#if every interaction i have with you is stupid

[linddzz]

I am slamming that validation button like a rodent wanting more sugar water so here's more mostly rough draft Jayvik.

A continuation of the nicknames fic. More science dorks being dorks, this time greatly featuring some seriously questionable boundaries between totally normal lab colleagues, and much more briefly featuring Viktor being so horny it makes him stupid. Also appearing is Jayce Talis, ADHD King and allusions to Viktor's past slut era. Both fics are a sort of preview chapter in the bigger thing @amahhi and I are working on!

Thank you to @avelera for planting the idea of platonically dubious scritches in my head, and for being a constant sounding board!

Rating: PG

Pair: Jayvik pre-relationship

----

It continues to be surprising, how not surprising everything is when it comes to Jayce.

A week into the partnership, and that initial bright thrill of something new has not dulled in the slightest. Nor has the perfectly ordinary, easy comfort that he feels with Jayce. The un-remarkability of this calm is what makes it remarkable. With Jayce, there is none of the discomfort of dealing with another person. None of the abrasive tension that arises when Viktor must face other people as distinct personalities which he must contend with, instead of the larger concepts of People. People as an idea have problems that he can solve, whose suffering he can reduce without any needs for interaction causing issues.

But Jayce functions outside of these issues Viktor often finds himself in. Jayce slots into a space Viktor hardly knew existed, like there had always been this jagged edge to him that, to his great surprise, was actually part of a puzzle that Jayce had the other half to.

Past experience would have him expecting that, with time, the shine would wear off. The glow would dim. He would learn all the little faults and human contradictions of Jayce and would grow to feel that jagged tension return. Spending hours upon hours each and every day for a solid week with him have revealed Jayce’s little foibles, yet not one has grown into a frustration. In actuality, Viktor has had nothing but further data points to add weight to his newly forming thoughts of destiny and its relation to himself and Jayce. For each little fault and lacking Jayce has, Viktor can help. He can, perhaps, be the puzzle piece that returns the favor to fit neatly into Jayce's life.

For example, Jayce can grow blind to his surroundings, his mind too caught in their work. Viktor had assumed that the apartment was in the state he first found it in due to an explosive force of arcane power. He still thinks that, but he has learned that this great force was not the struck gem amplifying and reflecting the kinetic force aimed at it to exponential levels, but Jayce himself. He often forgets his keys, or his mugs, or his pencils behind an ear, his goggles on his head, his tools, everything but his journal really.

It was the third time that he left his keys in the lab (on top of twice that he came in groaning that he had locked himself out of his temporary housing), that Viktor realized what the pattern was, and that he could provide a solution.

Jayce had more important things to focus his mind on, so it was both useless and counterproductive to adjust Jayce’s behavior or habits so he could track the little necessities of life. Fortunately, Viktor is well practiced on keeping track of what he needs to. It’s a skill that was refined when he first used it to avoid detection in the Academy, and then even further developed as Professor Heimerdinger’s assistant. When Jayce left his keys behind again, the answer was simple and obvious. They were already missing from Jayce’s person, so Viktor simply took them to the sort of establishment in the lanes that would never ask any questions, but would always make a perfect copy of any keys brought to them.

Jayce’s keys were neatly returned to him, and Viktor took no small delight in waiting for the next time Jayce smacked his forehead as they left for the day, realizing that he had once again locked himself out of his rooms, to reveal his backups. There was a brief moment, where Jayce stared at the keys hanging from Viktor’s finger, when he worried in a flash that this was not something a friend or colleague should do, that he had overstepped in some way. Then Jayce snorted with his grin, called Viktor brilliant if a little terrifying, but mostly brilliant, and everything was perfect.

The key was only for Jayce’s temporary rooms in the Academy housing, but Viktor could make another set once the apartment repairs were complete, even if it seems wasteful to have Jayce eventually move out of the building that Viktor lives in.

Jayce is also wonderful at taking notes for his work, but less skilled at going back to reorganize or refine those notes. His notes are exemplary, even with the little flair of him signing every single page, but it leads to problems.

These problems are their current struggle in the cramped space of their semi-lab at some odd hour of the night. Viktor stands and contemplates the board crowded with copies of Jayce’s notes, additional observations both have about that first successful arcane spell, and Viktor’s little chalked notes next to clusters of paper denoting what sections of an article each goes to. Behind him, Jayce is not exactly pacing, which would require repeating of one path, but he is in a constant state of muttering movement with occasional bursts of frustration over paperwork.

Because they can make a fully stable arcane frame that affects the gravity within the dean’s office, but that means nothing to the academy if it is not properly written and submitted for review. They are on their fourth draft of the paper, and the initial excitement over being published has dwindled with every draft that has been returned with Heimerdinger’s cheerful blue ink slashed across the pages. One of Jayce’s faults, Viktor is finding, is that he does not take such things gracefully. It takes the second set of revisions for Viktor to realize that pride is not the primary hurt that Jayce feels, but the thread of anxiety Viktor had seen woven through Jayce’s journal. The need to prove himself, and the fear of impending failure at every turn.

“How else do they want me to explain it?” Jayce groans, and Viktor does not need to turn around to know that the perfectly clean cut hair is likely sticking out in every direction.

“I was hoping the Professor would not have edited “crank it” so quickly out of the methodology.” Viktor muses. That was his greatest disappointment. “I am deeply curious on how he expects us to find half of the citations he has requested for this entirely new scientific field.”

“And when the Academy insists there aren’t more tomes on mage lore!” Jayce snarls.

“We will have to expand outside of the Academy in the future.” Viktor agrees, turning a little to once again look over the taped up pages of their latest draft and what blue marks are where. “However, I think a more concrete description of the runic array you conducted into the stabilizer may be our ticket past many of the other issues he has found.”

Instead of grumblings or more huffed complaints, a heavy weight thumps onto Viktor’s shoulder. He pauses, realizing immediately that it is Jayce’s head that has slumped against him, and Jayce’s impressive body heat against his back indicating that there is, at most, a few inches of space between them.

“I don’t know how.” Jayce groans, but it’s less petulant and quieter, almost fearful. “I don’t know how to describe what I did.”

“Hm.” Is all Viktor can say in that exact moment. He is, briefly, distracted by Jayce’s hair brushing against his jaw with the strong scent of some sort of…of fancy wood. It is not an unpleasant scent.

“Sorry.” Jayce mutters. “Sorry, I know you’re not touchy I just- gimme a second I gotta think.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” Viktor assures him. It is alright. Jayce is correct that Viktor is not nearly as tactile as Jayce is, but he is at this point well acquainted with Jayce’s propensity towards touch. His own lack of aversion or any other strong reaction to it was one of the earliest surprises in their partnership. “Take your time gathering your thoughts. This is a far less dire circumstance than that first stabilization was.”

“You told me there was no pressure then.” Jayce mumbles, already sounding a little less miserable.

“That is because I was lying.” Viktor hums, delighted at the snort he gets, and the way he can feel Jayce’s movement from the small laugh.

“Seriously V, I just remembered that night, remembered what the mage looked like and what all the magic looked like and I…did the same thing. But it wasn’t the same thing, because no one got teleported. I don’t even know if what I did was a spell.” Viktor thinks he can feel the resonance of Jayce’s voice through his core, spreading in waves from the point where Jayce’s forehead presses down at the top edge of his shoulder.

The distraction is not a true distraction however, because Viktor catches something in what Jayce is muttering. “You can remember how he moved, what the runes he summoned looked like?”

“I remember everything about that night.”

“Yes but-” There is something here. He has already seen Jayce's remarkable skill at memorizing things that Jayce deems worth memorizing. If Jayce says he can remember it, Viktor does not doubt it. “The order of them, could you remember that?”

The head on Viktor’s shoulder shifts as Jayce rolls it slightly to one side, but he doesn’t move it in the other to shake his head. It’s a contemplative movement. “Maybe…I think so. Let me...ok this is going to sound so weird but can I just uh, hang out here for a second? It helps me think.”

“By all means.” There’s something particularly marvelous about becoming a stabilizing agent for Jayce’s mind, he would be a fool not to agree to the opportunity. As Jayce calibrates himself, Viktor once again considers their paper, the problems it has given them. Jayce had moved the dial of the stabilizing framework like a conductor, with precision. Heimerdinger wants written out theories and explanations and citations, but what if they could instead find a formula. What if the precision of Jayce’s input could be broken down into components and quantified…

His free hand moves with habitual lack of awareness to where it would usually begin fiddling with his own hair, and it takes a few moments for him to notice the slight change in both texture and location of the hair he is rolling between his fingertips. Even then, he only notices because Jayce’s head becomes an even heavier weight on his shoulder.

“Ah, apologies.” He says, stopping the movement, thinking this might be a thing to feel awkward about. “Force of habit, it helps me think.”

“No, s’fine.” Jayce says, voice thicker in a way that is dangerous for Viktor’s higher thought processes. “It’s nice, actually. I don’t mind.”

After a second, Viktor continues. This time he notes the finer texture of Jayce’s hair. It’s very soft, sleek almost, with traces of the gel he uses to style it making sections of stiffness that crunch away under Viktor’s fingers.

“You smell nice.” Jayce mumbles.

A response to that requires some consideration. Viktor…considers.

There was a time, not all that long ago, where he would have leapt on someone with Jayce’s build telling him he smelled good while standing a scant inch away from Viktor. He would have assumed that the intent was for him to leap. Viktor is more discriminating than he used to be about sexual escapades, mostly because he began finding the nights spent on dalliances not worth the distractions, but even he can admit that if Jayce had put a head on his shoulder and told him he smelled good a week ago, Viktor would know exactly how to respond. It would have involved leaning back against that broad heat, turning lightly twirling fingers into a fist in Jayce’s hair, then gleefully seeing where things went from that point.

