#& i have gone insane enough i do believe

[skunkes]

if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

[thekintsugikids]

i noticed the similarities between fnowae and pavlove about a year and a half ago?? something like that. and quite frankly, while i could panegyrize fob’s entire discography till the end of time, specifically hearing those songs back to back, hearing, “i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror,” followed by, “i’m just the man on the balcony, singing ‘nobody will ever remember me’” made me absolutely spiral. like…both songs feel like they’re about this heart wrenching, soul crushing loneliness and just wanting someone to understand, to feel the way you do, to just fucking get it already, but the difference is in the way they see that. the different perspectives.

to fully explain this i think it’s important to fully understand the amadeus of it all for which i cannot recommend enough zero’s post about fnowae.

to use some of their words/phrasing, the quote itself as the title…fascinates me. it is salieri (in this instance, pete) repudiating god, declaring him to be his mortal enemy from here on for having the nerve to bestow upon amadeus (patrick) such brilliance (and i will be referring to him as amadeus because that feels like it might be a little cleaner than calling him mozart throughout this whole Thing etc etc etc). to mock salieri’s mediocrity. he is so envious of amadeus that he feels amadeus’s gifts are a divine punishment from god himself. “from now on we are enemies, you and i.”

what does all of that have to do with pavlove, though? amadeus is the gifted one, whom salieri finds to be insufferably annoying, but staggeringly brilliant. indescribably so (the fact that they do eventually befriend one another, and when amadeus dies, it essentially drives salieri insane and many years later he even claims he murdered amadeus, despite the fact that amadeus was sick, having worked himself to exhaustion and death……all of that is another can of worms i don’t…i don’t have it in me to crack open right now). “nobody will ever remember me, rejoice and fall to your knees.” “i want to make you as lonely as me, so you can get addicted to this.” bone crushing loneliness clawing at the door like a dog just begging for companionship. i need someone, please be that someone. i don’t know what to do if i don’t have someone. but maybe it’s for the best. but i can’t leave well enough alone (historically, “i don’t do too well on my own”) so i need you to feel what i feel. empty. isolated. lonely. then maybe you’ll need me the same way i need you.

“their faces are dancing till they can’t stand it.” being the outsider, the wallflower, the lone observer, because what else can you do? what else is there to do? it’s three drinks too late to talk to anyone but myself. who even wants to be there with the lunatic on a downward spiral entirely of his own design, who has faded so seamlessly into the background that he doesn’t even know who he is or if he even exists anymore. getting worse till there’s nothing left.

from now on we are enemies is pete vs patrick. two brilliant artists duking it out because one is so enamored with, but absolutely cannot stand, the brilliance of the other. pavlove is…different. more distanced. it’s the realization. and if pavlove is the realization, from now on we are enemies is the final showdown.

pavlove is misery with the life he’s cultivated, with the parties and the tabloids running rampant in the 2000s. the drugs he’d been doing that his best friend didn’t even fully realize the severity of because, in his mind, drug abuse was this abstract thing that he couldn’t quite comprehend. fnowae is the culmination of isolating oneself from those which he loves and cares about, because he’s so lost in his misery.

“what good comes of something when i’m just the ghost of nothing?” because progression in any capacity is a threat to your self preservation. creative integrity, personal growth, whatever it is, it has begun to feel like it’s unattainable because the risk is too high. so what’s the point? it’s a three-and-two pitch to walk to anywhere else. so stay where you are. don’t bother. patrick is brilliant, patrick is gifted and he doesn’t even know it and i’m just a painter looking at the walls trying to finger paint and he’s the only one who has been able to finish these half-baked paintings i throw at him. if this thing is breaking down, what am i good for?

trick question. stalemate. stay right here. if anything, move back.

