shyly. “Yeah, actually. It reminded me of a lot of that shore I told you about. Thank you, Caine…really,” she said sincerely.

Caine flew into a loop excitedly. “Oh, splendid! Tell me more, my dear! What else did you find appealing?”

Pomni had begun to walk towards her room as she spoke and he was quick to follow, not missing the chance to earn her praise. “Well, it definitely was an improvement from yesterday. I liked the extra details on the scenery. And everyone else seemed content. I’m sure you could ask them,” she offered, flushing slightly from his attention.

“Oh, but I want to hear your response to my adventure! You’ve given me such great feedback, my buttery biscuit,” Caine stopped her in her tracks, floating in front of her path. “Do you think I did good?”

Pomni blushed. It was obvious how highly he favored her attention, and the sidelong glances from the others weren’t helping. “Um, I-I…yeah. You did, good, Caine.”

Caine could have shut down there and then and been happy. “Oh, you flatter me. Do you really think so, my dear?”

“Sheesh, lay off it. Are we going to eat or not?” Jax interrupted, crossing his arms as he watched the two.

Caine shushed him. “Y-yes, just a moment, Jax. I want to hear more feedback from Pomni. Tell me, my dear, was the story to your liking? Did I do good with that?”

“Um, Caine, I–” Pomni rubbed her arm uncomfortably.

Caine lifted a finger. “Ooh! Or how about the designs for the NPCs? Did I go too far with the details, or did I not do enough? And what about the secret quests I added? Did you like that element of surprise? Or–”

Jax groaned. “God, are we ever going to eat? Or are you just going to stand here compliment-fishing with Pomni all day?”

“Jax, be nice. They’re just working on improving the adventures,” Ragatha scolded, offering Pomni a grateful smile, “and I think it’s working pretty well.”

“Who cares? All Caine is doing with these adventures is trying to impress Pomni,” Jax groaned, crossing his arms, “that’s not an improvement. That’s just desperation.”

“T-that’s not true!” Caine was quick to pipe up. “I like all of my super stars an equal, legal amount!”

“Drop it, Jax,” Pomni put her foot down, a light blush on her cheeks despite it all.

Jax snickered. “Of course you’d defend him, short stack. You probably like being the ringmaster’s little favorite, don’t you?”

Caine’s upper jaw arched downward. “I do not favor any of my stars over the others! I’m simply gaining feedback from my dear friend.”

“Give it a rest, Caine. We all know you’re only doing this for her. You don’t give a [#$!?] about the rest of us. Just face it. You’ve got the love bug for our dear jester friend,” Jax mocked, flashing a sarcastic grin at him.

Pomni flushed instantly. “Wh—J-Jax!”

“Who said something about a bug?” Kinger peeked out of his pillow fort excitedly.

“The…love…bug?” Caine’s systems froze instantly at the words “love bug”. Oh, dear…Jax was onto something. The freezing, the overheating, the glitching? It was all coming together. He knew what was happening. He had heard of this before, but never imagined it would one day affect his programming…

“Well, would you look at that. He is lovesick after all,” Jax mocked.

“Love…sick?” Caine looked around at the others, confused and concerned at him suddenly freezing up. Panic settled within him, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. “I-I…ahem, a-a digital feast as your prize,” he announced weakly, snapping a feast into existence at the table. “Enjoy, my dears. Adventure awaits tomorrow.” With an abrupt snap of his fingers, he dissipated from the main room, teleporting to who-knows-where in the circus.

Silence filled the room at his reaction, ultimately broken by Jax scurrying over to the table. “God, I thought he’d never leave.”

Pomni bristled. “You’re an [#$!?]hole.”

Jax shrugged, taking a bite of his digital meal. “As long as I get to see funny things happen to people. Just never thought I’d see the day Caine would go soft for one of us,” he grinned mischievously at Pomni, expression insinuating everything she needed to know. “Besides, what does it matter to you? Unless…you have the ‘love bug’ for dentures over there?”

She blushed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Pomni defended weakly, but her voice was drowned out by the stirring of conversation amongst the others.

Pomni didn’t eat anything, her stomach filled with knots and butterflies all at once.

-------

Caine’s digital form was filled with knots and static, all for her.

He desperately reviewed his memories–the glitching, the static he felt, everything. Oh, dear. Jax was right, wasn’t he? How could he have been so oblivious this whole time? How could he have not realized sooner?

Bubble floated in beside him as he checked his memory. “Hey, boss, check out this joke I came up with! Why is—”

“Not now, Bubble! I have some very important business to attend to,” Caine cut his bubble friend off instantly.

“Business? You mean watching back memories of you and Pomni?”

“Y-yes, I—it’s nothing! I need to run some tests,” Caine abruptly answered him.

Bubble’s sharp grin widened, if that were even possible. He floated upside down. “You mean how you’re in loooooooove?”

Caine brought his gloved hands to his top jaw in frustration. “The love bug!” he corrected briskly, “Yes, yes, I know! Just—leave me to it, Bubble. The entire circus depends on it.”

“Heheh, love bug,” Bubble laughed to himself before being popped by a very panicked Caine.

“One less distraction,” he mused before running some more diagnostics on himself.

-------

Pomni stared blankly at her ceiling the next morning. It seemed that her worst fears were coming to fruition. Jax saw right through her. The others had to have noticed how oddly drawn she was to Caine. It was something she, herself, was still not used to. Pining for the circus’s clueless AI ringmaster was not part of the plan when she had arrived here. But now…

Jax had also said that Caine had a crush on her. And to be fair, it did seem that way. It was something she couldn’t even deny. She tried, every now and then, to get the truth out of him. Trying to fluster him, to see if his attempts to impress her were all for his own ego or for something more personal. With someone as clueless and friendly as Caine, it had her teetering back and forth between believing he did reciprocate or believing he couldn’t possibly feel that way. But she knew it was stupid of her to get her hopes up. It was stupid of her to fall for an AI to begin with.

She sighed, sitting up from her bed. The digital flower he had given her on their private walk some time ago still laid on one of the letter blocks beside her bed, alongside a drawing Gangle made for her and a butterfly from Kinger’s insect collection he had chosen to give her.

It wasn’t so crazy, was it?

Months ago, she abandoned the others for an exit, but now…

Things were different.

So different that maybe her unexpected friendship with Caine wasn’t unusual.

There was no sense of time in the circus, but Pomni guessed it was time for roll call. She mentally prepared herself for another day of Jax’s teasing and Caine’s goofy, but admittedly endearing, antics, exiting her room and out into the hall—

“POMNI!”

If it weren’t for the door behind her, Pomni surely would have fallen back at the sight of her ringmaster teleporting right in her path, inches away. “AGH! Caine–how many times have I told you not to—”

“I know, my dear. But it’s an emergency!” Caine explained anxiously.

Pomni paused. He never seemed genuinely afraid, unless it was for some gag.“Wha–an emergency? Is everything okay?”

Caine took his hat into his hands, fiddling with the rim. He shook his head. “No! I’m infected, Pomni! The whole circus could be at risk! You have to help me!”

“HUH?” Panic settled into Pomni at the thought of the entire circus, and everyone inside it, being swallowed up and disappearing forever. “O-okay, calm down, Caine. Just… tell me what happened.”

Caine unexpectedly fell to his knees in front of her, placing his gloved hands over his eyes as though he were about to cry. "It’s…it’s…ILOVEYOU!"

Pomni did a double-take, flushing a deep shade of red, nearly not believing what she heard. "Y-you--huh?!"

Caine buried his face in his gloved hands, down on his knees. "The Love Bug, Pomni! I've been infected with the Love Bug! It's going to eat away at me," he wailed, cartoonish tears spilling from behind his hands.

"Oh," Pomni paused as he wailed, looking around as though she was expecting someone else to walk in from the commotion. Once she was sure she was no longer blushing, she cautiously knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder gently. "Um...you're talking about a computer virus?"

"A worm! It's going to spread across the circus, Pomni! I don't know how it got here, I-I must have let it in, I--"

"Caine! Slow down," Pomni interrupted his rambling, "tell me what happened. Why do you think there's a virus?"

"I don't know what it is, dear," Caine confessed, "but I have experienced these strange sensations. Static, glitching perhaps--behaviors that go against my very coding. But most of all, when I'm with you. It’s why I came to you, first. And you’re so clever, I figured you’d know what to do.”

”Me?” Pomni blinked in surprise. She thought on what he said. "Static and glitches?" she repeated, frowning as her thoughts drifted. What the hell would she know about a computer virus?

Caine nodded. "When you talk to me sometimes, dear, I feel static inside of me. Here," he put a gloved hand on his chest, where his heart would be if he had one. "Did you bring a virus in with you? Is that even possible?"

Butterflies settled in her stomach as his words sank in. There was no way he could possibly be confessing—oh, God. Could he even feel the same way? Pomni looked to the side and fiddled with her buttons nervously. “Um…no. It’s not,” she took a deep breath before kneeling down beside him so she was eye-level, voice sounding unexpectedly even despite her sudden nerves. “Tell me more about this…virus. I’m sure we can figure it out,” she gave him a weak smile in the hopes that it was reassuring. She knew deep down she just wanted to know if he really did feel the same, but she ignored it.

Caine nodded in agreement, still sitting sadly on the floor beside Pomni. He placed a finger where his chin would be in thought. “O-okay, dear. Well, let's see. I checked my memories back last night... For instance, in memories where you’d look at me, my system would begin overheating. Or when you touch me, I freeze up. When you compliment me, well,” he laughed sheepishly, “I blue-screen.”

Pomni blushed furiously, her heart speeding up at his unintentional confessions. “Caine-”

“Oh! And when you look especially striking some days, I feel like the ones and zeros of my code are fluttering around. It’s terrifying—I must be falling apart. And I haven’t even mentioned the glitches that happen when I check my memory—”

The fluttering in Pomni’s heart tingled to the tips of her fingers, making kneeling there unbearable. Her face was heating up with every word he said, heart in her throat. “Caine, I..." Pomni bit her lip, unsure how to explain this to an AI, "this doesn't sound like a virus to me. It sounds almost…human…? I guess?”

Caine tilted his head curiously at her. "Humans glitch from the inside out, too?" he said, and peeked out from behind his fingers.

"N-no, it..." Pomni trailed off, cutting herself short with a sigh, "it sounds like...what humans feel," she settled with that explanation for now. It was really very awkward to try and tell an AI ‘it sounds like you have a crush on me’. Not to mention, words were failing her at the realization that he felt just as fond of her as she was of him. And to think, she had been afraid to embarrass herself around him with her crush—

“What they feel..?” Caine tilted his head at her curiously, “like amazement? Wonder? Excitement?”

“Yes, except…” Pomni hesitated. She wasn’t sure if it was worth it to take the leap and just tell him. “…Caine?”

“Yes?”

Pomni reached for her buttons, fidgeting with them mindlessly. “When you say all of these things…what is it that you want?”

“Want?” Caine repeated.

“Yeah, want. Desire. It’s just…humans usually can tell what it is they feel based on what they want,” she explained, although she knew deep down what she hoped his answer was. The thought alone—the word you—it sent such a thrill through her.

Caine placed a finger on his lower jaw, top jaw arching in an exaggerated eyebrow raise. “Hm, excellent question! Well, when you return from my amazing adventures, I want you to come to me. To speak to me. To find me…admirable.”

Pomni nodded. Caine trying to impress her was nothing new. She was well-aware her stubbornness towards the circus resulted in him paying her extra attention, but it didn’t take a genius to know that by now, that was unnecessary. “Okay. So you want my attention, you want me to see positively. What else?”