But now…

Jayce fits in like a missing puzzle piece. Whatever Jayce is, it is not one of Viktor’s brief encounters. Viktor would want to tell Jayce he didn’t need to get his apartment repaired, when Viktor lives much closer to the lab and things would be much more efficient if they lived together. Viktor can be wildly in love with this man in every definition of love that exists, but romantic or sexual entanglements (and if there is one, Viktor very much wants the other as well) often end. In Viktor’s personal experience, they ended before morning, and that was only considering the sexual entanglement. Heightened intimacy was desperately tempting, but it risked a greater end to the entire partnership. Even if nothing ever started, a proposition alone could forever poison what there already is.

Jayce is tactile in a very casual way. He flirts with everything that smiles at him for more than three seconds, and there has been nowhere near enough data for Viktor to calculate the risk of losing that side of the puzzle, or how much of a reward he would gain from taking that risk.

“Thank you.” He says eventually, slow and still considering. Then, because that feels incomplete and awkward, he adds, “I use soap.

Jayce snorts again, the head on Viktor’s shoulder shaking as Jayce’s body shakes with quiet laughter. Viktor knows he is shaking with it, because every other hitch up of Jayce’s shoulders causes a tiny sway forward, which bumps Jayce’s chest against Viktor’s back. Each of these millisecond bits of contact makes Viktor once again run through the considerations of risk versus reward in relation to getting his hands on that chest. Under the shirt. He would need both hands. There is an awful lot of chest, after all. Maybe both hands and his mouth. Definitely all three. It really is so much chest.

He takes the fantastic effort to rein his mind away from Jayce’s prodigious chest, even more effort to pull it further from contemplating the amount of shoulder matching that chest and what the rest of the torso probably looks like. There should be a response in kind to Jayce’s. A friendly compliment to return a compliment.

“Your hair is very soft.” He decides, as that seems safe as well as relevant to Jayce's compliment. Jayce’s silent laughter turns into some small hitched sounds that near a squeak, which means that Viktor’s thoughts are successfully pulled away from the sexual distractions, but only into the romantic sort.

“Thank you.” Jayce says with a dreadful mimic of Viktor’s accent, which only strengthens Viktor’s resolve to not take any uninformed risks that could lead to him losing this, “I use a leave-in conditioner.”

Viktor’s hand drops from Jayce’s hair, and he turns his head as much as he can to shoot a baffled look at the top of Jayce’s head.

“Why the fuck would you leave in a hair conditioner?” He asks, affronted. “Conditioner already feels dreadful. It’s heavy and slimy, absolutely horrendous.”

Jayce shoots up (which is a shame) so that he can lean around and give Viktor a look of equal outrage. “What does- Viktor it’s a different thing from- do you not use conditioner!?”

“Of course not. It feels terrible, I already said that.” Jayce makes a pained sound, and Viktor waves him off. “Enough of that nonsense. It is a waste of time. I have an idea.”

Jayce moves up next to him, facing Viktor with an intent eagerness. “What is it?”

“You are going to describe to me exactly what you remember. Each rune, each movement, as much as you can.” Another thought occurs to him, and Viktor snatches his cane from where it’s leaning on the board so he can turn to the inert stabilizing frame sitting on a table. “And I want you to dial in the stabilizer as you did in Heimerdinge’s lab as you do so. I will record everything. I believe there may be something we can measure, some sort of constant in the timing and the runes used, a way to-”

“We can make it an equation.” Jayce interrupts, breathless and awed, knowing what Viktor is thinking without Viktor needing to explain any of it. He so deeply wishes Heimerdinger had let them keep “crank it” in the paper. “Something concrete.”

“Precisely. The runes are instructions, a code. Perhaps the clockwise and counter-clockwise cycles of them are additional instructions. We can use your stable field as a baseline to begin working on a formula.”

“We can give them a solid theorum.” Jayce is already rushing to the stabilizing frame, even recreating the hunched over pose he had that wondrous night. “Okay, tell me when you’re ready.”

Any thoughts on conditioner or smells are gone. In the future, it will be as common as breathing for them to be drawn together when they need help thinking. Jayce’s head will always find Viktor’s shoulder, and Viktor will learn that playing with Jayce’s hair further settles his restless mind and channels his thoughts towards solutions. Whatever else there is, the most important goal to further all other goals of Viktor’s life is to keep the partnership. In the partnership there is the work, the thrill. The endless infinitesimal ways they fit together, two pieces destined to find the other. In the moment, Viktor takes up his notes and marvels again on the nature of fate, of probability, and of magic.

[nhlclover]

3, 2, 1! LUKE HUGHES

— event masterlist !

pairing: bratt!sister!reader x luke hughes

summary: amidst the glittering chaos of a new year's eve party, you attempt to find closure with the boy you've been crushing on since you came to new jersey.

warnings: bratt!sister, jespers younger sister, brief mentions of drinking, a big ol' kiss

wc: 1.31k

notes: 11 of 12 in my xmas celebration! not technically christmas but i love new years first kiss plots!!

The evening begins in a blur of anticipation, a mingling of nerves and excitement that coils in your stomach like a restless storm. New Jersey isn’t where you thought you’d find yourself spending the holidays, but with Jesper’s insistence and the comfort of your brother’s familiar presence, you had stayed. And now, you’re en route to the Devils’ New Year’s party, clad in a deep navy sequined mini dress that glitters like the night sky, trying to pretend your heart isn’t racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the party.

Jesper’s hands rest casually on the steering wheel, but his eyes flick towards you every so often, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re nervous,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Am not,” you reply too quickly, fiddling with the rings that adorn your fingers.

Jesper huffs a laugh. “Right. So, who’s the lucky guy you’re hoping to kiss at midnight?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the flush creeping up your neck. “No one. I’m just going to celebrate and have fun, okay?”

He hums thoughtfully. “Not even Luke?”

The name hits you like a slap, your head snapping towards him. “Why would you bring up Luke?”

Jesper grins now, openly amused. “Oh, come on. Just because I didn’t go to fancy, smart people school like you doesn’t mean I’m stupid. You should see the way you two look at each other. It’s… gross.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you cross your arms, leaning back into the car seat as you glare at Jesper. Moving to New Jersey for hockey, and heading to Princeton to play D1, had been a whirlwind in itself. You hadn’t anticipated the move would also bring a perfectly sweet and charming boy into your life as well.

Every interaction with Luke had an undercurrent of something that felt almost electric. His teasing remarks always carried a hint of sincerity, and his soft smiles lingered just a second too long. You weren’t blind to the way his gaze would find you across a room, or the way your pulse quickened whenever he was near. But neither of you had crossed the invisible line between harmless flirtation and something more, leaving you in this frustrating limbo of uncertainty.

Your throat tightens as you fumble for a rebuttal, but nothing comes. He notices.

“Exactly,” Jesper says, his voice laced with triumph. You open your mouth to retort, but Jesper cuts you off. “Look, all I’m saying is that you’ve got an opportunity tonight. New Year’s Eve, champagne, fireworks—literally the most romantic setup possible. If you like him, just… do something about it. It’s not that hard.”

You bite your lip, Jesper’s words rattling around in your brain. Could you? Could you really make the first move? Or, more terrifyingly, what if you were wrong? What if Luke didn’t feel the same way, and you ruined everything?

As the car pulls up to the party, Jesper glances at you, his usual grin softened into something gentler. “Trust me,” he says as if he could read the little thoughts of uncertainty running through your mind. “He likes you.”

The party is already in full swing when you walk in, the hum of music and the buzz of conversation creating an atmosphere thick with celebration. The room is a wash of twinkling lights, champagne flutes, and laughter. You smooth your hands over your dress, the sequins catching the light with every movement, and try to swallow the lump in your throat.

Jesper winks at you before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to navigate the throng of people on your own. And then, almost as if drawn by some magnetic force, your eyes find him.

He’s leaning casually against the bar, dressed in dark jeans and a Ralph Lauren sweater that fits just right—effortlessly polished yet entirely approachable. His brown curls are longer than when you last saw them, sitting in a boyish heap on top of his head, and his expression is easygoing as he laughs at something one of his teammates says. But the moment he catches sight of you, his face changes. His posture straightens, and a flicker of something — relief? Awe? — crosses his face. His gaze sweeps over you, lingering a beat too long on your dress, and you feel heat rising to your cheeks.

But before either of you can act, someone claps a hand on Luke’s shoulder, pulling his attention away, and a cluster of teammates intercepts you. The moment is gone.

The night becomes a frustrating dance, a game of cat and mouse where you’re always just out of reach. You catch glimpses of Luke across the room, his head turning as if searching for you, but something — or someone — always gets in the way. One time, you enter the lounge area and spot him on the other side, his eyes lighting up when they meet yours. But just as you step forward, someone grabs your arm, pulling you into a conversation about your studies at Princeton. By the time you politely excuse yourself, Luke is gone. Again.

You find yourself checking the clock more often than you care to admit. Time feels like sand slipping through your fingers. The minutes tick closer to midnight, the air buzzing with anticipation as people gather their champagne flutes and prepare for the countdown. Your heart sinks with every passing second you don’t see him. You resign yourself to the fact that this night might end like so many others — with a lingering sense of what could have been.

The final countdown begins at thirty seconds. The room erupts in excitement, voices growing louder with each passing number. You lean against a high-top table, frustration seeping into your bones as you watch couples and friends gather in anticipation. Your chest feels tight, disappointment creeping in as the seconds tick closer to the new year.

10… 9… 8…

You scan the room one last time, half-hoping, half-defeated—until you see him. Luke bursts into the room, his expression frantic as his eyes search the crowd. When they finally meet yours, a visible wave of relief washes over him.

7… 6… 5…

He’s moving toward you now, weaving through the throng of people with long, purposeful strides. Your breath catches as the crowd seems to part for him, every other noise and movement fading into nothing.

4… 3… 2... 1...