but there’s a wife to try to make a life with and a child on the way and if i do move forward, who’s to say i don’t just find new ways to make it all worse? my anchor has started to completely detach—get engaged, make a solo record, make himself a life, eventually…soon, even—and i’m let out to sea all on my own and i don’t want to be here, i wanted to go back to land. i wasn’t prepared to still be here. but somehow, i am, and i don’t know what to do. i’m the just the man on the balcony, singing, “nobody will ever remember me,” because amadeus over here is doing the things that are worthwhile. he’s the one people will revere, and i will fade in the distance as the blurry shadow whose features have smudged and disappeared with time, because my contributions pale in comparison to his genius, because i wasn’t blessed with the ability to sing or write music or do so many of the ten billion things he is capable of. because who knows how i’ll be remembered now that the ship i’ve spent the last 8 years manning is possibly about to sink and maybe that means that will be my legacy, if i even have a legacy. if anyone remembers that i was ever here. but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be remembered. that doesn’t mean i like what i’ve become, how my meaning has become dependent on the twin skeleton beside me. i’m the invisible man who can’t stop staring at the mirror. begging to be remembered…because that’s the point of it all, right?

i said it at the beginning, fall out boy had to be fall out boy and leave the world on a cliffhanger for three years. but it’s been 14 years since believers never die vol 1. we know what happens next. we’ve read the next chapter, watched the sequel, seen how it all pans out. they get to be happy middle aged men playing these songs, reclaiming the trauma and horrors and pain within them, making them into newer, happier memories, because they’re not about that pain anymore. and they haven’t been for a long time. they haven’t been theirs in ages. and so they can finally let it go, with their spouses and kids in the audience cheering them on (well, maybe not the kids. they’re dads, after all, they can’t think they’re cool). with stronger bonds between them and a stronger sense of self in each of them. because they’re not defined by each other anymore, no, this is their fun little art project. patrick composes for a living now (a composer but never composed, who always saw himself as a composer first, now literally a composer by trade), joe and pete each have multiple different ventures they explore in their free time (the symphonies of the overdosed, now being sung by yourself because you don’t need someone else to do it for you anymore), andy is in a million different bands at any given time. they don’t need each other—they don’t need to be defined by each other—they want to be with each other now.

no amadeus, no salieri, no jealousy, no enemies in sight, just four dudes who love making music together. who can make music on their own, who do make music on their own and/or separate from fall out boy, but can’t make their music without all of them together. at the end of the day, “no matter how obsessed you’ve been with your own vanishing, there will always be someone who still wants you whole.”

[cherry-treelane]

everytime i feel bad and stressed about my life i remember that i might be in a troubling situation and having a bad time but im not season 4 fiona gallagher in the clink after leaving crack on the counter which my 3 year old baby brother happened to ingest resulting in a fatal near-death experience thats wracked me with never-ending guilt and forever altered my life

[2024skin]

My nonbinary boyfriend has spent the last 2 hours having a tantrum because I (politely) told them that I don't want them to hang up my tank tops in the closet when they do the laundry

[mainfaggot]

just watched challengers at the cinema w my little sister. it was so intense wtf

[xfindingtrouble]

song shuffle ellis for 4!

would like to point out that never love an anchor was the first option, but I've already broken it down here. i do believe that i may have talked about this song with you in regards to Kakashi? but it is integral to ellis' characterization. when he meets morrigan, he is not quite a whole person yet. neither is she. their love was a survival tactic, it wasn't love for the sake of love. they never learned to hold each other gently & that's why they couldn't have worked where they met in his timeline. later in life he marries @softersinned's astoria & he learns how to treat someone gently as she is someone who helped him grow while encouraging him to do so on his own. someone who was always going to be one of his forever people. but with morrigan it couldn't have worked in a way that would have been worth it. morrigan & ellis had chemistry but chemistry wasn't enough.

but since i had already broken down never love an anchor, i went ahead & shuffled again & ended up with brave as a noun - ajj which is actually one of my favorite songs of all time. i have it on ellis' playlist because i feel like it really hits the nail on the head about how he processes the world around him. he has wildly invasive thoughts revolving good & bad & he feeds both sides of himself. he wants to stay safe, remain where h& how he knows how he can function even if it isn't sustainable.

but he has hope that he can be something more, be a better person & comes to understand that he has to be the one to make that decision. he has to be the one to ' get the brains to get out of bed in the morning ' [ a line from the song ] but anyways i am gonna dive on into this because ajj is my all time fav & this is my favorite ajj song & it's off my favorite ajj album so applying it to ellis is just fucking sublime for me. it's so on point. like even the way it sounds, raw & a little shitty is reflective of the way his brain works. down to the patterns in the banjo & the emotion behind how the lyrics are presented. this song was one of the songs that shaped his concept.