Caine placed a finger on his chin, an exaggerated arch in his upper jaw as he thought. “Hmm…well, I’m not sensing any patterns. Except for you. Why do you ask?”

Pomni’s heart skipped a beat. Had he actually said what she had been hoping he’d say? Well, not exactly. It seemed like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was feeling in the first place. But who better to teach him than her? She took a deep breath before choosing to brave it. “Caine…I need to explain something to you,” she started.

“Oh, dear, what is it? Are you going to diagnose me with the love bug? With an incurable digital sickness?” Caine pressed his hands together nervously. “Go on. You can tell your favorite ringmaster!”

Pomni took another deep breath to calm her nerves. “Well, the good news is you don’t have a bug. Or a virus. At least, I don’t think so.”

Caine froze in place. “I don’t?”

Pomni shook her head.

“Now, now, don’t be silly, my marionberry muffin! Such frequent glitches aren’t usual for an AI like me,” Caine explained, “how can you be so sure? Are you really a qualified doctor?”

Pomni would probably laugh at his antics if it weren’t for her nerves. “I know because I…I feel the same way,” Pomni admitted, but she couldn’t meet his gaze. It burned a hole right through her.

If Caine had a heart, it would have stuttered in his chest. “You…do?”

Pomni couldn’t form words, so she simply hummed in response. Her face was burning, and she clutched her other arm to curb her trembling hands. “Mhm.”

Caine gaped at her. “You…have the love bug, too?”

“In a way of speaking, yeah.”

“Oh, dear…” he sighed softly, “for who?”

Pomni laughed softly. His obliviousness knew no bounds. She looked at the tiled floor, the butterflies in her stomach unbearable. “W-well, actually, it’s…” she stumbled over her words, blushing to her ears before taking a deep breath and getting enough confidence to meet his eyes. There was no going back now. Her heart sped up, nearly jumping to her throat as she managed the words, “for you."

Caine immediately blue-screened, eyes reading rows of code she couldn’t make out as he processed her words. She flushed at his reaction, slightly self-conscious she misinterpreted his confession. She waved a hand in front of his eyes. “Oh…Caine? Hello…?”

Caine snapped out of it after a few moments. His eyes returned to normal, glancing at Pomni only once before slowly putting a hand over his chest. “Oh, dear. I feel it again,” he said in the quietest voice she’d heard him ever speak in, “the static. Right here. You really—me—?”

Pomni swallowed her nerves, feeling another flutter of butterflies at his response. “I-I know it sounds crazy. I was scared when I realized it. I avoided you. I thought I could run away or deny how I felt, but…the more time I spent with you, the less crazy it seemed,” she explained, meeting his eyes, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done for me, Caine. For everyone. The adventures, expanding the circus, not teleporting me across the map. And at first it made me enjoy being your friend, but now…”

“Now…?” he prompted.

“Now, you’re telling me you have a crush on me,” Pomni finished, “I didn’t think that was possible, but...”

“A crush?” Caine tilted his head curiously. “Is that what it is?”

Pomni watched him carefully. He was still on the floor, hand on his chest and evidently flustered from her confession. It made her heart speed up, seeing how much he cared. How much he wanted her. “Yeah…the ‘love bug’. What Jax said. It’s not an actual bug. Not for humans at least. I thought he was just being an [#$?!]hole, but what you explained to me…it sounds like what humans feel when they want romantic closeness,” she explained before adding nervously, “a-and, the things you described…it’s how I feel for you.”

“Romantic closeness,” Caine echoed, pausing in thought, “my research for my adventures has taught me about human relationships. About…love.”

A rush of heat ran through Pomni’s chest at the word love. “A-and…?”

Caine, in a rare moment of silence, gazed off towards the end of the hall as he thought back on his research. “And…I believe that is what I want, my dear. With you.” His eyes widened at the realization.

A tingle ran down her spine. “You–you do?” Pomni’s breath caught, cheeks flushing at his words.

“If you’ll teach me,” he confirmed, eyes turning back to meet hers.

Pomni’s pinwheel eyes were blown wide, half in a dream as she nodded. She didn’t know what she wanted in that moment. Or even what to say. Months ago, she would have rather jumped in the cellar than imagine herself in a romantic relationship with him. But these past months had changed things in both of them. In the circus itself. And now, she almost wanted to kiss him. Now…

Her breath caught, when she looked and saw the way he was looking at her. His top jaw arched around his gleaming eyes in the most adoring, lovesick gaze she had ever seen. It made her heart beat harder in her chest, feeling the way his gaze pulled at her heart strings. “Oh, my dear. How could I have not realized sooner? It was so obvious…” he sighed.

She smiled slightly at his cluelessness. It was endearing to her. “A lot of humans feel that way, too. I just never thought…” she trailed off, but he already knew what she was going to say.

Caine’s panic instantly lifted, he sprung up from where he had formerly been curled up. "My dear, I am an advanced AI! I've begun experiencing more 'human' sensations since the day I became sentient. But ever since you, ever since our lessons, well, I think I've become more human than I had ever imagined,” he reached for both of her hands.

Pomni reciprocated his touch. "A-and you're advanced enough to desire closeness?"

Caine tilted his head at her. "I've always known what love is, Pomni. How could I not? You humans talk an awful lot about it. But I never imagined a silly AI like myself being capable of such complex feelings. And yet, I’m advanced enough to know that I've been drawn to you for some time..." A hand moved up to stroke her cheek, right by where her blush resided under her right eye, "and I think I'm beginning to understand why."

"Why?"

"Because you confuse my coding, my little shivering shortbread!” Caine piped up, “Isn't that exciting? I’m more advanced than I’d ever imagined!” His feet lifted from the ground, and he nearly twirled in the air from excitement. He looked down at her again, leaning on his cane with a deep sigh. “Oh, Pomni. Are you sure I’m not love sick?”

For the first time that day, Pomni felt more like herself. She reached for his upper jaw, feeling at him as though he had a fever. “Oh, you definitely are.”

Caine melted into her touch. “I am?” he sighed dreamily.

She nodded with a small smile. “Very sick,” she confirmed, flipping her hand around to cup his features in her palm.

“Very sick,” Caine repeated in a daze, then reached a hand up to meet hers, eyes never leaving hers. Small, cartoonish hearts sprung into existence on the right side of his head as he leaned more into her touch. He noticed them and swatted them away rapidly. “A-ah, ignore that. I can’t help it,” he laughed sheepishly.

Pomni laughed gently. “It’s okay. It’s…endearing,” she blushed, still not accustomed to giving him her thoughts of admiration for him.

“O-oh, dear, you’re too kind…” Caine fiddled with his cane slightly before floating down to her level, planting his feet on the ground once more. “But…if I may, I do still have one question.”

A rush of nerves ran through Pomni. Nonetheless, she kept her cool—which was definitely a feat for her. “Yeah? What is it?”

Caine leaned against his cane once more. “Well, when humans tend to confess their true feelings to another, what do they do next?” he asked.

Pomni blinked, the question catching her off-guard. “O-oh, well…” she looked down the hall in thought, wondering where the others were, “it depends, honestly. But a lot of times, they might decide to, um, date.”

“Ah, of course! Allow me,” Caine cleared his non-existent throat before stretching out a hand to her invitingly, “Pomni, you and I should decide to date.”

If it were somehow possible for Pomni to feel any more ecstatic yet simultaneously terrified, she reached that point. His unconventional phrasing caught her off guard for sure, but it was also mildly endearing. “I…yes,” she accepted his hand tentatively, a small smile spreading across her face, “I’d like that.”

Their touch was immediately broken by Caine flying through the air, zipping around Pomni enthusiastically. “Fantastic! Oh, my dear, I’ve never felt so light as air until now!”

Pomni brought a hand to her mouth, laughing at his excitement.

Caine flew down to meet her once more. “Pomni! You and I should embark on our own adventure,” he wrapped an arm around her, outstretching an arm dramatically to the distance as he added, “a human date!”

Pomni laughed again, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t forget you have a whole circus to run, ringmaster,” she teased.

Caine brought a hand to his upper jaw. “Whoopsy-daisy, I almost forgot about the others! My my, you give me a severe case of tunnel vision,” he reached for his cane, preparing to snap himself to the main room before taking one last look at the woman he adored, “I hate to rush the most exciting moment of my never-ending existence, but the show must go on! But, oh, my dear?”

“…Caine?”

Caine tossed his cane between his hands. “How about today, you skip my adventure?”

Pomni blinked in surprise. He never wanted any of his guests to miss his adventures. “Wha—really? Why?”

He flew beside her, holding her hand again. Now that he knew he could hold her hand, he wasn’t sure he’d have it in him to let go for more than a minute. “For our date, of course!” Caine winked at her before continuing sheepishly, “if I may admit, dear…I know what a date is, but I don’t know how to date. There are many things you have to show me.”

A blush rose to Pomni’s cheeks again. “Oh, right,” she stuttered out, then formed a reassuring smile, “i’d love to show you, Caine. Really.” It was just now that she was realizing how intensely her heart had been beating this entire conversation, the trembling seeming to subside now that their true feelings had been revealed.

A couple more hearts fluttered “Of course! What better way to seal our confessions than with a human date? Oh, let’s get this roll call over with, dear. I can’t wait another second!” Caine tightened his grip on her hand.

“You know, you have a lot of energy for someone who’s sick,” Pomni couldn’t help but tease. The more the reality of the situation was settling in, the easier it was for her confidence to return. This artificial man, this AI she had learned to adore, he had truly pined for her all along.

Caine gazed at her adoringly. Oh, my, she was flirting with him, wasn’t she? If she kept going like this, he was going to overheat in front of the others. How lucky was he that this woman adored him as much as he did her? “Why, yes! I’m sick for you.”

“I…don’t think that sounds as romantic as you think it does.”

Caine waved her comment off. “Ah, I’ll perfect the art of flirtation in no time. For now, it’s showtime! And then, a date awaits, my love!”

[deadpanwalking]

Just letting you know the gfm you were working on met it’s goal and now has a new goal set

Yes! I wanted to wait until I got home so I could write something down about why supporting (and continuing to support) families through vetted fundraisers is so important—a lot of people have written compelling and incisive posts about why, but since many of of you have followed me for a while, I wanted to share a bit about my family’s experience and give some perspective that might encourage everyone to keep up the momentum.  

185,000 Soviet Jews came to the United States between the 1970s and the 1990s.  We were a kind of immigrant that’s known as a transmigrant, because we had to immigrate to several different countries before moving to the US permanently; since nobody could go to the US directly from the Soviet Union, we had to do it through a somewhat convoluted process called the Vienna-Rome pipeline. 

My parents waited over ten years for an exit visa and were rejected several times, but were finally permitted to renounce their citizenship and leave Soviet Ukraine in the 1980s—there were three adults (my parents and grandmother) and two children (me and my older brother), all in good health.  Things were a lot more relaxed in the Soviet Union by then, but my father had spent some time in jail for dissidence, so everyone involved in the process of obtaining the visas had to be bribed, and towards the end we were living in an communal apartment with eight other people to save money—that and because my parents were worried the Soviet authorities would find a pretext to arrest my father again (this had happened to our friends).  When we got to the Odessa railway station (early in the morning, without saying goodbye to anybody, just in case), we were each allowed one suitcase, a very small sum of money, and our exit visa paperwork as identification. 