He reaches you just as the final seconds vanish, his hands finding your hips, pulling you flush against him. The room erupts in cheers, a cacophony of “Happy New Year!” echoing around you, but all you feel is Luke. His lips crash against yours with a fervor that takes your breath away, his hands anchoring you to him as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You kiss back without hesitation, your arms winding around his shoulders to pull him closer, your fingers curling into the soft fabric of his sweater. It’s a kiss that’s been building for months, maybe longer, and it’s everything—soft and urgent, sweet and electric.

When you finally break apart, the world feels fuzzy around the edges, the noise of the party and the faint sound of Auld Lang Syne fading into a distant hum. Luke’s forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he searches your face.

“We’ve waited too long for that,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you nod, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater.

The corners of Luke’s mouth lift into a soft smile. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” you manage to whisper back, your lips brushing his once more as the words leave your mouth.

Around you, the party rages on, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you — finally on the same page, finally saying all the things your hearts had been trying to tell each other for months.

[rosenclaws]

Birds of a Feather || Old Man!Logan x Reader x Worst!Logan

summary: Logan loves you even if he can't say it but he knows that given his old age he's been lacking in the intimacy area. When a strange portal opens up and another Logan tumbles out of it, things get a little messy. (Or Worst Logan cucks Old Man Logan)

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, cucking, fingering, rough sex, cum eating, masturbation, thigh riding, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, mating press, doggy style, dirty talk, kinda mean!worst logan (he taunts old man logan a lot), slight pain kink (Logan), ass play, nipple play, breast play. Also neither logan ever interact with each other beyond talking.

a/n: Soooo Merry Christmas!! Here is my gift to all of you lmao. So to set a few things up, At the start both men are called Logan but a couple paragraphs in is when I separate them into James and Logan. I really hope it doesn't get confusing but I did my best lol. I really hope this lives up to peoples expectations im kinda nervous lol. Anyways happy holidays and I hope u love it!!!

Logan was an old man now. The adamantium was seeping itself into his blood. Killing him. It had been for years but with his healing factor starting to fail him the poisoning was truly taking its effect. He was weaker, tired. His heart was touched by a poison and it was turning him cold. There's only one good thing in his life now and it's you.

You're too kind. He tried to keep you away from his fucked up life but you were relentless. You were an experienced nurse who could take care of Charles. Free of charge. He fought you at every step of the way. Not wanting your pity. But he caved. 

Eventually you started taking care of him too. You were just too pretty, too charming. He couldn't stay away. This old man doesn't believe he gets to be happy and you try to change his mind every day. He did his best to take care of you too but the one area he knows he's lacking is the sex life. He tries, he really does. But he's old and while you're the sexiest thing on the planet, sometimes he just can't keep it up or he just can't finish.

It's embarrassing. Humiliating. You wave him off, telling him that it's not a big deal. That he still pleases you in a million other ways. Riding his face, his big fingers, you don't need his cock to know that he can take care of you. But it still bothers him. Still you lived your lives and things were fine. Until something weird happened. Really fucking weird. A large yellow portal opened up in your house. Logan bared his claws and pushed you behind him, ready to fight whatever the hell stepped out of it. 

To both of your shock another...him? 

Beaten up and bruised but its him. He looked younger but his hair was in these little tuffs and he was wearing a god awful yellow suit. He was kind of cute. Is this what your Logan would have looked like when he was younger? You snap out of your thinking, this is another man. It's Logan but not Logan. 

"Fucking shit!" The other Logan yells as the yellow door closes behind him. 

"Wade you dumb motherfucker I'm going to rip your head off!" He roars. He turns around, wiping the blood from his face. His eyes go wide when he sees you. He calls your name and steps towards you. Your Logan growls, putting up his claws. 

"Back the fuck up bub." The other Logan looks between the two of you and just narrows his eyes. Both their shiny claws come out to threaten the other. 

"Logan?" You call softly. Both of the men turn to you. 

"Can we just talk?" They look at each other and slowly retract their claws. 

After getting both of them to calm down the other guy explains exactly how he got there. He's from another universe, another time. He was pulled from his world into this one by an asshole with a stupid face and red suit. His stupid friend was messing with a little time machine thingy he stole and now he's here. That was his summary of things. You...tried to grasp it. You live in a world with mutants so time travel and universe hopping wasn't exactly strange. But to see another Logan. He also keeps glancing at you. 

Every time he does James, you've decided to start calling your Logan by his childhood name to make it easier, James tightens his grip on your hand. The way this other Logan looks at you, they're such sad eyes. He must have had a you in the other universe. 

"You can stay with us for a while, until you can get back to your time." You offer sweetly. 

"Thank you sweetheart." Logan's hands twitch, like he wants to reach out for you but he doesn't. James reluctantly gets up, pointing to the spare room and keeping his eyes on Logan's every move. 

"Don't drink my liquor." James mumbles as he heads to your bedroom. 

"He's the anchor being, really?" Logan whispers but you catch him. 

"What was that?" Logan freezes and turns to you.

"Nothing sweets," He flashes a smile you know he's lying. This Logan has the same tell as your own. 

"Who am I? In your world?" You ask curiously. Logan's face drops and he seems to close up. 

"No one, just a friend." He stalks to his room and closes the door behind you. Sighing you wonder what you've got yourself into now.

Living with two wolverines was not easy. Especially for you. They didn't get along and you had to play peacemaker. It was exhausting. Logan was nice enough to you but closed off and James was pissed off and protective. You were worried they'd slit each other's throats.

Plus...it was hard living with two Logan's when they were both ridiculously attractive. You never wanted anyone else but James. But this was just confusing. He was James but he wasn't but he looked like him and fuck he was ripped. James had a body to envy but so did Logan.

You were ashamed to admit you thought about Logan, just a little bit. You never let it go far but your dreams ran wild. They were hot and dirty and you woke up feeling soaked and guilty. You didn't say a word to James or Logan. What good could come of that? But they're perceptive men and you could feel Logan's eyes on you in the mornings. James' too. You couldn't escape them forever.

You should have known something was up the moment you walked through the front door and saw both boys sitting together in the living room. Normally they'd stay far away from each other.

"Hi..." You say suspiciously as you set down the grocery bags. 

"Come here." James pats his lap and you walk over. He pulls you down onto his knee and smashes his lips onto yours. You can't help but moan as his hand squeezes your ass. 

"James!" You moan as you try to push him away. You look over at Logan who was watching with hungry eyes. Licking his lips as his eyes trail up and down your body. 

"We had a talk sweetheart," Logan's voice is deep and primal as he stands up and grabs your chin.

"We both know what you want. The old man over here can't fuck you the way you want to be fucked." James tightens his grip on your waist as Logan flirts up a storm. 

"I...James I-" You look at James with a guilty look on your face. 

"It's okay honey, I want you to feel good." He says while glaring at Logan. He isn't going to just hand you over, but he knows you crave to be destroyed, ruined and he can't do that for you anymore. So reluctantly, he's going to let his other self fuck you. 

"Rule one. You don't get to come inside." James situates you on his thigh. Slowly rocking you on it until you're squirming. 

"Rule two. She says stop, you stop." Logan eyes your cleavage with a hungry look. 

"And rule three. You don't get to kiss her." He says possessively. 

Logan rolls his eyes but agrees to the terms. The three of you head to the bedroom. James sits on a chair facing the bed. He groans as his bones creak. You shoot him a worried look but he waves you off. Unbuttoning his pants and letting his cock free. Logan pulls your focus as he leaves hickeys up your shoulder, sucking on a particular spot on your neck. 

"Shit.." You groan. How did he know that was your sweet spot? You don't have much time to think as you hear a claw come out. Logan waits and you nod your head. He cuts through your clothes and they fall to the floor in shreds.

"Fuck." Logan groans as his hands trail up your body. Your bare skin drives him nuts. He closes his eyes as he takes his time exploring. Committing your body to memory, each curve and dip. 

"Missed this." He whispers softly for only him to hear. 

"Lay down sweetheart." Logan hums and you obey. Crawling onto the bed as Logan sheds his yellow suit. Your eyes trail down his built chest to his already hard cock. 

"Damn." 

"As big as your boyfriends over there?" Logan says with a smirk. 

He kneels onto the bed and grabs your legs, putting them around his waist as he bends down and goes back to biting your neck. Your nails dig into his biceps as you buck your hips. His cock presses against your thigh as he moves down your body. Stopping at your breasts, squeezing and teasing one of your nipples while sucking on the other. You whine when he bites down. Licking over the spot he bit. 

"Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He smiles through his apology. He moves down your stomach and rests himself in between your legs. 

"Let's see how sweet you taste." You gasp as he buries himself into your cunt. His hands locking you in place, not letting you move against his pleasurable assault. 

"Logan!" You moan as you claw at his hair. Raking your hands through it until you find a grip. Pulling on it only eggs him on. His tongue moves against your clit over and over again. He refuses to let up as your moans get louder. You try to move but Logan growls like an animal. 

"Don't fucking move." He licks his lips as he raises his head. He looks over to James and smirks. 

"I see why you're so protective, wouldn't want to share a girl as sweet as this either." You look over to James who was slowly stroking his cock. It was painful watching another man feast on his cunt but he can see how much you're loving it. 

"Play with your tits." James commands as Logan goes back down. 

You listen and slowly play with your nipples. Squeezing your breasts and arching your back when Logan sticks his tongue into your cunt. Fuck he knows what he's doing.

"I can't- fuck! I-" Your back arches high as Logan sucks on your clit. 

He doesn't let up. One of his hands lets go of your thigh and his thumb presses on your clit. His tongue is now moving to your cunt. You roll your hips as Logan fucks you with his tongue and rubs your clit with his thumb.

It's a deadly combination that leaves you helpless. You come around his tongue hard. He groans as you leak around him. Licking up the sweet taste until he's satisfied. As you start to relax you feel Logan's tongue back on your clit. 

"Fuck!" You gasp in surprise as he places himself back on your cunt. 

"Too much! Can't take it!" You claw at the sheets but Logan pays no mind. 