I could go off the deep end I could kill all my best friends I could follow those stylish trends And God knows I could make amends

so ellis has always kind of walked the metaphorical line of what is 'too much ' if that makes sense? he was the second son of the couslands. he was the sheltered secondborn of an influential family. he was always swimming in a million ' what ifs' that were based on how he perceived stories & how he wanted to be perceived. he didn't have many expectations on his shoulders to ground him & so he sort of ran wild emotionally. he would throw fits, ruin friendships & partake in a thousand destructive & self-sabotaging behaviors growing up.

after the blight he expects to be a different person entirely... which he is, in a way. he's more tired, less patient but those habits & thought processes he developed as a child still linger. he still ends up in tears after a minor inconvenience & he's always terrified the people around him secretly hate him. only his sister & astoria are really able to ground him to any degree & even then he really cannot stand being that kind of burden to the people he loves. of course he learns how to cope with time & effort but for a long time he's really stuck in fight mode. for at least a couple years after the blights, going into awakening & witch hunt he's Deep In It & super easily triggered.

like he feels guilt surrounding it but he doesn't feel like he can make amends because his responses are genuine? like he is upset about how he treats the people around him, in any context whether it is positive or negative. but he isn't sorry for how he feels, in the same stride? it's almost like he feels sorry for existing in an interactive world. there'll be more on this bit later. also directly following the blight his sister, lily, is at her worst as well. she's younger than him, he feels the weight of her suffering on his shoulders. she kept him in line for the whole blight where he was constantly giving into this impulsive & often cruel part of himself. she kept him from becoming a monster & though they are technically both warden-commanders, he bears the brunt of the responsibility in the beginning of rebuilding ferelden's grey wardens. so again. there is no time to make amends or get closure. only to react.

But I’ve got an angry heart Filled with cancers and poppy tarts If this is how you folks make art It’s fucking depressing

of course, he's angry. how could he not be? he lost everything. i love exploring the thought of losing yourself & having to rebuild but this is such a big concept when it comes to ellis. he loses not only his family, his home, his known life... but he loses his idealism, his mind & his faith. plus ellis feels like he's lost his closest friend [ astoria, who he finds out has magical ability. he is afraid of mages / believed in a lot of anti-magic propaganda before the blight. ] anyways he's got this rage that's always on the tip of his tongue during the blight. he feels it in every heartbeat & it feels like a horrible disease. but he kinda likes it.

he likes the way his heart races when he starts to get a little scared. a little angry. it makes him feel horribly alive. if he weren't a rogue i would probably compare it to raging in dnd as a barbarian. he lovesss the adrenaline & cannot stop craving it. his overreactions distract him from having to react to these loses he's facing. there are a lot of people who try to tell him to temper his emotions, to tread a little more carefully. to that, he wonders how boring their lives must be without that horrible, wonderful feeling.

the feeling that all you have to lose is the body you exist in is very real for ellis. if not for lily & astoria being in their travel party he probably would have died much quicker, but they give him something to live for. even when he's not happy with them, they both remind him that he is a person outside of the gore. he still struggles thinking that other people do not react on the same level as him, though.

And it’s sad To know That we are not alone And it’s sad to know there’s no honest way out

he lamets over the connections he has to this world. whether it's lily, astoria, morrigan or any of the other friends he picks up on the way... he hates that they anchor him to his flesh. he would much rather crawl out of it or rot in the ground or whatever else can happen to his fragile body. he's soooo okay with dying. he's so into the idea of being thrown into a shallow grave & being forgotten. of course he fears it, but it's not the scariest thing on his plate at the time. but he is not okay with leaving his loved ones to fend for themselves, even as he has difficulties understanding how to maintain or fix those relationships. he still treasures them, deeply.

it's sad to know there is no dying on the end of a darkspawn's blade without affecting not only the people he has left, but also the potential outcome of the world. there are three grey wardens in ferelden, one of them is him, one of them is his sister & one of them is a king's bastard( & as far as ellis is concerned in the beginning, an oaf ). they don't know what will happen to Alistair by the end of it all, as he is a decent contender for king. if ellis were to die, that would leave lily as the single hope ferelden had of survival. he could never damn her to that fate.