We bought as little as possible on the train ride to Austria and only ate the cured meat my grandmother brought in her bag, but after two Soviet customs checks on the train, we couldn’t afford the tickets to Vienna, which was the entry point to the West, and where the Jewish relief services center was, and had to buy tickets for a station 40 kilometers outside of the city.  When the train arrived, we stayed on board and were very quiet, and the ticket inspector either forgot us or showed us a small mercy by letting us stay. In Vienna, we lived in a migrant center (which, for us, was a hotel repurposed for migrant families) with other Soviet Jewish families while the JDC helped us put together our initial immigration applications to the United States, then made arrangements to get us to Rome so we could wait there for our various documents to get processed and approved, while applying for relief aid that would help us live from day-to-day in the meantime.

That was the most difficult part.  We lived in migrant housing just outside Rome for 11 months. The Jewish relief aid services helped us out with almost everything—housing, groceries, social services, medical expenses—but it still wasn’t enough.  When you have no steady income (and, as a sovereign citizen of nowhere at all, aren’t allowed to work), every expense is prohibitive, every setback is financially devastating. We got by because local churches gave us clothing, local students volunteered to teach us a little Italian—but when I got pneumonia (twice), when my mom needed another pair of dentures, when a translator who said he'd help streamline some paperwork took our money and disappeared, our case worker reached out to help us get sponsor families in America so they could help organize financial assistance (my dad would write to thank them in Russian because his English wasn’t very good, and their Russian friend would translate—we even got to meet one of the families when we moved here, and they’re still our close friends).

It was very fucking rough. By the time we were on the plane to America, I was pulling out my hair from stress, my grandma had developed a heart murmur, and we had almost nothing we brought from Odessa left in those suitcases. 

Now read Bisan’s story.  Or Mohammed’s. Or the stories of countless others. Tell me my family’s journey isn’t a fucking pleasure cruise compared to what they're facing.  We fled political and religious persecution—but we weren’t sick, we weren’t starving, we weren’t being bombed, shot at, tortured, exterminated.  The Jewish orgs helped us so much, but people—those American families and their friends—kept us going when we were waiting for faceless bureaucrats to approve our application to exist.  And it didn’t stop when we got here, either.  So many people kept on helping. They gave us money, time, referrals, opportunities, coached us through the process of getting naturalized.

As a matter of course, I donate to and platform fundraisers that are provided by a local mosque, and I probably won't be doing too many fundraising things like this on Tumblr because I don't (despite appearances) invest as much time and energy here as I do to my offline activism—but I want everyone to understand how important it is to support these families in addition to international relief organizations.

[ollimus-prime]

Hey :) , Loved your jazz hands and might i say that im absolutely obsessed with it. Could i request more? Maybe day in the life / slice of life of being held captive by jazz. Gosh we are just so helpless with him and jazz is special ops lmao. Is it wrong to say id be cool with it? -🐞

Jazz Hands Pt. 2

A/N, not important: Sorry if the characterization is off, I'm still learning. I'm only like, 90 comics in. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: kidnapped, you're basically a pet idk

Words: 1513

Summary: You're stuck with Jazz for now.

Pt. 1

The room was empty. You look around, glancing between the lone slab of metal your kidnapper, ‘Jazz’, slept on and the door. He was gone, really and truly gone. The desk you were left on gave you just enough of a view of the room to be certain, letting you slip nervously off of the pile of rags you now slept on. Hope bloomed in your chest before you angrily stamped it down, not letting yourself get too excited. This was possibly your only chance of leaving this horrid place, and you were not going to let something as pitiful as hope get in your way. No, you needed to be logical about this.

You carefully made your way to the edge of the desk, trying to judge the distance to the floor. The long way down made you feel dizzy, a pit forming in your stomach. The chair was slightly pushed out and, while a worrying distance still far down, was much more inviting than the floor. You try to steele your nerves to jump, working up the courage to take the fall. Sure, it was maybe 8 feet down, but the worst that could happen is you break something. You wince, starting to lose your nerve at the thought.

With carefully curated confidence and determination, you back away from the edge before bolting forwards and throwing yourself towards the chair, trying to keep your body loose as you fall. The fall is short but sickening, your mind reeling as the images of you broken on a chair for the robot who took you to find flashing through your head.

The landing is painful, your legs giving way under you and knocking you to your knees. You let yourself starfish out onto the chair and take deep breaths. Rushing getting up seemed more of a bad idea than the jump itself was. You carefully roll your ankles in a small circle as you lay there, making sure nothing was broken or damaged. Pleased with the results and your resolve growing once more, you push yourself up to inspect the next jump you had to make.

You sigh at the similar height down to the floor, internally wincing at the hard metal you’d be jumping down onto. While the chair was made of a similar material, the floor itself seemed all that more threatening. You steady yourself, getting ready to throw yourself off the next ledge and bolt to freedom. You change your tactic, lowering yourself down and hanging yourself off the edge of the chair instead of jumping straight down. With the height between your feet and the floor now much lower, you let go.

The impact on your legs is much easier to deal with. You smile wide as you merely wobble this time, almost laughing in joy at the realization you were now on the ground. You make your way over to the door, inspecting the gap between the floor. The gap was small, much smaller than anything you could squeeze through. Ideas float through your head as you inspect the door, trying to come up with some way to get out and get away.

The door wasn’t willing to budge no matter how much you tried, and the keypad was much too far above you. Not like you knew the passkey for it anyways. You grit your teeth, kicking the door in frustration. Upon making impact with the door, a loud thud sounds. You freeze, looking at the door in confusion before you hear another one, then another. Panic wells up in you as you try to scramble away from the door as you realize what that sound was. Footsteps. 

Jazz was back.

The door slides open before you’re even close to somewhere you could hide, the surprised rev of his engine your only warning before you’re scooped into his hands. The speed at which he picks you up causes your head to spin. With no time at all, you’re eye-to-visor with him and he looks none too pleased.

“What’re you doing on the floor like that? I could’ve stepped on you!” He scolds, the vibrato of his voice washing over you. The deep sound still scared you. It surprised you how something so completely foreign and inhumane could sound so close to your own native tongue.

You bite down on your cheek in hopes to prevent yourself from retorting. The robot’s engine rumbles in frustration at your silence, his hands shifting so you’re settled in one while the other holds you still. Large fingers start to tousle your hair in the manner of a human to a mouse. 

“Why won’t you just talk to me?” The Porsche mutters in resignation, more to himself than to you. You try to bat away his fingers that seemed to yearn to squeeze the air out of you, the robot’s face contorting into a frown. You refused to engage with the robot in any positive way since you’ve been here, causing his insistence that you’re happy with him to come into question. It’s been nearly a month since he’s had you, and nearly a week since you had refused to even speak to him. It was the only way so far you could ‘fight back’. Especially since he and the others freak out if you skip even a single bite of food.

The ‘bot sighs after a while of you still refusing to respond, his hands cupping under you once more before depositing you onto his shoulder. The temptation to try and jump from his shoulder was quickly squashed with a quick glance down reminding you that you couldn’t make it unscathed. The height from the desk to the ground seemed like child's play now. You ease your way into the small space between where the car’s hood ended and the cables of his neck began, taking careful consideration to stand somewhere you weren’t going to lose a limb if he moved weirdly. The first couple steps made your stomach lurch and your hands cling desperately to the thick cables in hopes you wouldn’t be launched off the shoulder of the metal beast. It was a hated compromise, to cling to the monster that kidnapped you and made you a glorified pet or be dropped from thirty feet, but a necessary one.

The Porsche walks through the halls of the ship he brought you on, greeting the other robots he sees with an easy smile. You weren’t particularly sure where he was going, the ‘bots sure steps tussling you each time. You hated when he carried you like this, yet you weren’t willing to be held in his hands either.

It was a short walk to the room he wanted. The tables were occupied by other bots you didn’t care to find out the names of, garbled speech washing over you. You didn’t usually care to hear what they were saying, their conversations of ‘Decepticons’ and whatever war they spoke of going completely over your head. Nothing here made sense anyways.

The ‘bot under you walks over to the dispenser of their fuel(Energon, as he’d explained one) and draws a cube. The glowing pink liquid was mesmerizing. You were drawn to it in a way, the soft glow easier on your eyes than the harsh lights the rest of the ship had. He starts to drink from his cube-shaped glass while moving away from the dispenser to let others access it too. You stumble slightly as he moves, tensing back up against his neck in hopes to stay upright.

“Jazz,” One of the more robotic voices sounds. You scowl as you look towards the call, hiding further behind Jazz’s neck. The cop-bot stares at your movement as he regards the Porsche, his metal face scrunching up. “Ah. You brought your organic. Of course.”

Jazz’s engine revs slightly at the dig, his hand coming back up to cup around your form. You shrink away in an attempt to escape the new prison, but fail miserably as your space gets noticeably tighter. “Uh-huh. I don’t see the problem.”

“It’s an organic,” Prowl says with heavy judgment in his voice. Jazz sighs, his optic flashing at the tactician.

“They’re called humans, Prowl.”

“Sure,” He dismisses, ignoring the Porsche’s statement. He hands Jazz one of the large tablets the robots used. You zone out of the rest of their conversation, their heavy voices deep enough to go in one ear and out the other. You settle down against Jazz’s neck cables as his hand starts to rub at your head and back again. You kick at his fingers to no avail in an attempt to fight him off. The ‘bot pays no attention to your wants, instead shifting his hand so you can't fight back.

You slump back, bitter and miserable in your new state of life. Daydreams of hopping down heroically from the monster’s shoulder and running to freedom fill your head as you sulk. Maybe you could come up with a plan to finally get you out of here and back home.

Maybe.

[supernova-stardust]

A Habit To Kick (The Age-Old Curse)

Rated M | chapters 1 & 2 live on ao3 | total word count: 14,052 | wip

A few weeks ago, Regulus Black jumped off a bridge. It's not that he really wanted to die, but he didn't really want to live either. He didn't think anyone would care one way or another, if he's honest. Now he's stuck learning how to live.

James Potter was used to seeing Reg every day at the cafe he worked in, until one day he stopped coming in. When he finally sees the guy he's been crushing on come back into the cafe, he knew he had to take his chance at asking him out on a date.

***This fic deals with heavy themes of depression, lack of a will to live, and suicide, but will have a happy ending***

chapter 2 below the break for those who have been reading on Tumblr | 7,889 words

In the morning, Regulus managed to get out of the apartment before either Sirius or Remus stirred. When he glanced into the living room, he noticed that Sirius had abandoned his nest on the couch in favor of squeezing himself onto the tiny air mattress with Remus. Remus didn’t seem to mind, his long body was wrapped around his boyfriend, holding him close.

It wasn’t that Regulus was avoiding them, but going through his routine without being interrupted was a blessing that calmed his nerves. The medications he was on seemed to help a bit, but he didn’t think that there would ever be enough medications or substances to quiet the racing thoughts in his head. The best he had were his routines and his coping mechanisms. 

On his walk towards the cafe, he decided to send Sirius a quick text telling him where he was and that he’d bring him and Remus coffee when he came home. He told himself that it was so that Sirius would know that they had coffee coming, not because he knew his brother would worry himself sick before he thought to check the shared location.

He was hoping that James wouldn’t be the one working today. As much as he was looking forward to their date, he wasn’t sure that he could come up with enough small talk to occupy the man both at the counter and during their dinner. Of course, James was working and he practically bounced out of his skin when he saw Regulus walk through the front door.

There was no line, so Regulus walked right up to the counter where James was smiling. He forced himself to soften his face as he pulled off his headphones and greeted him. "Morning, can I get—"

"Reg," James laughed, stopping Regulus from ordering his coffee. "I know how you like your coffee by now. Good morning, how are you?" He turned to pour the coffee, oblivious to the fact that he left Regulus standing at the counter a little breathless and thrown off kilter. 