"You can take it, always have you crying on my face." James says huskily. 

He wants a taste, mouth watering at the sinful sounds of your went pussy. Tears threaten to fall as Logan shoves two fingers into your cunt. He fucks you like he knows you, curling his fingers just how you like it. The sounds of your cunt get louder as he roughly fingers you. 

"One more come on, fuck give me one more." Logan props himself on his elbow as he pistons his fingers into you. 

"No No I can't." You cry. You don't want him to stop but it's so overwhelming. It's too much pleasure. 

"Yes you can." Logan cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear. 

"I got you," Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you come again. Your cunt clenching around his fingers as soak his hand. Both of them watch in awe as you make a mess. 

"Knew you could take it." Logan takes his fingers out and sucks them clean. He eyes James who hasn't taken his eyes off your cunt. 

"Want a taste old man?" You look over with pleading eyes at your boyfriend. You need him too. He winces as he stands up but leans down and gets between your legs. 

"Shh baby, just want a taste." James squeezes your thighs softly.

Your cunt twitches as he leans down and takes a fat lick up. You're on edge from your previous orgasms and it's borderline painful. Both men look up at you when you gasp. 

"I'm okay, just please be gentle." Your lips form into a small pout and James melts. 

"Course baby," He takes a few soft licks and you sigh as Logan strokes his cock. 

He takes your hand and wraps it around his cock. Fuck he's big and hard and leaking over your hand. You can't help but notice it's different from your Logan too. But you keep that thought to yourself. James grunts as he gets back to his feet. His beard slick with your juices. He slips two fingers into your cunt and pumps them slowly. 

"Did so good, baby." He praises and you smile. You bite your lip and close your eyes as you take in James' thick fingers. They work you like magic, he knows you inside and out. 

"Are you gonna take my cock now sweetheart?" Logan purrs in your ear. 

"Tell me, what dirty fantasies do you have up there." Your breath catches in your throat as he cups your breasts in his hands. 

"Any positions you want to try? Face down ass up is always a favorite of mine, or I can put your legs on my shoulders and press you into the mattress." You moan just picturing each scenario in your head. 

"I can hold you against the wall. Bounce you on my cock so you're forced to take every inch of me.

"Even better, we can do all three." Logan lets go of you and nods his head, telling James to go sit down. James takes his fingers out and brings them to your lips, pushing them into your mouth as you suck on them like he trained you to do. 

"You okay?" James asks and you nod. 

"M'alright baby, are you okay?" You reach up and grab his hand, squeezing it gently. Is he still okay with this? If he's too uncomfortable you'd stop but he just smiles. He leans down and kisses your head, then moves to sit back down. 

"You've been talking a lot of shit bub." James says gruffly as Logan nudges his cock at your cunt. You're on your back with Logan pressing your hands into the mattress. 

"Don't worry old man, I'll take care of her." He slides in and you moan. He's going too slow, relishing with every inch.

"Faster!" You beg but Logan doesn't listen. Instead he pushes all the way in, balls deep and throbbing just being in your sweet cunt. 

"Oh fuck yeah." Logan purrs as he draws his hips back, slamming them back into you.

His pace is slow and hard. He watches your breasts bounce with each thrust, enjoying the way they move because of him. He's still got you pinned down and you want to move, you want to hold onto him as he fucks you but he won't let you. Logan's got stamina and it's clear as he doesn't let up. 

"Logan I-" He growls and pulls out much to your dismay. Manhandling you to your knees, grabbing your neck and forcing you to look right at James. You couldn't meet his eyes as Logan sinks back into you. 

"Ah ah, don't you want him to see how good you feel?" Logan says in a mocking tone. Smirking as he sees the fire lit in James' eyes.

"It's okay baby." James says as your head falls down to the comforter. Logan's just so big. He's overpowering all of your senses. He just keeps going and going. Logan tilts his head back as he digs his fingers into your hips. 

"Such a tight fucking cunt." He presses your face into the bed and grabs a handful of your ass. Pounding his hips into your pussy and loving every little noise he's fucking out of you. 

"She likes it when you choke her." James says, his breath ragged as he watches you get fucked. Logan chuckles and puts his hand around your neck.

"Of course she does, such a dirty little whore you got on your hands." His mouth is filthy, the degradation pouring from his mouth with ease.

James mixes his praise with his meanness but Logan is pure filth. The pressure on your throat sends you into fucking orbit. A fat cock pounding your sweet spot and rough hand on your throat is lethally delicious. You could die happy. 

"That's it, just let me use you sweetheart. Doesn't that sound fun? Being my little toy? Our little toy?" You look at James who's perked up at the mention of him, your cunt clenching around Logan's cock. 

"Oh that got you interested huh?" Logan teases. 

"You can be our plaything sweetheart, just nothing but a couple holes for us to use. Big man over here can stick his cock down your throat while I get the back." Logan rubs his hand along your ass, his thumb trailing down until its teasing your asshole. 

"He ever been in here before?" 

"O-Once." You mewl as he presses his thumb, not breeching you yet but knowing he could if he wanted to. 

"Is it as tight as her cunt?" He asks James. 

"Even tighter." James spreads his legs, he was getting hot. He sheds his jacket and unbuttons his white button up. Being this old and still ripped was so fucking unfair. His pants were already at his ankles and his cock was stirring just remembering that day.

How you cried and whined as he prepped you with his fingers. How fucking tight you felt when he slid his cock in. You were a mess, babbling and whining and begging to be ruined. James opens his eyes and sees you staring at him. Hunger in your eyes as you take in your handsome boyfriend. You may be getting fucked by another man but you only ever want James. 

“Maybe next time." Logan moves his hands back up your body.

He sits back on his knees. His hands come to your breasts and pull you up so your back is against his chest. His cock somehow sits deeper as he bounces his hips up and down, spearing his cock deeper and deeper. One of his arms wraps around your waist while the other plays with your breasts. 

"Logan!" You chant over and over. He's grunting in your ear whispering dirty things that only you can hear. 

"I know you're loving this sweetheart, you may love the old man but you love my cock more." You whine, words failing you as you try and talk. You start to go limp in Logan's grasp so he tightens his hold. 

"Come for me sweetheart, go on." He purrs as he lets go of your breasts to pleasure your clit. Rubbing small circles until you're squirming out of his grip, or trying to.

"It's okay, I got you." Logan whispers as you tilt your head back into his shoulder. 

Eyes rolling back as you fully submit to the man. Your legs shake uncontrollably as you come harder than you have in a while. He holds you up as you melt, your vision blurring as you're sent to cloud nine. You were clawing at his arms, digging your nails into him until he bleed which only made things better for Logan as he humps you like a crazed animal. Grunting and groaning. 

"Fuck!" He lets go of you to pull out, whimpering at the loss of your wet cunt.

He's rough with his hand as he jerks himself until he comes all over your back. Hot cum spurting from his cock and drenching itself on your skin. Your eyelids are heavy as you collapse into the bed, your body aches with a delicious sort of pain. With all the energy you could muster you glance over at James. He had cum staining his chest, breath ragged. He was worn out just from watching. 

"I love you." You say softly, reaching out for him. Your hand doesn't make it very far so he meets you halfway. His pants pulled up and cum still on his stomach. 

"Feel good baby?" He pets your head and you nod sleepily. Logan has gone off to take care of himself. Redressing into that god awful suit and coming back with a towel. 

"Can I?" He looks over at James who nods. Gently he wipes his cum off your back, cooing when he accidently stimulates your clit again. 

"Sorry sweetheart, just gotta get you nice and clean." Logan looks at James before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

James doesn't argue. Once you're cleaned up James tucks you into bed. He sits on the edge as you curl into his lap. Logan comes back with water and a towel for James. You're sound asleep by the time he's back. Logan smiles at you with a fondness that James can only recognize as love. 

"You know her." Logan looks up and shrugs. "Heard her say she was just a friend. You were lying." James continues. He knows Logan was lying because they're one in the same. They may not like each other but they knew each other better than anyone ever could, even you. 

"Look. You may think your life is fucking miserable but you had your family, you have her. You don't know how lucky you have it." Logan growls. 

"Lucky? You think becoming a shell of who we were is lucky?" James feels the anger surging inside of him. 

"At least she's alive in your world." Logan hisses. The truth comes out. Why Logan worked you like he already knew you, why he looked at you with such sad eyes. Why he listened to you. James caught all of it from the start but you never did. He looks down at you and you barely stir. 

"What happens to us, in the future?" James asks while staring at you. Timelines don't need two of the same man and he knows that. He just needs to hear it. "I don't think I'm supposed to say." Logan mumbles. 

"Who fucking cares?" Sighing Logan looks over at you before revealing the truth. 

"You die and your world starts to fall apart, that's why I got pulled into it."

James knew that death was coming. He could feel it. He had been slowly dying his whole life. That's not what bothers him. There's only one thing holding him back in being ready for the end. You. He can't leave you alone but it sounds like he does anyway. Failing you once again. 

"What about her? Is she okay?" 

"Yes.” James nods, he doesn’t ask what happens. He doesn’t want to know. As long as you’re okay then that’s all that matters. 

“Take care of her. Please.” James asks, for once letting Logan see his gruff façade break. 

It feels like an odd request. Both of them know it, but he wants you to be safe and protected and no one will love you more than him. In any timeline, any universe, he loves you. 

“I will.” Logan promises.

The two of them don’t share many words after that. It’s not like they’re suddenly friends now but they’re less hostile towards each other.

Eventually the strange yellow portal appears once again and Logan leaves. The time he spent here feels like a fever dream. Maybe it was? But you notice that James holds you a little tighter for a little longer now. He also rests a little easier. He knows where he’s headed, what’s to come.

But its a little easier knowing that no matter what, you’ll always have him. 