"Of course you do, I-I just didn’t want to assume." Regulus tried to make sure he sounded confident, but he wasn’t sure how successful he really was. "I’m fine, how are you?"

"Excited." James returned with coffee in hand and placed it gently on the counter in front of him. "I’m looking forward to our date tonight."

This time, the smile Regulus gave him was genuine and automatic. "I am too." He passed James a handful of bills and grabbed his coffee before heading to his regular seat.

Regulus was surprised to find that he was able to focus on writing much longer this morning than he had in a long time. Instead of staring at the screen wallowing at the fact that no words came to him, he was able to write a few pages as the cafe got busier throughout the morning. When someone sat at his table, he was almost able to ignore them with his headphones blocking out the sounds around him and his face buried in his laptop. It wasn’t until he felt a sharp kick to his shin that he even glanced up from his laptop, glaring as he ripped his headphones off his ears. 

"Hey—" Immediately, his face softened at the man sitting across from him. "Oh, hey Evan."

"Oh, hey Evan. Are you fucking kidding me?" He kicked Regulus again, this time with more malice. "You act weird for a week, send me some cryptic goodbye text, and disappear for weeks. I had to find out from your brother what happened. You've been silent in the group chat. And all I get is oh, hey Evan."

"To be fair, Sirius told me he updated you, so I figured you weren’t worried anymore."

"Of course I was fucking worried. You’re my best friend." Evan looked at him with so much sadness in his eyes that it made Regulus squirm under his gaze. "I’m still worried. Barty says I shouldn’t be, that they wouldn’t have discharged you if you weren’t okay, but I know you. I know you know how to manipulate them into thinking you’re fine. You know how to make all of us think you’re fine when you’re really not."

"Barty is right,” Regulus replied, choosing to ignore the rest of what Evan said. “I’m fine."

"See, that actually makes me think that you’re the exact opposite of fine. Barty is never right and you’re always the first one to say it."

Regulus laughed at that. "Okay, okay. Fine. I’m stable, how’s that for an answer?"

"Now that, I’ll actually believe." Evan said as he raked his dark fingers through his platinum curls. "Did your life experiences give you any inspiration for your book?"

And just like that, Regulus was forgiven and all was back to normal with his best friend. He knew things between them would be fine, even after that first night in the hospital. In fact, the only thing that he didn’t have anxiety about was whether or not Evan would forgive him. He had stressed about everything and everyone else, even what Barty thought about him consumed Regulus’ thoughts for a time, but he knew Evan would always accept him no matter what. Despite his attempts at avoiding him all throughout their college years, every year they ended up being dorm roommates again. Later, Evan would admit that he had requested to be roomed with Regulus because he loved having such a quiet and tidy roommate. But eventually they grew attached to one another, able to communicate non-verbally in ways that he had never been able to with anyone other than his own brother. They respected one another and as time went on, their respect blossomed into a friendship that was unshakable. When Regulus had returned to their dorm after Sirius showed up in his life again, Evan was the one who convinced him to trust that his brother wanted to be a part of his life. Evan was the one who saw him sob uncontrollably over his brother and their lost time together, never once judging him. Evan was always the one who could get through to Regulus, no matter how mentally unstable he had become.

When Evan had started dating Barty, Regulus had thought that Evan was the crazy one. Barty was known on campus as a party animal–loud, unhinged, and untamed. They had met at a party that Evan insisted Regulus attend with him. Barty had offered them some pills, which they both swallowed without even questioning. They drank a series of shots together, and the three of them had become inseparable since then. Surprisingly, Barty was often the voice of reason among their little group. Despite his poor short term decision making skills—evidenced by the stick-and-poke tattoos that littered his body and the drugs often coursing through his veins—Barty was relatively level-headed. He could look at things in calculated ways that neither Regulus nor Evan ever could, balancing the weight of risk involved in everything that they did. Regulus’ anxieties often clouded his decisions, always assuming the worst outcome, and Evan simply didn’t care to think that far ahead, preferring to live in the moment and practice the mindfulness that he’d learned in his years of yoga. In a strange way, Barty and Evan seemed to have always been made for each other, and over the years Regulus shifted from feeling envious of their easy love to feeling relief that they had each other and still kept him close, never making him feel like a third-wheel or a burden.

"You know, jumping off a bridge does have its perks," Regulus said dryly. "I have been feeling inspired to write my novel again. It’s like a fresh start."

"Oh, fuck off. Your novel is a murder mystery, not some prose about the meaning of life."

"Yeah, and now I know what it feels like to nearly drown. I’m thinking of changing the entire method of murder now." Regulus sipped at his coffee as Evan balked at him, clearly unsure if Regulus was joking or not. "In other news, I have a date tonight."

"Show me his profile." Evan didn’t miss a beat at the subject change and held out his hand expectantly for Regulus’ phone. "You may say that you’re mentally stable, but I know your taste in men sucks regardless of your mental state."

This time, it was Regulus’ turn to kick his friend’s shin. "I do not. Besides, I can’t show you his profile because we didn’t meet online." His eyes flitted over to James involuntarily. He was hoping that Evan missed the movement, but of course he didn’t. Evan turned and followed his gaze to James who was behind the counter, completely engrossed in making a customer’s drink.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Evan asked a little too loudly, drawing eyes from around the cafe towards their table. James’ head lifted from where he was working and followed the sound to look between the two of them, a burning question in his eyes. Regulus mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ towards him and scowled at his friend.

"The whole cafe doesn’t need to know," Regulus said under his breath as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table on either side of his laptop. He let out a heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair and then cradled his head in one hand as he watched James get back to work. "He asked me out yesterday and I said yes."

"Does he know?" Evan asked in a low voice meant for only the two of them.

"Does he know what? There’s a lot of baggage to unpack here, Ev, you’re gonna have to be a little more specific."

"Does he know you were hospitalized? Or…any of the other shit, I guess."

"No," Regulus answered simply as he sat back and closed his laptop. "I don’t think he needs to, it’s just a date."

"Reg, you’ve liked him for years. Literally I’ve listened to you lament about how beautiful that guy is for hours of my life. We both know it’s not just a date."

Regulus sipped at his coffee again before he answered. He didn’t want to admit that Evan was right, this wasn’t just a date to him. But he figured it was probably just a date to James and so he had to adjust his expectations. "It’s just a date. A first date. He doesn’t want me to bare my fucking soul before we’ve even slept together. I’m keeping my expectations low."

"I mean, he could actually care about you, you know," Evan rebutted.

"I barely know the guy. He’s just pretty. That’s it. He’ll take me on a date and realize how boring I am, we’ll have sex, and things will go back to normal. He’ll make me coffee, I’ll annoy you and Barty over how attached I am to a guy I barely know, life goes on."

"Oh, don’t do that. We both know it’ll just lead to heartbreak."

"It can't lead to heartbreak if I don't open my heart to him."

Evan hummed as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I still think you should tell him."

"Nothing sets the mood like telling a guy you tried to kill yourself a few weeks ago." Regulus rolled his eyes. "I’m not telling him. He won’t even like me, there’s no point."

"Reg, you’ve been coming here for years. I’m pretty sure he knows you enough to like you, at least a little bit. You should tell him. I think he’d want to know, if anything at least let the guy know what he’s getting himself into if he decides to take you out on a second date. You’re a great guy, amazing even, anyone would be lucky to call you theirs, but if he’s gonna seriously pursue you he should know what he’s getting himself into. It’s only fair."

"Fine. But I’m only agreeing because I know it won’t go that far."

Evan laughed and looked at him fondly. "I missed you. I’m glad you’re still here."

"I missed you too," Regulus replied with a soft smile. He couldn’t say he was glad to still be alive, at least not honestly, but he hoped that eventually he could say that he was. 

***

"I brought you both coffee," Regulus said as he came through the front door. He pushed the door closed with his hip and made his way into the living room where Sirius was scrambling off of Remus’ lap with a look of embarrassment on his face. "Don’t you dare have sex in my apartment."

Remus just gave him a wolfish smile in response.

"I shouldn’t have brought you guys coffee," Regulus sighed as he set the to-go cups down on the coffee table. 

"You shouldn’t have left us to our own devices for so long," Sirius snipped back as he grabbed one of the cups. "You know I’m a restless person, Reggie. I need to get my energy out somehow."

"Disgusting, never talk to me again."

Secretly, Regulus would always be happy that Sirius and Remus were so good together. His brother deserved someone as patient and kind as Remus was. Neither of their parents had ever offered any sort of softness to them while growing up and while Regulus had grown to be closed off and avoidant of physical touch, Sirius craved tactile reminders of love and comfort. To this day, Sirius was the only person that Regulus allowed to pull him into casual hugs. None of that meant that he was okay with finding his brother and his boyfriend having sex on his couch though.

"So," Sirius said as he watched Regulus pick up the blankets off the floor and meticulously fold them. "What’s your plan for the day?"

"I was thinking that I'd keep working on my novel until I have to get ready for my date. I also have to call the therapists’ office that the receptionist recommended to me at some point. I need to get on the schedule there soon. I was reading the reviews last night and they seemed halfway decent, at least. We’ll see. Might keep looking depending on how the appointment goes."

"That’s good. It might take a bit to find the right match. Hopefully the group therapy will be a little better than Slughorn in the meantime," Sirius said in a tone that was intended to sound casual, but Regulus knew wasn’t at all.

"I can see if my therapist's office has any openings, if you want?" Remus suggested. "I’ve been going there for years."

Regulus finished folding the blankets and sat in an armchair next to the couch. "I appreciate that, but wouldn’t it be weird to see the same therapist?"

"Well, yeah, but there’s a lot of other people in her practice. The office I go to specializes in queer issues, so it’s a little different from the average therapy office." Remus shrugged. "It’s nice to see someone who I’m not worried about having secret homophobic biases, even if my issues are mundane things like work-life balance."

"Yeah, which is bullshit," Sirius whined. "I keep telling you to quit that job. You hate it and I have plenty of money to keep us comfortable without you working."

"And I keep telling you, I like having something that gives me purpose. This isn’t the time to have this conversation, love. Let’s talk about it later. I just wanted Regulus to know that there’s options, that’s all."

"Yeah, I’m not touching this," Regulus waved his hand at the two of them, "with a ten-foot pole. I’m gonna go write." He got up, grabbed the bag that he had discarded at the doorway, and headed to his room. 

***

"He already knows what you look like, you know," Sirius laughed.

"I know, fuck off."

Regulus had spent the last hour getting ready and he still wasn’t happy. He felt like he had tried on every combination of his clothes in his closet and at this point. Pulling his shirts on and off had made him hot and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He groaned loudly and laid back on his bed, shirtless and annoyed.

He heard someone walking down the hall and his suspicions were confirmed that it was Sirius when he looked up to see his brother leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. "You know, he’s gonna like you no matter what you wear."

"What time is it? I feel like I need to shower again." He tried to huff a burst of air from his lungs to move the hair off of his forehead, but he was so sweaty that it did nothing.

"You’re kidding me, right?" Sirius pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time. "Reggie, you’ve only got thirty minutes until he gets here."

"I’m showering again." He pushed himself off the bed and past Sirius who just gaped at him in the hallway. He made his way to the living room. "Remus, will you pick out a shirt that matches these pants? I want to look hot, but not unobtainable." Wearing nothing but his favorite pair of black jeans, he did a spin in the middle of the room for Remus.

Remus gave him a mock salute as he stood from the couch and Regulus headed into the bathroom to shower the sweat off his body.

"Why does Remus get to pick your shirt? We all know that I have better style than him," Sirius asked from just outside the bathroom door.

"I have style," Remus rebutted. 

"Sorry, love. I always think you’re adorable, but wearing over-sized sweaters is not a sense of style."

"Remus picks because he’s not my brother and I don’t want to think about how you picked out my shirt if I get laid."

"Disgusting."

"At least you won’t have to walk in on it like I almost did today. Can I shower in peace?"

"Fine, you have twenty five minutes if he shows up on time."

James showed up five minutes early.

Regulus was fluffing his hair one last time–very impressed with himself for getting his curls to sit in that perfectly undone way that he always loved–when he heard the doorbell ring. Sirius laughed and he heard Remus tell him to behave. Regulus looked himself over in the mirror again before deciding to grab his eyeliner and smudge a bit under his eyes. 

"Can you let him in?" he yelled from the bathroom. "And don’t scare him, please. I’ll be ready in a minute."

Remus ended up suggesting he wear a simple black tee and while Sirius might have said that Remus didn’t have a sense of style, Regulus thought that the simplicity allowed his accessories to shine. He tucked his shirt in loosely, wore a silver-buckled belt, and put on all of his favorite rings. The finishing touch was his favorite necklace, shaped like a dagger, that dropped between his pecs. He did one final look-over in the mirror before deciding that this was as good as it was going to get and ambled his way into the living room. 

"Reggie, look who’s here. And he brought me flowers." Sirius batted his eyes as he fell back onto the couch and curled up into Remus’ body. Remus lightly smacked Sirius’ leg in an attempt to make him shut up.

"Uh. N-no, I brought these for you." James held out a small bouquet of flowers towards Regulus as soon as he entered the living room. "Sorry, is this too much? It seemed like a good idea at the time and now I’m not sure if—"

"They’re lovely, thank you," Regulus interrupted with a soft smile in an attempt to save James from rambling in front of his brother. "Let me put them in some water real quick and then we can go?" He reached out to take the flowers and smelled them before he walked into the kitchen to find a vase. 

"Ignore Sirius," he heard Remus say as he left the room. "He lives for making people squirm. I’m Remus, by the way. Sirius’ boyfriend."

Regulus stopped listening to their conversation as he methodically cut the stems of the flowers, filled the vase with water, and meticulously arranged each stem so they were sitting perfectly. He placed the arrangement on his counter near the window and stepped back to admire them before he returned to the living room. He had never been given flowers before and quite frankly, he always thought it was a trite tradition rooted in compulsory heterosexual norms, but now that he had received them from James? Now he understood why it was so…sweet. Sirius may have said that he hated sweet, but Regulus was finding that he was already loving every moment. 

Evan was right, Regulus really was way too deep in his feelings for James already.

"Reggie, text me if you’re not coming home, yeah?" Sirius asked in a tone that carried far too much weight for such a simple request.

He tried hard not to blush at the implication, but he still felt his cheeks heat before he nodded. "Let’s go," he said as he grabbed James’ hand and led him into the hallway. He shoved his oxfords on as quickly as possible and the two of them walked out of the apartment together towards James’ car. 

James drove an old Toyota that probably wished it could be retired at a junkyard, but Regulus could tell it was well taken care of, regardless of age. 

When they got in the car, James turned the keys and rubbed the back of his neck. Regulus was learning that this was a nervous habit of his. "Sorry, there’s really no creature comforts in this thing, but she’s reliable." He fiddled with the radio until he found a classic rock station and made sure it was turned down low enough where they could hold a conversation without raising their voices.

"It’s fine, James. I don’t even own a car, you don’t need to impress me."

"I may not need to impress you, but I’d like to."

Regulus hummed at that and they fell into a comfortable silence as James drove. It was a few minutes before James began rambling, nervously filling the space between them with his voice. 

"You and your brother seem close. I don’t have any siblings, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone who’s known me from birth. Is he always like that? I’ve met him before at Galactic— he thought I was hitting on him and I swear I wasn't."

"Yeah, he’s always like that," Regulus sighed. "He mostly does it to fuck with people though, don’t take it personally. Having a brother is like that."

"Like what?" James asked.

"Constantly having someone giving you a hard time. He can’t help himself. I’ve always said he needed another brother who could keep up with his bullshit."

"I’m sure you keep up with his bullshit, Reggie."

"Don’t call me that."

"Sorry, I—"

"Sirius is the only person who can call me that," Regulus interrupted before James could finish explaining himself. "Even then, I hate it. I just got sick of telling him he couldn’t anymore. He calls me it more when I tell him to stop." Really, he loved that his brother had a special nickname just between the two of them. He wouldn’t let anyone else use it because it was sacred between them. He would never, ever, admit it to Sirius though. 

The silence that hung between them was anything but comfortable this time. Regulus felt self conscious about his outburst and it seemed as though James was afraid to break the silence himself. He wasn't sure if it was because James was afraid to say something wrong, but Regulus mentally kicked himself for having such a strong reaction to being called a simple nickname. He looked out the window as James drove, trying to discern where it was that they were going.

He heard James take in a breath as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Look," he finally said. "Can we just… start over? I feel like I'm fucking this all up. I wasn't expecting to meet your brother and his boyfriend tonight and if I'm honest, it kind of threw me off my game."

"Your… game?"

"Yeah, like… fuck." James let out a shaky breath and when Regulus glanced over, he noticed that his brows were knit together in frustration. "I just had a whole idea in my head of how I'd greet you and when it wasn't you who answered the door, it threw me off. I practiced handing you the flowers and everything. And your brother is just— He's a lot."

"My brother is a menace, it's okay, you can say so."

"Well, he seems fun at least."

"Am I not fun enough for you, James?" Regulus asked, his voice laced with sugar sweet sarcasm.

"N-no that's not what I—"

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you." Regulus smoothed his hand on James' thigh while he continued driving them into an area of the city that he wasn't familiar with. "So, where exactly are we going?" he asked in an attempt to break the awkward tension between them.

"There's a place not too far from here that I've never been to, but the reviews are pretty good. Dolce Vita, have you been?"

"You're bringing me somewhere you've never been?" Regulus asked incredulously. "What if it's awful?"

"Then we can have a good laugh about it and go get McDonald's."

Regulus wrinkled his nose at that. "I'll take bad Italian food over McDonald's any day."

"Oh, don't tell me you don't indulge in a burger after a night of drinking now and then?" James glanced over at him with mock horror, bringing his hand to his chest.

"I really don't." There weren't many things that Regulus had held onto from his childhood, but the way he ate was definitely one of those things. He was meticulous about everything he put into his body—besides the drugs that Barty shared and the alcohol he took them with.

James hummed and brought a hand down to brush his fingers along the hand Regulus still kept on his thigh. He laced their fingers together and glanced over. "Is this okay?"

Regulus nodded before realizing that James was still driving and probably couldn't read his body language. "Yeah. This is nice."

The car ride continued with little conversation, but the silence that settled between them was comforting in a way. James' thumb rubbed soothing circles along Regulus' wrist and for once, Regulus didn't feel the compulsion to pull away. It almost felt…right. Like Regulus had been made to be putty in James' hands.

When James parked the car, Regulus watched the muscles in his hand flex as he effortlessly pulled into the parking spot using one hand. He caught himself imagining those hands roving over his body and holding him down before he was pulled from his thoughts by James bringing his hand to his lips. He placed a brief peck on the back of Regulus' hand before letting go so he could shift the car into park. Then, he turned off the ignition and grabbed his keys as he turned to smile at Regulus.

"Ready?" James asked, oblivious to the direction of Regulus' thoughts. He nodded in response and they headed into the restaurant together.

The restaurant was more quaint than Regulus had imagined, but he found he was grateful for the dim lighting and cozy booths all the same. He slid into the seat across from James and looked over at him, taking in the way his warm honey eyes seemed to become even more rich in the lighting.

James grabbed the wine menu and held it towards the middle of the table, scanning through the different options. "Do you like red or white wine?"

"Um…" Regulus didn't know how to tell James that he couldn't drink while he adjusted to his medications. Suddenly, he felt like he should have put off going on this date for at least another month, but how would he have explained that? Oh, yeah, I'd love to go out, but let's wait a bit? No, I don't have any plans—I never have plans— I just need to make sure my brain is all balanced before anything happens between us.

What a joke.

"It's okay if you don't drink, I won't either." James said, saving Regulus from having to answer as he placed the drink menu down on the table. "A friend of mine is an alcoholic, I should have known better than to assume."

"I'm not— I do usually drink." Regulus let out a breath and took a moment before carefully choosing his words. "I'm just taking a bit of a break right now for my health."

"Cool, I didn't realize you were so health conscious. You're gonna make me want to take care of myself better too."

Regulus let out a real, genuine laugh. The idea of him being health conscious was honestly the funniest joke he had heard in a long time. "I think if the tone of your muscles says anything, you're plenty health conscious."

"You've looked at my muscles?" James asked with a knowing smirk.

"Who hasn't?"

"Lesbians, probably. I'll have to ask Lils if she's noticed how fit I am next time I see her."

"Lils? Is she your friend?" Regulus asked. This was the first time James had mentioned anyone in his life and he wanted to capitalize on the opportunity to learn everything he could about the man across from him.

"Lily— Yeah, one of my best friends. Her and I grew up together. Certified earthy crunchy lesbian, through and through. Don't tell her about anything you do for your health when you meet her because she will not shut up about a natural alternative."

"You want me to meet your best friend?" Regulus could hear the disbelief lacing his own voice.

"I mean, sure. If this continues to go well." James shrugged before continuing as if this was no big deal. "Meeting each other's friends is important if we keep dating, yeah? Besides, I've already met your brother and his boyfriend. Lily is the closest I've got to a sister. Do you know what I mean? I mean— I know you have an actual brother, but do you have any friends that know you like a sibling?"

"Evan." Regulus answered immediately, ignoring the rest of James' rambling. "He's got a boyfriend, Barty, who I'm close with too. But Evan and I were roommates all through college."

James hummed in acknowledgment. Their conversation paused as the server came and took their orders.

"What was your major?" James asked, picking up the conversation where they left off once the server left their table.

"Don't laugh."

James crossed his heart in a silent promise.

"I double majored in English and Journalism." Regulus answered, bracing himself for the teasing that always came after he answered this question. "I'm an author. Well, kind of. Haven't published anything yet, so I'm not sure I get to call myself an author, but maybe some day."

"Is that what you do every morning at the cafe? Work on writing a book?"

Regulus nodded.

"What's the one you're working on right now about?"

"Murder," Regulus answered plainly.

"What?" James sputtered.

"I mostly write murder mysteries. I haven't quite figured out the whole thing, but I think in this one the murder will have been committed by the narrator and the reader won't realize it until the very end. If I deceive the reader enough with an unreliable narrator, that is." This was the first time Regulus had felt like he could tell someone about the plot of a story he had been working on before he had finalized any of the plot points. He was surprised to hear himself say the words, but as their conversation went on he was finding himself more comfortable with James by the moment.

"You're allowed to call yourself an author, Reg. You don't need to write daily or publish anything to prove that you're an author."

Regulus furrowed his brow and changed the subject, unsure of how to respond to the wisdom James had to offer. "What about you? Did you go to college?"

"I'm literally a barista."

"That doesn't mean you didn't get a degree. Lots of people don't get to use their degrees and get stuck doing things they don't want to do."

"Fair, but no." James chuckled. "I've taken quite a few classes, both at university and at independent art studios, but I haven't found anything that sticks. I do like working as a barista though. The pay is good and it leaves me with enough time to take different classes and figure out what it is that I want to do with myself. I've always been one of those people who switches between hobbies at the drop of a hat. Lately, I've been really into ceramics."