[cognitiveoverload]

The secret is out (Aaron Hotchner x fem!BAU!reader)

summary: You and Hotch have been dating for half a year in secret. When the team decides it's time to help Spencer ask you out during the Christmas dinner you host for them, Hotch realizes that it might be time to tell the truth.

note: Takes place after Hotch's divorce, but before Haley's death.

The whole Christmas dinner is the result of a chain reaction. You invited Penelope, who invited Derek, who invited Spencer, who invited JJ, who invited Emily, who invited Dave, and finally, Dave invited Hotch. And to make things worse, this time there is a plan—the plan to help Spencer make the first move and finally ask you out. 

When Dave tells Hotch about it in the car on the way to the dinner, he smiles and acts like it’s adorable. Normally, it would be exactly that. They all love Spencer, they all want him to be happy, but considering Hotch only left your apartment this morning, he isn’t the right person to ask for help with this. This only makes him wonder if you should make your relationship official, if you should tell the team that the two of you have been seeing each other for over half a year now. 

“The early birds,” you say with a warm smile when you open the door and let them inside.

Dave glances down at his watch for a brief moment, then, as he walks past you, he speaks up. “I guess it means we’re the first ones.” When you hum in agreement, he stops and turns to look at the other man. “I told you we’re gonna be way too early.”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to tell him it wasn’t his idea to come together. He’s here exactly when he wanted to arrive, it’s not his fault that Dave decided to tag along. With a forced smile, he shrugs and shows you the two bottles of wine he brought as a gift. “Is there a wine cooler somewhere?” he asks casually.

You close the closet where you put their coats, then turn back to nod. “My parents love wine, so of course they have one,” you reply with a short laugh. “Not like they were alcoholics, they just… you know.” Hotch has to fight hard to keep his emotions in check, but you notice. You always notice. “Oh, sure, I’ll lead the way,” you say, signaling him to follow you. 

Since you made sure Dave was occupied with the photos in the living room, you quickly take the bottles from Hotch to put them in the cooler, then return to him with a seductive smile. “I missed you.” He leans closer, his lips almost touching yours as he speaks, knowing perfectly well this most probably makes your heart rate jump. “I’m sorry, Dave insisted on coming with me.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a loving smile.

These are one of those rare occasions when Hotch can loosen up, getting lost in the moment, so he doesn’t hesitate to close the gap and kiss you gently, letting his arm sneak around your waist as he pulls you closer. He knows he has to warn you, and he knows you should know how he feels about that plan, but it’s so good to have you like this again. You’re like a drug, and he loves the high you give him, and each time he tastes your lips, he just knows you should make your relationship official.

As stupid as it is, he wants to let everyone know that you’re his, he wants to mark his territory, and if he has to face the wrath of his team for hiding something like this, so be it. Because whenever he sees you interact with his son, he knows this is what he wants, and not just with Jack, but with a child that’s yours entirely. This is what’s been on his mind lately, and the thought is driving him crazy.

“There’s something I want to discuss with you,” he speaks up as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

But before he could go on, you hear Dave clear his throat in the door, and when you both turn to look at him, he’s watching you with a knowing smile. “I wanted to tell Hotch we left the gifts in the car, but I guess I’ll bring them in myself since he’s busy at the moment,” he announces teasingly. 

Hotch lets you go and takes a step closer to his colleague. “Dave, I can explain,” he says, knowing he should give an explanation. After all, he’s your boss, you’re a lot younger, and he just agreed to help Spencer ask you out a good half an hour ago. It probably doesn’t look good from the outside. 

Smiling, Dave shoves his hands into his pockets. “No need to explain, I’ve seen enough. The best you can do now is laying your cards on the table when we’re all together. Spencer really likes her, and tonight everyone will be doing their best to get them together. Just be honest,” he tells the two of you, then turns around to leave the house.

You wrap your arms around his body and bury your face into his chest, and he lets out a sigh before placing a kiss on the top of your head. “He’s right, we need to tell them,” he says softly, leaning back just enough to look you in the eye. 

“Okay,” you agree weakly. 

For a few moments you watch him with those big, doe eyes, which brings back his earlier thoughts. “There’s something I want to tell you before Dave returns,” he begins, his voice carrying the kind of uncertainty and vulnerability that he only allows to have around you. When you hum to make him continue, he exhales slowly to prepare himself. “I would like to have another child. With you.”

At first, you don’t react at all, as if the statement completely froze your brain. But then you slowly blink at him, your lips slightly parting as you take a breath. “A baby?” you ask quietly, earning a nod in response. 

“I know we haven’t been together for that long, but I know that I love you. Sure, we don’t have to start the baby project right away, I understand if you’re not ready,” he assures you.

A sweet smile slowly appears on your lips as you stand on your toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I love you too, Aaron. And maybe having a little kid together isn’t such a bad idea,” you say kindly. But then the sweet smile shifts into a wicked one. “Can you stay the night? I hate to be alone in this stupidly big house, and I think I’ll be too lazy to drive home after dinner.” 

There’s something else, something you’re not telling him, and it takes him a moment to realize what it is. “Oh, wait, you mean…? Tonight?” he asks, unable to hide the confusion that slowly mixes with excitement. 

With an adorable giggle, you take his hand and lace your fingers. “Why not? Unless you have better plans,” you add, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“If you’re serious about this, I won’t have better plans until we have a positive test,” he states before kissing you again.

“I think they’re looking for glasses in the kitchen.”

Hotch is quick to step away from you, grateful that Dave gave you a chance to find an excuse for being there alone. So, without much hesitation, you point at a cabinet and then move to another where your parents keep the coffee mugs. He takes out enough glasses for everyone, then heads to the dining room with them. He can see JJ and Dave discussing something, and she flashes a smile at him when their eyes meet.

“She’s in the kitchen?” JJ asks him, to which he replies with a nod. “I’ll see if she needs more help then.”

When she disappears, Hotch stands in front of Dave with an uncertain look on his face. “Thanks for the warning. We discussed this whole thing, and we’ll tell the team once everyone’s here. This is for the best,” he says. 

The other man lets out a short breath with an amused smile, but he doesn’t say a word–not yet. But then, at the moment they hear a car stopping, followed by the sound of a cheerful conversation, he finally opens his mouth to speak. “You’ll have to talk to HR about this.” Hotch nods. He’s painfully aware of that conversation. “But you both look happy, and if you’re both happy, I’m happy too.”

A sigh of relief escapes his lips upon hearing this. It’s good. You have at least one person in your corner. 

Within a matter of seconds the remaining guests appear, smiling happily as they balance the wrapped gifts in their hands. Once the newcomers settle down, Hotch shepherds everyone into the living room, deciding that this is the perfect time to make the announcement, before the little schemers set their plan into motion. You look a little uncertain, but he doesn’t want to let you feel like that. He stands next to you, but he avoids physical contact for now. 

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all before we sit down to eat up all the food our generous host prepared,” he begins, and out of the corner of his eye he can see you roll your eyes. “You know me, you know I usually respect the regulations, but a few months ago I crossed a line I shouldn’t have. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret it, and I don’t want to stop after this conversation we’re having now. I just wanted you to all know that we started to date a few months ago,” Hotch says as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

Surprise, surprise, a little more surprise, and then there’s the look of betrayal on Spencer’s face. He avoids your gaze, and he doesn’t look at his boss either, but that’s okay, he didn’t expect him to start cheering. This might be tough for him, but he’ll get over it for sure. But the others soon turn supportive; they start to tease them, they come up with jokes, and some even begin to dig deeper to get some more details out of you two. You quickly loosen up enough to answer them, but Hotch doesn’t let you do the talking alone, he’s staying by your side the whole time to support you. 

You’re a little team of two now. Hopefully, you’ll be the mother of his youngest child in the future. It’s his duty to always protect you.

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

[smallestapplin]

A sweet treat

Saw @/tom-foolery-incorporated’s swerve post here, and this wouldn’t leave my head (also check him out! They’re so cool, and writing is so great im feral for it.)

Anyway, Pussy-whipped Swerve and his human lover.

Minors do not interact!

-

-

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You can’t breathe, your body can only quake sat on top of your lover’s face. Swerve’s large servos on your hips holding you in place, refusing to let you get off him. His face plate is covered in your juices fr the countless orgasms he’s pulled frm you, but it’s still not enough for him, it’s never enough.

“S-swerve….fuck, fuck it’s too much..!” Your hands on his helm, unsure if you want to grind against his glossa or pull away.

His blue visor glows in the low light of his habsuite, seemingly never taking his optics off you. You fall forward, barely catching yourself as his dermas suck on your clit, before his glossa is lapping at the new gush of slick. Your thighs tremble, feeling his moan against your sensitive cunt.

His spike is so hard, having overloaded a handful of times himself, he can’t help it, you taste so so good! He could live between your thighs and be one happy bot. His own hips buck up, humping the air, desperate for any form of relief but refusing to move from his spot.

“C’mon sweetspark, just one more, just need a lil more, yeah? Primus, I love you, love this pretty valve of yours.” Swerve mutters, kissing your pussy wetly.

How many times had it just been ‘one more’? It feels like hours he’s been devouring your wet heat, licking up every last drop of your cum as if it’s the best meal he’s ever had. Your eyes widen, slowly fluttering back as Swerve pushes his glossa into your clenching hole, his nose digging into your clit as he tries to push his helm further between your thighs.

It’s too much, it’s too hot! You’re sweating and drool, your vision going white once more with a loud squeal of his name. Your legs shaking, desperately trying to close around his helm. His glossa is so thick, filling you out nicely, but not nearly as much as his spike would.

“Swerve…..please, just fuck me already.”

Your whine makes his tremble, spike throbbing and leaking more transfluid. Oh he wants to, he wants to fuck you so badly, fill your pussy with his transfluid over and over and over again, frag both of you stupid until he’s all you can think about and vice versa.

To have your small squishy body under him, legs folded near your head making your take his spike down to the hilt, it’s all he wants!

But your valve is right above him, letting him see up close what his touches and needy licks have been doing to you, and he gets to taste you! What more could he want.