"Ceramics? Impressive."

"Sounds like it, but no. I'm not very good. Still fun though, that's what counts."

Regulus smiled softly at that. "I've never been able to do anything just for… fun."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I've always had to be great for it to be worth spending my time doing. If I wasn't, I moved on."

"But how do you know if you can become great at something if you don't spend the time to find out?" James challenged gently.

Regulus didn't have an answer to that. Their conversation lulled a bit and he found himself grateful that the server had returned with their food. They both quietly dug into their dishes and while Regulus had joked earlier about the possibility of it being terrible, everything on his plate was flavorful and cooked to perfection.

"So, I have to ask…" James trailed off, blushing slightly as he steeled himself to ask whatever was bouncing around in his head.

"I may or may not answer," Regulus deadpanned as he cut into his food.

James smiled at that. "Of course, and you don't have to, I just… I wondered what your brother meant when he asked you to let him know if you'd be home or not."

Regulus raised an eyebrow as he looked up into James' eyes. "Surely you can use your context clues to figure that one out?" he said, intentionally shifting the focus to the implication of them hooking up. He didn't want to admit to James that what Sirius was truly asking was if he had to worry about whether his brother was alive or not.

Evan was going to have a field day with how many times Regulus could have told James about his hospitalization and simply… avoided it.

"I mean, sure, but— What did you tell him you'd expect out of a first date with me?"

"James, I'm going to be very honest with you, okay? I don't date. I have men that I see one time, we hook up, and I never hear from them again."

James blanched at this. "What? Why?"

"It's too… Complicated. Messy. I'd rather just get what I need from them and move on." Regulus shrugged and continued to cut into his food as if he hadn't said the most devastating thing to the man across from him. He never admitted it in therapy, but the loneliness that had taken over his every waking thought before his attempt partially stemmed from his inability to find romantic connections with people. He knew that romantic love wasn't something that everyone needed, and that he shouldn't have based his entire self-worth upon the idea of being loved by someone, but he did. He wanted to be loved so much that it consumed him.

"So, what do you need from me?" James asked.

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"I don't know. I've never done this before. I've never let someone pick me up at my home, no one's ever brought me flowers. This isn't how I normally operate. But how I normally operate isn't working anymore and you're so… sweet. You asked me out and I said yes and now we're here and I don't know what to do or how to behave, but I'm trying."

"Reg, I—"

"Please don't make this weird, I can't do weird."

"No, that's not… I just can't believe no one has ever wanted to treat you the way you deserve."

Regulus paused at that, unsure of how to respond. "Maybe I just never gave anyone the chance."

"Well," James gave him a sad smile. "I'm glad you're giving me the chance. But I think since you gave me a bit of honesty, you deserve a bit of mine too. I don't do hook-ups. I don't sleep with someone on the first date. And to be fully transparent, I've never dated a man before."

"Are you sure you're…?"

"Oh, I'm very sure." James laughed. "I just never felt connected with a man before in a way that made me comfortable enough to continue anything more than a date or two. And quite frankly, most of them wanted to move much faster than I felt comfortable with."

"Fair enough." They continued eating in silence. Regulus wasn't sure that there was any tension growing between them, but he was fast learning that James was more of the type to ramble than sit in silence if he was nervous, and so the quiet made him uneasy. He cleared his throat before he spoke again. "I hope you don't take offense to me asking. I just don't want to be someone's experiment only for them to find out it was simply a curiosity they've sated. But I'm open to moving slow. I can follow your lead."

"No offense taken. I'm just relieved to have these conversations and not have you freak out."

"Why would I be the one to freak out? You're the one with morals here. I'm the degenerate slut. You should be the one freaking out and leaving me to pay the bill."

James faked a gasp, clutching his imaginary pearls. "Why, Regulus, I would never dream of such a thing. Besides," his smirk became downright sinful as he brought his face close to Regulus', "I never said I wasn't a degenerate slut too." He sat back and leaned into his chair, raking his eyes over Regulus. "I just take a little longer to build enough connection to feel that way about someone."

"You are such a flirt for someone who doesn't fuck on a first date."

Of course, it would be Regulus' luck that the server would come with the check at that exact moment. The knowing smirk on their face was mortifying.

James started to pull out his wallet before Regulus tried to stop him. "Please, let me pay? You've been so sweet, I insist." Regulus said, pulling out his own wallet and digging for his card.

"I asked you out," James answered as he counted cash and placed it in the check holder. "I'll pay. You can plan and pay for the next date."

"Yeah? You want to go out again?" Regulus felt his heart beating far too fast at the idea of seeing James again.

James nodded, "I hope you feel the same?" His voice wavered. Regulus wasn't sure if it was because he was unsure of himself or of the situation, but he vowed to make sure that James always knew how wanted he was from here on out.

"I'd love to," Regulus answered with sincerity.

"Great," James beamed. "Let's get you home, yeah? Then Sirius can't say that anything nefarious happened while I was with you."

The drive back to his apartment was uneventful. They held hands and sneaked glances at each other. Occasionally, James would hum along to a song on the radio—a trait that Regulus decided was endearing. When they pulled up to his apartment, Regulus looked around and didn't see Sirius' car anywhere in the lot.

"Strange," he said. "I didn't think they were going out tonight."

"Did he text you at all?" James asked.

Regulus pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked for any missed calls or texts. There were a few from his group chat with his friends and upon a quick glance, he realized that they were all talking about his date tonight. For a moment, he wondered how they knew, and then he realized—Evan. He would have told Barty and Barty didn't know how to keep his mouth shut, especially when the potential of Regulus getting laid was up for discussion. He continued to sift through the notifications, but none were from Sirius.

"I didn't get a text or anything. They must have needed to go grab something quickly from the store or something." Regulus shrugged. "Want to come in?"

James quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Not— Sorry, I'm not trying…I-I mean if you wanted…" Regulus let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I don't know how to do this. I had pure, innocent thoughts, I swear."

James tried his best to hold a straight face before he burst out laughing. "Oh, Reg. You're so cute when you squirm." He lifted Regulus' hand to his lips and kissed the back of his hand. "I knew what you meant, and yeah, I'd love to. It would be nice to see your place without being terrified of your brother."

"You're an asshole," Regulus pouted.

"Yeah, but you like it."

Regulus hummed playfully. "Time will tell."

As Regulus unlocked his door, he had a sudden feeling of insecurity sweep over him about his apartment. Sure, it was tidy and everything had it's perfect home, but he also filled his space with things. He had always kept so many things, to the point that Sirius would remind him that they weren't broke. But it wasn't about that. He kept anything that brought him any semblance of joy. And so his space was all plush blankets and soft pillows, tchotchkes from vacations lining his bookshelves, and of course, books. Lots and lots of books that took up every available surface. Suddenly, bringing James into his home felt extremely vulnerable.

He turned on a lamp—a small one in the entryway because he never, ever turned on 'the big light'—and turned towards James only to find him much closer than he expected. James took another step closer, invading his personal space, and looked down at him. The soft yellow from the lamp made his tan skin radiate a warm glow and Regulus' breath hitched as he took in the beauty of the man in front of him. James lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind Regulus' ear and cupped his jaw with the palm of his hand, tipping Regulus' face upwards.

"You're so beautiful, Regulus." James said. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please kiss me, James."

James' grip on his jaw tightened infinitesimally for a brief moment, but Regulus' nerves were on overdrive. He leaned into it, resisting the urge to moan at the thought of those fingers gripping him harder. James' pupils widened at the subtle movement. It felt as though they were both walking a fine line between what they wanted to do and what they should do. Losing all sense of patience, Regulus pushed himself to the balls of his feet and brushed his lips against James'.

They were both tentative at first, unsure of themselves, but then James buried a hand in Regulus' hair and suddenly he felt nothing but desire and need. Regulus' hands found James' waist and he pulled him in closer, afraid that if he let go then this would prove to have never been real. Their kisses became more urgent, hungry for each other in a way that Regulus had never experienced. He felt as though the void of loneliness was being filled with each kiss they exchanged and if he hadn't felt how fast James' heart was pounding against his chest, that would terrify him. Instead of pulling away as he normally would, he pulled closer, wanting nothing more than to be able to crawl into James and never be apart.

And then Regulus heard a throat being cleared.

James pulled away and looked over his shoulder at the intruder. The movement allowed Regulus a view of the open door and his brother standing with his arms crossed looking rather vexed.

"Fuck off," Regulus said.

"Me? I'm not the one getting railed in the hallway. This is a public space you know," Sirius said with mock horror.

"We were only kissing. And this isn't a public space, this is my apartment. Just mine. You're not even on the lease. So, fuck off."

"To be fair," Remus said as he pushed Sirius all the way through the door so he could close it behind himself. "We're staying here for another couple of weeks. Maybe we can just all be considerate of each other in the meantime, yeah?"

James' brows pinched together but he didn't ask the question that was clearly on his mind. Regulus was thankful for that, at least.

"Yeah, Reggie. Let's all be considerate. You said we couldn't have sex in the apartment. You can't either." Sirius said as he kicked off his boots and hung up his jacket.

At that, Regulus analyzed his brother a bit more closely. His hair was a mess and his clothes were rumpled in a way that didn't speak of simply being worn. "Is that why you were gone? Did you two seriously just go off to have sex and come back?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to, baby brother," Sirius sing-songed.

"Gross." Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust.

"Okay, well, on that note," James said. "I had a wonderful time, I'll text you, okay?"

Regulus nodded. "Yeah, sounds perfect." He hesitated for a moment before deciding to lean in to give James one last kiss before he left. "I had a nice time too," he murmured, offering James a small smile meant just for him.

After James left, the three of them stood together steeping in silence in the entryway. Regulus glared at his brother while Remus looked at Sirius with amused affection.

"Well, James seems nice." Remus said in an attempt to break the awkward silence between them all.

Sirius laughed. "James seems like—"

"Shut up." Regulus interrupted. "Don't talk about him, you don't know him."

"We've all known plenty like him." Sirius rebutted.

"Love, maybe you should ask how the date went instead?" Remus offered.

"We all saw how it was going." Sirius said.

A rage that Regulus couldn't place took hold of him at that. James wasn't like that—he was the only guy that he had ever gone out with who wasn't like that—and maybe his brother was feeling particularly protective right now, but he didn't have the patience for it. He shoved at his brother, sending him stumbling back into Remus, who swayed a bit at the impact.

"I hate you," Regulus seethed. "Goodnight."

[wuucchoo]

Jujutsu kaisen: the good and the bad

Hello!!! I'm out here making essays about jujutsu kaisen once again! And this is most likely the last one I'll make on it :3

((This is a (almost) 4k word rant, read at your own risk >:3))

So, the manga ended - and as far as I can tell, people’s opinions on it are pretty much divided. I personally found it extremely unsatisfying for many reasons, but I'll start with the ‘good’ things first.

THE GOOD

Jjk is a story that's a battle of ideals as much as it is a battle of techniques and fists. And, based on my understanding, the ending that gege chose to go for is the one where no one was actually proven right or wrong. Everyone's ideals and way of life remained the same from the beginning of the story to the end. 

Yuji, who's ideal is to save people as much as he can, was able to do that to the very end. Yes, there were hiccups - like the moment where Megumi had to remind him what his ideal was when he almost gave up after the Shibuya incident, but he got back on track right after he heard what Megumi had to say. And so he remained the person he was from the start by helping Megumi and also trying to help sukuna too. His character is pretty straightforward so it's very easy to understand it.

Sukuna, whose way of life and ideal is to live for himself in whatever way he wanted to, did just that to the very end. He refused yuji's offer because he'd rather die than live on someone else's terms. And in the afterlife he only considered trying a different path if there's a next life where his options would possibly be different than what he had in the life he knew. A possibility of a different life, a different path - yet still on his own terms, like he always did. He didn't regret the way of life he chose, he lived the only way he knew how based on the options presented to him in that life. And if there is a next life, he wouldn't mind trying out another path depending on what his supposed next life would have in store for him - as long as he does it on his own terms, and not living through what someone else's version of happiness was. He remained steadfast with his belief and ideal until the very end.

And megumi! I have a lot to say about him so brace yourself to anyone who might read this :3

At first, I thought (after that ending) that his character was all about him wanting to live and letting other people into his life once again and all that shit idk. But now, after cashew (from twitter!) explained their interpretation of the ending I see it in a different way (but slightly the same still).

Megumi’s character from the beginning to end has always been about loving selflessly in a selfish world. As a young child, he had viewed himself as nothing but a commodity, a bargaining chip his father left behind - and his value was in the technique he was born with because that's how every adult in his life has treated him. Gojo went to find him because of his technique, the school accepted and helped him out financially because of his technique, the Zenin wanted him because of his technique - just, every adult who could have made a difference in his life failed him because whether they did it on purpose or not, all of them made it seem like Megumi’s value is only ever in his CT.

Yes, Toji was happy when he found out that Megumi kept the Fushiguro surname because of the implication that he was never sold into the Zenin - but that hardly made an impact on Megumi’s perception of his worth because he never knew who Toji even was. To the very end, Megumi’s father was ‘the dude who sold him to the Zenin as a bargaining chip’ for him ((which i hate btw, but we’re talking about ‘the good’ right now so that rant can wait :3c)). And so, as a kid who was made into thinking that he’s just a commodity - he poured all the love in his heart to the one person who loved him just because its him, which was his sister. And in so doing, he became a person who puts someone else’s happiness above his own at all times. 

Gojo tried to get that out of Megumi by telling him to ‘be greedy/selfish’, and he did try to do that during ‘origin of obedience’ where he acquired a domain - not because he wants to save someone else, but because he wants to defeat the finger bearer in front of him. And that was just the one time, moving forward - everything he did has been for someone else again. He almost slipped into the deep end when he almost killed Remi just because he can that one time, but Tsumiki (or the idea of her) stopped him. This made me think that if Tsumiki doesnt exist Megumi would have been so powerful ((and yet evil too at the same time, something to think about i guess))

In a world that rewards selfishness he chooses to be selfless and keep other people's happiness above his own - because to him seeing the people he cares about happy is what peak happiness looks like. So when sukuna tried to manipulate and shame him for everything that happened while he was possessed - he didn't entertain it, instead he decided to do the thing that got him into this mess all over again - to live for other people once again. Living for the sake of Tsumiki’s happiness, trying to save her in every way possible as much as he could, was not a stupid mistake - that's why he will go and do it again. Despite all the pain and suffering it caused him, he will try to live and love again (I'm talking love in its broad definition btw) - because loving Tsumiki wasnt a mistake he should learn from, but a memory he will cherish. 

From the very beginning, Megumi’s ideal was to save people unequally because he's not a hero, and he never tried to be - the best way he can think of living his life is to pick and choose who to save because he can't realistically save everyone. And so, this - as well as the first thing I mentioned - was his truth and he stuck to it to the end. And he did have a moment when he gave up on that, after sukuna succesfully wore down his soul through all this careful planning and risks he took from the moment he got interested in megumi. Possessing him in ch 212 (at his most vulnerable and confused moment), performing a bath ritual to drag his soul even further than it already was, killing Tsumiki so Megumi loses any semblance of hold he might have had even after doing the bath ritual, and then using his likeness to fight sorcerers. Yet despite being the one with the most reason to curse sukuna in death, he decided, not just to live his truth, but tsumiki’s as well - by choosing to think about the people he cares about instead of cursing those who wronged him.

In the end, everyone lived and died by their own truth and ideals, and no one was proven right or wrong. ((gojo, yuta and many other characters too had their ideals challenged but never proven right or wrong - but i dont wanna talk about too many characters or this would go on for days))

Looking at it this way, the ending was 'good' in its own right (and as a concept) - but the road that led up to it, and the execution for most of the scenes left a lot to be desired.

THE BAD

While I do see what gege seems to be trying to say with his story, that doesn't mean I agree with it nor do I believe that such an ending was 'earned' when the build up that led to it was lacking in so many ways.

I agree that the world isn't black and white, and no one has the answer on what the right way to live life truly was - but the villains in his story went beyond being ‘bad’, they were clear and pure evil. And yet we see zero comeuppance - both kenjaku and sukuna didn't get the karma they deserve. Because, as it seems, with all the Buddhism values and themes gege borrowed - in the world of jjk karma isn't real, or at least not for the villains. ((And nope, what naoya and the zenin went through wasn't karma - what they experienced was vengeance, imo, more than it was karma.)) That's why Megumi felt like such an incomplete character, because to complete him the way he deserves would be to answer that karma is real.

Despite all the evil things both sukuna and kenjaku did - we instead see them both rewarded (REPEATEDLY)  for being evil. 

First, kenjaku.

Most people would probably agree that kenjaku is the main villain in the story, despite how the second half of the culling game turned into mostly about sukuna - it was kenjaku's master plan that started all of this. And kenjaku was evil. Pure and unapologetic evil. The things he did to choso's mother alone, warrants him an end worse than death. He lived his long life doing nothing but make other people suffer, all for the sake of curiosity and wanting to be entertained.

And yet the ending we all saw him get was a happy one - dying with a smile on his face because finally after years of living he was finally entertained - and it all happened because he decided to play with people's lives and start a death game.

He was rewarded for being evil.

Playing with the lives of other people was not presented to be as bad as it should be when the villain who committed these crimes didn't even get their comeuppance and was instead rewarded. Just to put into perspective, kenjaku REPEATEDLY forced someone to be impregnated so he can use the cursed children for his experiment. And that is just a tiny drop in the pool of heinous stuff he did. He is beyond evil.

While his way of life and ideal was not proven correct; it wasnt proven as wrong either. Because he didnt get even an ounce of the suffering he induced onto others, instead he was rewarded with a satisfying death. Putting into perspective everything kenjaku did, its pretty insane that he got to have a death where he could have a smile on his face and be satisfied. Gege went out of his way to create an op character (with an op technique that barely got an explanation) out of nowhere with takaba just so kenjaku can have fun. This is what i mean by evil gets rewarded in gege’s story. ((i mean just look at what happened with mei mei vs what happened with nanami. Gege rewards bad people, a lot of the time. And i guess in nanami’s case it can be argued that its coz to gege, death itself is a reward, but i digress.))

And then there’s sukuna.

Where do I even begin…

Maybe at the beginning, to make things easier.

Remember what Sukuna said the first time he reincarnated? He was looking for the 'women and children' celebrating how 'it would be a massacre' - this statement from him suggests that he, not only fights people who challenges him ((like what was implied with his dialogue with Kashimo)) but he was also actively seeking out people leagues weaker than him just for fun or as sports. Which was why the minuscule lore drop we got about him by the end felt really jarring to read - especially when it came from Mahito's mouth. A character who (as far as we knew in the story) barely even knows himself, let alone Sukuna. And yet, for the sake of making things just speed up and over with, we are just supposed to believe that he knows enough about Sukuna to say that his reason for being the way he was was because of 'revenge to the world' 😭. Where did Mahito learn that? When did he learn that? We don't know, so we just gotta accept and sit through Gege's 'tell not show' way of telling a story.

Sukuna is evil, and just like Kenjaku he was not apologetic about it nor does he regret it. Every path in his life he chose was that of the evil route - there was no grey area, there was no question on whether his way of life was good or not. It was evil, plain and simple.

And yet the story Gege wrote kept rewarding him for being evil.

And it seems as if all the innocent people he killed (for no reason!) doesnt matter.

Despite how bullshit it was - he was able to steal an innocent kid's body using a binding vow that should have had him killed (or worse) and yet it did nothing to him. He was rewarded for being greedy. He then had the time of his life fighting gojo, I don't count the jumping that happened later on as him having the time of his life coz it seems to be just a major annoyance to him. And then later on died with the option to walk a different path in the next life. In itself, it sounds great - but looking at the destruction he caused... Where's the karma? 

There's none, because gege doesnt seem to think he deserves it. 

I really really disagree with this message ngl. Coz the characters in gege's manga holds more sympathy to the perpetrators than the victims themselves - and I just can't agree with it  ((coz wdym gojo tried his best 'to reach sukuna'? That shit came out of nowhere.. Like,, why was he more concerned if sukuna had a good time? This wouldnt feel so jarring and out of place if Gege took the time to flesh out the characters more. if he gave us a moment of Gojo sympathizing with sukuna before the fight, before the culling game, before Shibuya. Meaningful character interactions between Gojo and Sukuna, a convincing one, that would make it make sense that Gojo's goal when he was fighting Sukuna was to, apparently, 'reach him' and 'make him understand'. The ending we got doesnt feel 'earned' because this whole time gege never gave us anything about Sukuna's character aside from 'he's very strong and he kills people' until the last two pages of the manga.))

For gege to go with this theme and messaging, he ended up disregard Megumi's character completely and reducing him into this character who had zero feelings on the matter that directly affected him. Yes, he was apologetic and all that - but... That's it? And while i do understand (i think) what it was Gege was trying to go for with Megumi's character, the execution of it just felt so half baked and lackluster - making Megumi's character feel incomplete despite the amazing build up Gege made for his character.

((A similar thing was done to yuji's character for the sake of the 'messaging' gege aimed for, but i will get to that later.))

Sukuna's statement of 'there are consequences to being greedy' never came to bite him in the ass, despite how much it should've considering all he has done- because everything he does gets rewarded. It's like, being that evil is good coz he keeps on getting what he wanted. And like a dumbass I kept on waiting for karma to get him and it never did. Coz karma isn't real in gege's world. ((and no, him being defeated is not karma because the only thing it did is lead him towards the path of redemption - like, the victims dont matter and what matters more is the psyche of the perpetrator. I dont know if i described it properly, but eh.))

Sukuna bets his life with a binding vow? He gets rewarded with the body he wanted with zero consequences - doesn't matter that gege had to go through a MASSIVE plot hole just to get there. Because in no universe was the thing he did to Megumi (and to hana) not considered ‘harm’, but it all got shoved under the carpet because gege doesnt know what to do with that. Gege needed that binding vow to not punish Sukuna, so despite the established rules he wrote in his own story that warrants that binding vow penalty to trigger - it just didnt... because??? If it was coz 'yuji didnt include himself in the people that cant be harmed', as Sukuna guessed, then i guess yuji didnt include Megumi and Hana in it too? But doesnt that neglect the point of yuji's character as being 'kind'? 212 was a massive plothole and i think thats really where the writing began to get... bizarre.

Sukuna kills yorozu/tsumiki just to drag Megumi further into the abyss? He gets rewarded with a weapon that (surprise, surprise) saved him from higuruma's CT. A CT that before that moment, he doesn't even know about. Good thing killing tsumiki's body rewarded him with a weapon, amirite?

Sukuna never fails to show his hatred for Yuji and would always try and make him suffer whenever he gets the chance? He gets rewarded by Yuji suddenly giving him an option to live again even though the entire story Yuji had always said he would kill sukuna. And i understand its coz yuji was able to know sukuna has a soul ((coz gege gave him the power of the mc punch)) and was able to conclude that he’s still human despite the HEINOUS crimes he committed, and megumi having been possessed by sukuna the longest was able to see that sukuna was desperate to live too - so i do see where gege was going with it. It just feels like the build up towards that conclusion wasn't earned, because even though it can be understood it just wasnt SHOWN to us. All thats being done is TELL and never SHOW.