He’s torn, but how could he pick when you’re right there?

“Just…just one more, I promise just overload on my intake one more time and I’ll frag you good, okay?”

It’s always just one more.

But how can you deny him when he looks so smitten? He loves your pussy so much, how could you take it away from him?

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #34)

Chapter #34. What's this? ✨🎄Has Christmas come early?🎄✨ Nope, it's still tomorrow, but hey, while you wait for Santa to visit, you can read about tiny little grumpy guys! In this chapter, Nat makes a mess, Alexander's mad about it, and someone draws blood. This is sounding like every other day in their lives at this point.

Previous: Chapter #33

Next: Chapter #35

Word Count: 4,192 Read Time: Approx. 40 mins

CW: Blood? I guess? It's like a drop of blood, people. Don't worry!

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #33: Kinstugi

[Natalie’s POV] 

I’d kissed him. And the second I did it, all I’d wanted was to do it again. He’d been so warm lying there in my hand as he slept. His mess of hair, no bigger than my fingernail, was so soft on the surface of my skin. I recalled the electric feeling that had pulsed through the tip of my finger when I glided it over the length of his back, trying so hard not to wake him. 

Over the time I’d had with him, I’d gotten used to learning how to handle and interact with someone so much smaller. How to temper my voice when I was near to not startle or overwhelm him. I’d had to memorize the right amount of pressure to pinch beneath his arms so he didn’t slip through my fingers, without bruising his skin. I’d learned how to keep my fingertips steady when trying to brush a stray lock back in place on his head, or to tap his shoulder without too much force when I needed his attention, and he was wholly engrossed in whatever he was reading. 

Though he was never particularly fond of being handled, I swelled with pride thinking about how much more relaxed he was now, cradled in the palms of my hands, than when we’d first met. 

I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears just thinking about those icy blue eyes gazing up at me from inside my gentle grip. 

I was now in a similar position to admire him, as I sat up in bed, my feet touching the carpet below. I leaned over my bedside table, taking in the sight of a man, snuggled up on his own little mattress, not much bigger than the palm of my hand. 

He slept peacefully, curled into himself with his head resting on his tucked arm, his other, draped over his side and dangling just off the edge of the bed. His covers, once pulled taught over his shoulders, had been kicked past his knees, gathered in a lump at the foot of the bed. His hair fell in his closed eyes, his lips, tinier than any part of me, were left slightly open, his chest rising and falling a fraction of an inch with each breath.

What a brilliant mind and a brave little heart. How did he not just fall apart? I couldn’t imagine life in his position. How unfair it was. How constantly humiliating. I would’ve probably just laid down and died by now, if I were in his shoes. 

You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?

As I gazed down, he twitched in his sleep, his nose crinkling slightly as his fist clenched and relaxed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath. His fitful movements reminded me so much of that first time I’d set him down in the drawer on that stupid, fuzzy, pink sock. I could recall him begging to be left out on the desk and me not even bothering to listen. God, so much had changed between now and then. 

As I watched, he tucked his arms closer to his chest, his brow furrowing even more, while his lips turned down slightly into a grimace. He slid his feet further down the length of the bed. It took my eyes a moment, because the movements were so tiny, but the little twitches of his body, I realized, were actually him shivering from the cold. 

Without hesitation, I pinched the fabric on either side of his bed, and gently lifted the covers, lowering them back down over his shoulders. He immediately gripped the comforter, curling into a ball, still trembling. 

You know, I have a much warmer place where you can sleep… 

The thought came instantly, and surprised even me. I could picture him, clear as day, nestling inside my chest, bright blue eyes peering up at me before curling up and falling asleep there. The image alone made my face burst with color and I couldn’t help but draw my hand back in a flinch of embarrassment. 

As my left hand recoiled, my fingers knocked the corner of his bedside table, kicking it off balance, and sending its contents sliding to the wooden ‘floor’ below. 

CRASH!!!!

The tiny ceramic mug and saucer shattered on impact. 

Shit!

He jolted upright, brow furrowed, eyes wide and chest heaving. As guilt washed over me for waking him so suddenly, I sat there, frozen and dumbfounded.

He looked around himself, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes flashed quickly to the floor below, now littered in ceramic fragments, but they soon wandered, to his left, where, caught in the act, my right finger and thumb still clutched his comforter and lingered dangerously close to him. 

He looked back down at the mess, back to my fingers, and then for the briefest moment, locked eyes with me, before turning away swiftly. I couldn’t help the heat rising to my cheeks as we both pretended not to notice the awkward tension in the room. He’d clearly made up a narrative in his mind for what had just happened. I tried to say something in my own defense, but the words just stuck behind my clenched jaw. 

As if on cue, we both frantically tried to busy ourselves with cleaning up the little broken pieces of ceramic. 

Alexander swung his legs over the side of the bed, but before resting his feet on the floor, I sucked air between my teeth, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Careful! I don’t want you to step on any of the pieces!” 

He rolled his eyes, firmly planting himself on the floor with gusto, and rising to standing, “I’m not blind, Natalie, I can see where and where not to watch my step perfectly well, all by myself.” 

I sighed, trying not to take it personally. Turning my attention to the task at hand, I licked the tip of my finger and pressed the pad down on the first tiny piece, before a little voice cut in down below.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Was that some sort of trick question? “… Just picking these pieces up?” 

“Are you coating them in your saliva? Don’t do that. That’s disgusting! Are you not going to reassemble it later?” 

As someone who was supposedly not blind, how could he not see that this tiny mug was smashed to oblivion? 

“Dude, these pieces are absolutely tiny, how else am I supposed to pick them up?” 

He huffed, clearly dissatisfied with my answer,  “Get out of the way, just let me do it.” He took an unsteady few steps forward, careful to avoid the sharp pieces, before batting at my fingers and shooing me off. 

Seeing I wasn’t budging, he ignored me and bent down to pick up a piece. I could see it pained his knee. I winced. 

“Hey, don’t strain yourself—“ 

“I’m fine, stop worrying about me all the time…” he reached for a particularly gnarly piece with a razor’s edge point. I couldn’t help myself, I swooped in and pinched it between my fingers before he could.

“Hey!!” He scowled, clearly incensed. 

“I’m just saying, this is super sharp… it looks awfully big compared to your hands. It’s easier if you just let me…” as I held it before him, comparing his size to it, his hands flew up to snatch it from me. 

I pinched the piece tighter between my thumb and my forefinger, just as he wrapped his little fist around it. His brow arched, as he scowled up at me. 

“Let go!” He pulled back, hard, but his little effort did nothing to sway me. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, I just don’t want you to accidentally—“ not listening to me, he pulled on it again, this time really leaning his weight against me. I could see him boil as he couldn’t so much as move me an inch. I pulled back in response, not hard. Or at least, I didn’t think so, but it broke his grip anyway, and he lost his balance, falling backwards as he let go of the piece. I gasped. 

Too far now to fall back on the mattress, his arms swung in the air as he tried to steady himself. I slipped my free hand behind him just in time for him to collapse into the cup of my palm. I muttered my sincere apologies as he recovered against the wall of my hand. 

He grimaced at me, “Don’t want me to what? Accidentally cut myself??” His face broke into a self-satisfied grin, as he crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, down to my fingertip. 

Having successfully wrestled the piece from his tiny grip, and being distracted by his fall, I hadn’t noticed that the sharp little edge had managed to slice my finger open, and a bead of crimson liquid now bubbled to the surface. 

“Mmm, what was that, again? You were worried I might accidentally hurt myself??” He was over the moon. 

“Okay, alright.” I sighed. He kept beaming up at me, his crooked little smile lighting up his features. I kept going at his insistence, “You win. You were right. I should’ve shut up and just let you do it.” 

“Will you repeat that again and let me record it?” 

Little nightmare. I broke into a grin, shaking my head, “You were right. You’re almost always right. I should listen to you more often, but I’m just a big dumb, clumsy human. There, ya happy?” 

He pushed himself up and away from my hand, eyes gleaming. He was about to retort when I noticed the drop of blood was about to overflow and drip down the side of my finger. Letting the ceramic piece clatter back down to the table I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked to staunch the blood. 

Upon seeing this his face twisted in disgust, “Again, with the licking! Stop with the licking. That’s disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

I smiled, arching my brow. Taking my finger out, I addressed him again, “Oh? What did you say? You think this is gross?” I approached him with my spit covered finger. 

He shifted his weight back, on the defense, “Natalie… don’t you dare…” 

I kept coming closer, “What about this is gross??” He backed away as I kept closing in the space. 

He’d retreated as far as he could, when he collapsed on the bed, trying to squirm away. Getting desperate, he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me, of course it had no more consequence than a cotton ball. Then he threw the other. He was mumbling protests, warning me not to get any closer, but I could see the smile that briefly played on his lips before he tried to hide it behind a deeper scowl. 

Before he could scramble over the opposite side of the bed, I’d managed to almost pin him against the headboard, my fingertip floating just an eighth of an inch or so over his chest. 

Suddenly, looking at him, sprawled on the bed, little ribcage heaving as his neck arched, his eyes wide and his breath panting, I felt like we weren’t just playing a stupid game anymore. The air between us was electrified, and I could feel the heat rise in my face. He flushed too, swallowing hard, gripping the sheets beneath him into balled fists. 

Then suddenly, “Y-you’re bleeding again…” his voice was strained, tight. 

Shit. He was right. I pulled back, cradling my finger to keep blood from spilling. I crossed away from him and grabbed a bandaid from the bathroom, making sure to wash my hands before I returned to the bedside. 

He was right where I’d left him, though his posture was slightly more relaxed. He watched quietly while I struggled to open the packaging with one hand, that smug little grin still on his face. 

I ignored him, all while he stared on, delighting in my failure. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

Sighing in defeat, I offered him the bandaid and my mess of a finger. He sat up, eyes aglow. I was never gonna hear the end of this was I? 