Everything sukuna does gets rewarded and it just doesn't sit right with me. Its like saying the war criminals are just lashing out coz the world wronged them, that they deserve sympathy too. Okay, and what about the people they wronged, tho? Sukuna deserves sympathy for the world that wronged him, sure, but it doesnt absolve him of the crimes he committed - he deserves karma just as much as he deserves sympathy. And yet we see him walking away from everything he did with a smile on his face, zero regrets, zero repercussions and the possibility of living a better life in his next. ???

the ending

((Im sorry in advanced if youre a yuji fan coz im gonna say something you might not like 😢))

Imagine your sister got killed by someone and then your classmate comes in and says they forgive your sister’s murderer and wants to give them a chance at a better life? That this classmate of yours would be willing to turn his back on everyone else just so this criminal who killed your sister (and so many others in cold blood) can live? That even if no one else is willing to, he would give solace to this murderer - just so this murderer gets his second chance? What would that feel, you think? Thats a pretty weird scenario you might say, but thats exactly what Gege made yuji say and do by the end there.

Gege tried to portray 'kindness' with that speech yuji did, but ((imo!)) he ended up making yuji's character sound insensitive and cruel not just towards sukuna but mostly towards his victims and to all the people that died trying to stop him.

In itself, maybe in Gege's head - it sounds like a "good" thing to say - but when you look at the chapters that happened before that, its not something yuji nor sukuna earned because yuji was not sukuna's only victim and he wasnt the only one who defeated sukuna for him to decide and say all that. Knowing the things we know about the story that led up to that moment, gege just made yuji sound selfish and cruel - by having zero regards to everyone else's sacrifice and suffering. Which is a very weird thing for gege to do because before that moment, yuji was talking about the people who died - and then disregards that in the next chapter just so gege can write those lines.

Yuji's character is far, FAR, from selfish and cruel, and yet that speech gege made him say to the dying sukuna unfortunately made him sound like that.

This would all land better IF we saw yuji SEE sukuna go through the life he had during the heian era - like maybe what he went through was enough of a reason for someone like yuji ((who was supposed to be kind)) to suddenly offer all that, knowing damn well the amount of people who would possibly be hurt by that decision.

Im really not digging gege's exploration of good and evil - coz he almost always rewards evil and make good people suffer (with zero payoff, mind you). This 'trying to understand the villain coz he's human too' route just fell flat because we were never given the chance to understand sukuna except in the last 2 pages where he was given vague lore drops - and a statement from mahito who, before that moment, doesnt even know anything about sukuna except that he's strong. How and why the world 'wronged' him, we'll just never know, coz instead of showing us, gege kept on just 'telling' instead. But i guess for the sake of just ending the story we all just gotta accept that mahito, of all things, somehow knew of sukuna's reasons. lmao?

And the reason why i keep referring to the lines as 'Gege made this character say this and that' is because by the end, and even in some chapters before that, the characters lost their identity and are instead talking through a script gege made them say. Yes, a story is essentially that - but a good story is where characters feel alive and are speaking through their own soul which the last 5 chapters of jjk lacked tremendously. The characters felt like they were locked in a fixed role gege chose for them, and then they were given scripts to say, and then they were all rushed to say those lines because of tight deadline, and they have to say those lines just so the story would end. I know i dont make sense... but it probably would make sense to anyone who have read a good story where characters actually feel alive and not just there as the author's mouthpiece.

I know this is gege's first series, and its bound to have some flaws - drawing and writing a story weekly requires immense skill and discipline, i respect his craft a lot. Its why the disappointment i felt was great, because the story in the first half had such a good thing going and so i placed such a high expectation on it. Still, for his first series, its not bad... I probably wont be looking forward to his next series though, i find im not the biggest fan of this writing style that leaves a lot of things unresolved and just lets the readers write their own headcanons to fill the void.

((if anyone read up here, uhhhh hey there! thank you for reading my (almost) 4k word rant lmao, i actually have more to say but ee.. there's too many. This is my last rant on jjk (probably) feel free to fight me on this, one thing i wont back down on is the plot hole in 212 - that was a stinky plot hole and we just went past that like, damn..))

bye for now!

[pandapetals]

Pampering

You take care of Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

Logan didn’t get sick. His healing factor made sure of that. In fact, he was practically immune to just about everything. Which was why it was nearly impossible for you to fuss over him. He’d been the one to take care of you plenty of times—carrying you to bed when you were too exhausted to move or making you soup when you were under the weather. But when he staggered in after his latest mission, blood staining his suit and a limp in his step, you decided it was your turn to play nurse.

"I’m fine," Logan grumbled, his hand pressed to his lower back as he tried to shake off the obvious discomfort. "Just need to lie down."

You crossed your arms, fixing him with a stern look. "You don’t look fine," you replied, glancing pointedly at the gash on his shoulder and the streak of dried blood running down his leg. "You look like you tried to fight a lawnmower and lost."

Logan huffed, a hint of his usual stubbornness flashing in his eyes. "It’s just a scratch, darlin’," he said, attempting to brush past you. But the wince that escaped his lips betrayed him, and he immediately regretted it when he saw the determined look on your face.

"Oh no, you don’t," you shot back, stepping in front of him and placing a hand on his chest to halt his progress. "You’re going straight to the bathroom, or so help me, I’ll drag you in there myself."

Logan raised an eyebrow at your tone—more serious than he was used to. "I don’t think you could, sweetheart," he said, trying to add a bit of his usual gruffness to soften the moment. "But I’d like to see you try."

You narrowed your eyes at him, your hands planted on your hips. "Don’t test me, Logan," you warned, your voice firm but gentle. "Get your stubborn butt in the bathroom. Now."

Logan let out a defeated sigh, but there was a flicker of amusement in his gaze as he finally relented. "Alright, alright," he grunted. "Guess I’m not in the mood to be dragged, anyway."

As you guided him into the bathroom, Logan grumbled under his breath, but you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped just a bit now that he wasn’t putting on a show. You turned on the tap, letting the warm water fill the tub, steam rising up to fog the mirror.

"Get in," you ordered softly, turning back to face him. "You need to soak. It'll help with the soreness."

Logan gave you a skeptical look but started to strip off his tattered suit anyway, his movements stiff and slow. He climbed into the tub, the hot water hitting his skin and making him flinch before he sank down with a low, relieved groan. The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt almost immediately, his head leaning back against the edge.

You knelt beside the tub, grabbed a washcloth, and dipped it into the water. "You know, I don’t get to take care of you very often," you said, your tone softening as you gently ran the cloth over his chest, washing away the dried blood and grime. "It’s kind of nice… me being the one to fuss over you for a change."

Logan grunted, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you through the steam. "I ain’t used to all this pamperin’," he mumbled, though his voice lacked its usual gruffness. "Not sure how I feel about it."

You dabbed at a cut on his shoulder, your touch tender and slow. "Well, get used to it," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. "Because I’m not stopping until I’m sure you’re in one piece again."

He huffed softly, but there was a warmth in his gaze that hadn’t been there a moment ago. "You’re wastin’ your time," he murmured, though he leaned into your touch as you wiped away another streak of dried blood. "You know I’ll be patched up in no time."

"I know," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you worked your way down his arm, tracing the muscles there with the cloth. "But until then, I’m going to make sure you feel as good as new." You dipped the cloth in the water again and brushed it over his face, smoothing the tension lines from his brow. "Besides," you added with a smirk, "you look kind of cute when you’re not scowling."

Logan’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his eyes softening as they met yours. "Cute, huh?" he muttered, his voice low and rumbling. "Ain’t exactly what I’m goin’ for."

You chuckled, leaning in a little closer as you squeezed the water out of the washcloth over his shoulder. "Well, you’re just going to have to live with it," you teased, "because I’m calling the shots tonight."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand reaching out of the water to find yours. "Guess I could let you win this one," he said, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "But don’t get used to it."

"Oh, believe me, I won’t," you replied with a grin, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. "This is a rare occurrence, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

You continued to wash him as Logan’s grumbles softened into contented silence. He sank deeper into the tub, his body relaxing under your care, and the hint of a smile never left his lips. It wasn’t often that he let his guard down like this, and you couldn’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction at the sight of him—finally letting someone take care of him, if only for a little while.

As you traced the washcloth gently over his arm again, you felt his hand tighten around yours just slightly, like a silent thank you. It was enough to tell you that even if Logan wasn’t good at admitting he needed this, he was grateful to have you there—looking after him in the way that only you could.

[banditblvd]

notebookcast.com was an experience and a half

[chilapis]

Last post before I crash and no-one hears from me until I return from my first final the morrow’s eve (a changed man no doubt) but there’ll never be anything funnier to me than consistently being viewed as a composed and calm saviour by peers while I’m, actively and uncontrollably losing it.

[pseudowho]

Behind the Wall

Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?

A Nanami Kento glory hole story.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint

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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.

Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.

Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.

"About industry average, I think."

A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."

You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.

"Great pension plan, though."

"I somehow doubt that."

You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.

"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."

Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.

"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."

He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.

"Well, I can help with that."

Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.

The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.

"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"

A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.

"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"

Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.

You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.

"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.

"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"

You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.

"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."

When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.

"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."

You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.

"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."

"God, you really do need thi--"

Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.

"O-oh-- wow--"

Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.

His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.

"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."

"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"

A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."

You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.

"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.

"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.

You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.

"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."

You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.

"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."

"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"

You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.

"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"

A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."

You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."

Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.

Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"

Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"

"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"

You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.

Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.

"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"

"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."

You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.

You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.

"...you don't...don't have to--"

"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."

You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;

"Scarier monsters than them in the world."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.

"...hey, you. I missed you last night."

He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.

"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"

"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."

"I'd talk to you for free."

A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.

"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"

Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.

"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."

A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."

You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.

"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."

"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."

You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.

"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."

He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"

"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."

A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.

"Alright...if you insist."

When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.

"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."

Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.

When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.

He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.

"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."

He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.

Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.

"And I'd do that for free, too."

It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.

You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.

You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.

"Are you lonely, in there?"

You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.

"Not anymore."

There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.

"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."

You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"

"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."

You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.

"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."

Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...

"I...I've never done...that."

"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"

"Okay."

You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.

"Yes? You...are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."

"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."

You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.

"This one is mine."

You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.

"Alright, here...here I come."

Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.

You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.

"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."

You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.

A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.

"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"Do you trust me?"

"One hundred percent."

A pleased rumble. "Good girl."

Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.

By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.

"Does that feel good?"

"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.

This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.

He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.

You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.

"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"

At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."

His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.

Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.

"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."

Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.

Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.

"Come for me, my love."

As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.

"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"

"--don't you dare."

The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.

Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.

"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."

He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.

"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"

When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.

Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.

And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.

Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.

"Say...say my name..."

"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"

"Kento--"

"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"

The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.

"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."

Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.

"...Kento, huh?"

He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"

"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"

He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.

"I won't let you pay me for that--"

"--I absolutely fucking am--"

"--no you are not--"

After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.

"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"

You blinked, confused.

"Just...just the one. Right at the end."

Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.

Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"I worried you wouldn't be here."

You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.

"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"

You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.

Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.

You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.

"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"

Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.

"Kento, you...see it too?"

"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"

You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.

"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."

"Kento, I can't just walk out--"

"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."

When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.

The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--

"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"

A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.

"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."

Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.

"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.