He gripped the paper package between two hands and with some effort, managed to rip it in two. Then, taking my bloodied finger in his lap, he rested his whole hand over the top of the bandaid, keeping it in place on my wound, while he reached beneath and pulled at the tab. He ripped it away in one graceful motion, even if it took him the entire length of his arm to do it. Then, he tackled the other, switching hands. Without looking up, he addressed me. 

“… It’s best that I do this for you. If I’d left it up to you, it would be a crooked, uneven mess with irregularities and folds in the bandaging. And guess who has to deal with that, up close and personal, on a daily basis? Don’t flatter yourself, this is in my own best interest. I’m only doing this so I don’t have to have my skin forcibly exfoliated by uneven edges.” As he spoke, he very gingerly and precisely folded one adhesive edge along the side of my finger, and then the other, wrapping them neatly with no overlap. I could feel my heartbeat in my finger tip, as it quickened. 

It wasn’t often that he touched me. Not willingly and not for this long. He checked his work with nimble fingers, and seeming satisfied, he held my finger between his two hands, before looking up at me. 

Suddenly, he let go, casting his gaze down and clearing his throat, “Done.” He mumbled simply. It was as though he only noticed the intimacy of his actions after the fact.

“Alexander?” I gently guided his chin with the tip of my thumb, “Thank you. That was very sweet of you.” 

He went bright red, he shifted in his seat, “That wasn’t— I’m not sweet. I told you I did it to benefit myself.” It’s like he had an instant angry button.

Uh huh. I smiled at him. His brow furrowed. 

“What??” He snapped, “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

“Always gotta be on the defensive, huh?” 

“Well in my experience with you, it’s highly necessary. Shall I harken back to just a minute ago when you tried to slather me in your spit??” 

“Alright, touché. Look. I’m sorry about accidentally waking you so suddenly…” 

He furrowed his brow as if to say, “…and?” 

“And for fighting you on cleaning up… And torturing you with germs. I owe you. It wasn’t exactly the best morning. I know we’ve got a lot of work to get back to…” 

“Yes, finally! I thought you’d never ask!” He sat up and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. 

“Wait—“ 

“Ugh!!! He groaned and immediately collapsed back against the bed. Always with a flair for the dramatic, with this one!

“Hear me out. I’d like to make it up to you with something I think you’ll be really excited about. Would you be willing to come with me out of the apartment for a little while?” 

************** 

Leave? As in… Outside? The last time we’d done that had been an utter disaster. 

Looking up at her face, though, that gleam of excitement in her eye, I couldn’t help feeling giddy too. This was new territory for me: Surprises. Well, I should say, surprises with positive connotations were a new phenomenon. 

I realized that even as recently as a few weeks ago, my stomach would’ve turned in knots at the very idea of allowing her to whisk me away to wherever she wished, and, being utterly powerless to stop her, filled with dread that it would culminate in some kind of sick joke, with me as the punchline. 

But… now?

I knew at my very core that I trusted her. Despite her stupid, tasteless jokes and misplaced worry, I knew her delight was genuine and that she really wanted to brighten my day. What a strange feeling to admit that to myself, even if only inside my own head. 

I trusted her. If she wanted to take me somewhere, I’d let her. If she told me it was worth looking forward to, I believed her. 

Did the concept of leaving these familiar walls behind for a world filled with unpredictable, disagreeable and altogether unintelligent humans frighten me? Though I’d never admit it out loud, the answer was yes. 

It was a big world out there. I knew that now more than ever before. 

But I’d be okay. 

I chose to trust.

I swallowed, “Okay.” I shook my head in the affirmative.

“Wow. Really??” 

“What? Do you want me to go or not?” 

“No, of course I want you to… I just. That was way easier than I thought. No interrogations? No million follow up questions? You’re like… cool with me just surprising you? You feeling alright?” 

“You act as though I’m some sort of rigid automaton incapable of deviation from the norm! I can be spontaneous when I choose to be. All I will say is that this had better be worth my time to pull me away from my work like this.” 

“The boring old case documents aren’t going anywhere, and I promise, you’ll love it. Get ready and I’ll meet you back here in a few, okay? Oh! And hold on…” She suddenly rose from the bedside and disappeared into the bathroom again. The sound of water running briefly hit my ears before she returned, a damp washcloth in hand. “Stay still…” she plucked up my two pillows, that had been tossed in self defense, between her fingers and set them aside, before clutching either side of my bed in a loose grip, and lifting it up off the table’s surface. I clung to the bed sheets as she suspended me and my entire bed in the air with little effort. She smiled at me, I tried to focus on keeping my heart rate down. 

Using the wash cloth, she carefully gathered all the shattered ceramic into a dusty pile. Once satisfied that the place where my bed usually lay was free of any debris, she set me back down. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

She pinched the pile of broken tea cup inside the towel and lifted it off the table, and after wiping with the damp edge for anything left, she looked satisfied, “That’s what we should’ve done in the first place, huh?” 

Then I wouldn’t have gotten to bandage your finger. 

The thought rose to the surface, unchecked. I used a hand to brush my hair out of my eyes and shake it off. It unfortunately didn’t dissipate until she finally rose from the bed to get ready. 

I wasn’t sure how much more my cardiovascular system could take these constant adrenaline spikes. I sucked in a clean lungful of air, before pushing to standing, and grabbing my crutch for balance this time, I made my way to my vanity to ready myself. 

As I washed my face, the cool water breathing fresh life into my pores, I couldn’t stop wondering just what she had planned. Was it another outdoor excursion, perhaps to a nearby park, to admire the snow on the trees? Or maybe something simple and domestic, yet still novel for me, like taking me to the grocery store and having me help her pick out her next recipe? I didn’t find the prospect of being around that many humans particularly thrilling. My mind was still abuzz when I heard her re-enter the room, her muted footsteps giving her position away, as she asked if I was ready. 

Now in a fresh pair of black joggers and a sky blue sweatshirt, (how I loathed the endless parade of elastic pants and thick, unflattering lounge wear) I turned to face her. She stood before and above me, her hands in the pockets of a lavender winter coat, a thick scarf spooled about her neck in circular layers. She laid her hand flat for me, and once I settled in the middle of her palm, my crutch over my lap, she lifted me up. She held me before her breast pocket, and my heart quickened again, remembering the recent, embarrassing bout with that region of her body. 

Still, traveling in there, where I could see and stay upright was much better than being shoved into a side pocket or purse. I shuddered at the thought. 

She pinched the breast pocket open, showing something else, shiny and plastic, stuffed inside. Seeing my confusion she clarified, “It’s a hand warmer, you know, to keep you nice and cozy…” 

I scoffed, “You don’t have to coddle me…” She pressed a thumb into my back and curled her fingers around me until my legs dangled free, as she held me about the middle. 

Slowly she lowered me into the pocket, as I continued, “I’m not that susceptible to— Oh- Oh my….” It felt amazing. 

Warmth radiated from the plastic packaging, creating a cocoon of comfort on all sides. My muscles relaxed immediately upon being fully placed inside. 

“Thought you’d like that…” She smiled to herself. Points to Natalie, she was right for once. “Come on, let’s go…” She smiled down at me. I nodded, hugging the fabric edge of the pocket to my chest as I folded my arms over the lip. She started to walk through the apartment and out the door. 

It filled me with far greater joy than I dared to admit to see the world from this incredibly high vantage point. It was much lower than her point of view, I knew, but it was still a significant upgrade for me. I used this marvel to distract me from the soft undulation of her body against my back and the thumping of her heart which I could still feel through the thick fabric of her clothes. 

She opened the door and we were greeted with an icy blast of wet, whipping wind. The second we were outside, the fingers of her left hand rested over the pocket, her index lightly caressing my elbow, “You alright? Warm enough?” The bare skin that was exposed to the elements was far from comfortable, but the rest of me was so delightfully warm that I answered in the automatic affirmative to her question. 

Soon we were sheltered from the elements inside her car. She was careful to adjust her seatbelt to keep it from crossing over me. Then, we were off, the machinery of the vehicle rumbling in the freezing air as she navigated the snow and ice on less traveled roads. 

I admit, the vibration of the car, the steady rhythm of the drum that was her heart, coupled with the delicious, manufactured warmth of the pocket made me extremely sleepy within just a few minutes of driving. I blinked hard. Fighting to stay awake. 

I woke up to her fingertip caressing my head, “Hey, good morning, Sleeping Beauty… we’re here.”  Who knows how long I’d been out. I squirmed in place, embarrassed I’d been so easily lulled to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and did my level best to wake up as she removed the key from the ignition and the great beast of machinery grew quiet. Using the textured fabric for purchase, I clamored my way back to an upright position. 

“Where’s here?” I choked out, the muscles of my face still coming to. I felt that sick twist in my stomach again. What was I about to walk into? 

Well, to put it more accurately, what was she about to walk me into? Did my palms feel sweaty? Was I nervous? Or excited? It was hard to tell. I craned my neck to look out the windshield, but it was no use. It was snowing again, in white, fluffy sheets, obscuring our view of anything beyond a few feet in front of the vehicle. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” What was it?? Why was she being so cryptic? I shouldn’t have been worried, should I? My heart thundered in my chest. 

In a blur, she exited the car, and we were thrust out into the storm, I braced for the snowflakes to sting my eyes, but when I opened them, I realized I was being shielded by a cupped hand. Thank you, Natalie. All I could see was down below: the length of her woolen coat, down, down further, far, far away to the snow crunching under her boots. What a long and terrible fall that would be. 

I watched as snow and concrete transitioned to the aluminum threshold of a door. The clear tinkering of a bell greeted us as those snowy boots landed on a maroon welcome mat and creaking hardwood floors. 

I could hardly take it anymore. Where were we?!? 

In the same breath, she lifted her hand away, revealing our location to my cautious and curious eyes. 

No... Way…

___________________________________________

Tag List

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[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

arcane s2 - review

okay so now that i have given my two cents on caitvi and i've had enough time to digest s2 of arcane, what do i think about the rest of it?

overall, i have mixed feelings about it. i didn't hate it but i feel like a lot of the themes and ideas were poorly executed, especially compared to s1.

(huge spoilers to arcane below!)

but let me start with the positives:

the animation OBVIOUSLY. huge props to the animators, s1 was already phenomenonal and s2 lived up to the hype, animation-wise. the fight scenes especially were just *mwah* chef's kiss.

the character designs were great. caitlyn looks a lot prettier with the middle parting. vi's emo phase is really hot. jinx's designs in the alternate universe and the finale were iconic. jayce's beard and disheveled look was just chef's kiss. jesus viktor was hot as fuck.

the voice actors did an amazing job obviously, and i didn't expect anything less from them.

jayce's and viktor's relationship was so good despite not having all that much screentime when you think about it. they interact in the beginning when viktor wakes up from his hex-coma and then reunite and fight and make up in the final few episodes. but because of their relationship that was built up in the first season, it all worked out smoothly and made for a very natural progression in their relationship.

jinx's redemption was pretty good. not the BEST but it was carried out well enough, especially in just 9 episodes. i didn't feel like it was rushed or undeserved. her sacrifice in the end was heartbreaking but it felt natural and not shoehorned in for some added angst.

and now for the negatives:

1. the pacing was really bad, in my opinion. they had only 9 episodes but they stuffed in so many subplots into this season that it felt overwhelming.

maybe i'm just stupid but i couldn't keep up with half of the stuff that was going on and some parts of the finale didn't make a whole lot of sense to me.

like the whole storyline with mel and ambessa and the black rose was a blur to me. i honestly don't know what happened in the end after ambessa dies.

the whole deal with singed and vander and whatnot was also really murky. like i get the overall premise but it was really hard for me to grasp every single detail.

maybe this is just a me problem and i'm too dumb to follow more than two storylines at the same time. but s1 already had a lot going on and it was still a tad bit easier to follow.

s2 was just crammed with a whole bunch of different characters pursuing different goals and facing different obstacles, 9 episodes weren't enough to give all of it a satisfying conclusion. and as a result, some of the arcs felt rushed and unfinished.

like what happened to the whole found family thing with sevika, jinx and isha? they were beginning to get closer and form a good relationship but then suddenly, sevika is pushed out of the image and we never see how she reacts to jinx and isha's death.

2. while i don't think that caitvi is abusive, i still don't think the ship was great. it was just super rushed and there is a grain of truth to what caitvi antis are saying.

like yeah, caitlyn being an enforcer and seeing nothing wrong with it was.. questionable. wasn't the whole point of s1 that enforcers were ruining the lives of the people in zaun? wasn't police brutality and classism the main theme of this series? how come vi's parents were killed by enforcers and she was unfairly imprisoned for years by enforcers, but somehow she ends up dating an enforcer?

before s2 came out, i expected caitlyn to give up her job after realizing how corrupt it was. i thought that would be the natural progression of her arc, especially since she's seen how much the people of the undercity has suffered at the hands of enforcers. but nope, she keeps her job and it's never addressed in the end.

i don't think that caitlyn hitting vi once out of frustration and once out of necessity makes her a domestic abuser. but i do think it's kind of icky for vi to end up in a relationship with an enforcer, and for the show to frame it in a semi-positive manner. it's not entirely romanticized but the problems with it aren't really addressed either.

3. i feel like the themes of classism wasn't as well addressed in this season as it was in the first one. the first season had a strong message and it stuck to it. the second season was all over the place and then suddenly, there's viktor and the whole glorious evolution or whatever, and the conflict between piltover and zaun is pushed aside.

i like that sevika becomes part of the council in the end but is she the only one representing the undercity? is one person enough to speak for all these people in zaun? at least it's true to real life, i guess.

overall, i felt like the message was a lot more murky in this season. this ties to my first complaint because while s1 had a lot of storylines too, they followed a common theme. war, classism, and how privilege and the lack thereof affects people. s2's storylines are just all over the place and none of them seem to follow a theme. at least some of them could have been discarded.

4. i briefly mentioned this before but the fact that jinx stops experiencing her hallucinations never made sense to me. especially after she accidentally killed silco, shouldn't they get worse? it is implied that she has schizophrenia and c-ptsd so i really don't understand how silco's death suddenly got rid of most of her symptoms.

she still sees and hears the hallucinations from time to time and her mental state is definitely far from stable, but it was still such a huge jump from her psychotic breakdown in the s1 finale.

so yeah, these are my thoughts about arcane s2. there were more pros than cons but the cons still outweigh the pros, simply because of how much impact they had on the plot.

i'm generally not one to demand more seasons or episodes out of a series where the writers have already told the story they wanted to tell, but arcane s2 was so rushed and so filled to the brim with different characters and storylines, i couldn't help but feel like it would have benefited from having more episodes to play everything out more slowly.

i still liked this series a lot and i enjoyed watching it, but i'm not blind to its flaws and i try not to be biased.

[mochinomnoms]

i just want to saw that you really cooked with the trey scenario and it’s been on my mind since you posted it. like imagine the banter between the two?? the way i would perceive every interaction i would have with him as condescending especially with his cute, infuriating smirk while he over on the side thinking of how to subtly get your heart (and how to sneak in a few baking puns too). smth smth trey shares a family recipe and we point it out and trey is deflecting hard.

-🪸

Im glad you liked it! I've been working at a bakery for a few weeks now and I was surprised at how little baking I do (which is none). 90% of the job is packaging the goods to sell in the store! So the idea just came to me while at work!

In all good fun, I think Trey would try to poke a bit of fun at you, though he does firmly believe in the superiority of a proper bakery versus a grocery store one. He'll acknowledge that he's biased, but not wrong.

But with the wrong tone and a prefect who woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, Trey is suddenly met with a one-sided rivalry that he could end with an apology, but...

Well, forgive him for this, but Trey finds it very funny and endearing how offended and angry you get. Especially when your immediate response is to challenge him to a bake off (which you lose, miserably).

It's such a deviation from your usual mannerisms. You're always polite, kind, and attentive, and the fact that he's the only one to rile you up over something that's really so trival is actually a bit fun to him. Trey has had to be a big brother figure for the last few years and regin in Riddle as best as he can, so it's nice to have a bit of fun.

You're just mad that this fedora wearing, broccoli-color haired, 5'11" asshole called your old job "pseudo baking". So what if he's technically right and you didn't bake anything from scratch yourself? That doesn't mean he gets to say it to your face without consequences!

Most of the banter is you giving Trey snide comments and him replying with amused, teasing remarks. Normally he wouldn't let this escalate to the level it's at now, but damn it you're awfully cute and it's actually a bit fun watching you scramble around in the kitchen to make simple cupcakes.

"I know the recipe! I just didn't have to make it since I did a later shift—BUT I still trained for baking stuff you know!"

"Sure. Of course, baking pre-made mixes right?"

"Oh fuck off. 'PRe-MaDe MIxeS—' shut the fuck up!"

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? It's fine if you did, you're a grocery store baker, after all. Sorry, sorry."

"No, you're not! You're fucking smirking! The audacity—I should use this spoon to smack that dumb smirk off your pretty face, you moth—"

You shut up pretty quick after your slip of the tongue, focused on the handwritten recipe card that looks like it's been passed down a few generations at this point. Trey's started to flush pink, though his smile is softer and more fond now, as he continues watching you in silence.

Like I said, he's having fun in his own way. You, on the other hand, are fighting off the heat in your face as you're wondering at what point you started finding his stupid face attractive.

[yozoshit]

I wish that would work on Pinterest

Cuz that app has the worst block version I have ever seen in my entire life and I'm not joking around

I have seriously blocked an anti who is both sex negative and sends death threats to m/f shippers for shipping m/f

That was two months ago yet I still see their post in my feed

Friendly reminder that I did not interact with them nor did I ever comment in their post for it to appear in my feed

It's because Pinterest is stupid and thinks that oh yeah this user who hates m/f ships and shit on m/f shippers deserve to be in the search for m/f ships in a specific fandom

That totally makes sense /s

Not going to talk about how the delete system also doesn't work for pins

Cuz people still can interact with it and you still can see it even if you deleted everything related to the pin

Be it the tags or the board or even just a simple delete

It goes to another person who saved it to a board so now you have to see it every single time someone liked it

God forbid you block and delete in the pin to board app and still see the shit you blocked and deleted

[also not gonna have another talk about how each update goes worse and worse ...]

Literally one of the single best things you can do is block antis. There is literally no scenario for it in which you lose.

They do not get to see any of your content. It protect you AND them, because why would they want to see your content unless they're intending to deliberately expose themselves in order to cry wolf or attack you?

You can't see their content. You get your tags and pages full of lovely anti-free content.

They get to sit in their own little cesspit full of other antis and content they're comfortable with. They only get to talk to other antis and have their content seen by other antis.

Win, win, win.

[cbk1000]

Sometimes I wonder why I was hired to my role, let alone recruited for it by my boss and the head of our department, because an analyst? That is some kind of smart person role. And I've never thought of myself as particularly analytical or a problem solver.

And then every day at work I have to interact with people who cannot handle the most basic of troubleshooting, who cannot figure out something that took me two seconds to solve, and who send me problems they can't resolve because they can't figure out to follow the chain of events leading up to the error and draw a conclusion, and I'm like, "Oh right; I forgot a lot of people are very dumb."

[heartorbit]

why is their name siffrin when you siff in the cold food and siff out hot eat the food

[smrtnik07]

i havent drawn anything worth posting in a while hi ^__^ erm..... are texans always this strange and unusual?

[moeblob]

I love Chris so much you guys.

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[sallymew4]

kids when they hear that their dad is back in town VS. kids when theyre hanging out with a conman that accidentally stole their wallet once

im not even joking btw

bonus heres me being crazy about them in dms ^^^