I’m afraid to leave the house I’m as timid as a mouse I’m afraid if I go out, I’ll out wear my welcome

this sets up a perfect set one lines to dip into the next big arc of his life. after the blight, ellis is tired & half-mad. he perceives every threat that could be there, not always able to differentiate which ones are real & which ones are from his mind. when amaranthine is left in he & lily's care, it's like throwing salt in an open wound. he walks whalls that he had traveled once with his father, a constant reminder of a friend's betrayal. being in charge of rendon howe's estate really messes with his mind. during this time, lily is also Suffering intensely & can barely face the public let alone run anything. so ellis takes a lot of the responsibility.

but he is struggling too. man is paranoid & overactive to every little thing. if he see's a shadow dance in the corner of his eye he's sure it's a darkspawn. maybe it's the desire demon he let keep that man in the mage tower? maybe it's there for him next. he doesn't know but he thinks he knows. if this makes sense? this makes it hard for him to reach out to apologize, to process feelings. he lashes out often & usually walks away from emotionally intense situations in tears. so he often tries to avoid them altogether. he would rather exist as a myth, an idea [ which he doesn't like but is preferable ] than be seen or known to any degree.

he doesn't care so much about trying to temper himself as much as he cares about avoiding situations in the public altogether. especially since he has trouble feeling bad for his reactions, because again, they are genuine. when he's royally pissed off he feels that feeling in earnest. if he's hyperventilating in the throne room it's because he can't stop it. for as much as he hates to be seen, he hates trying to keep his emotions on any sort of leash either? which lends to this vicious cycle of ' please don't look at me, i can't hide, fucking stop looking at me ' if that makes sense?

I am not a courageous man I don’t have any big lasting plans ’m too cowardly to take a stand I wanna keep my nose clean

during this time he feels like he does not have it in him to seek the help he needs. he doesn't have the time. it's not that he doesn't have the support. in fact, he has the support of an entire [ mostly grateful ] nation. not even counting his new friends, surviving family, astoria or his recruits. he's constantly planning for a future he can't see. one he's not sure he'll be a part of, despite the fact that he is at the center of building it. though he is able to plan & navigate social niceties via letters [ not face-to-face. he actually often comes off as rude in social situations. he's generally unexpressive or too expressive if that makes sense? it's expanded a little more on one of his schizophrenia posts ]

but anyways despite him not feeling like he can be apart of what's to come [ though he will be & cannot see it ] he is afraid to stand up to certain parties. though this is a conversation for another day, ellis is very blatanlty anti-chantry. he loses his faith during the blight & is pretty open about it. it complicates things often so in a lot of other situations he tries to do what he's supposed to. even if he's not always good at it, he still tries to build this new & better reputation for the grey wardens. it doesn't really come together until lily & astoria act as buffers for the public in seperate ways.

astoria acts as an emotional buffer, as she is someone who takes the time to understand why he is like this. she is one of the only people he ever feels really knows him outside of his family. she helps support him when he needs support, though she is also balancing her own duties surrounding her homes at the same time. but anyways there are a lot of reputations outside of his own he has to consider & with him already being in bad standing with such a large power in ferelden, in contrast to the masses of people who have immortalized him as legend, he has to tread carefully where he is better at stomping if this makes sense? idk it is like 10am & i haven't slept yet but i had to finish this

And it’s sad To know That we’re not alone in this And it’s sad to know there’s no honest way out In this life we lead, we could conquer everything If we could just get the braves to get out of bed in the morning

again, reiterating the sentiment that the people in his life keep him in line. they keep the invasive thoughts from winning. it's hard to maintain his relationships while trying to balance his own shit, but they ever stop being important to him. he thinks about them in retrospect of every action,how the people he cares about may be affected by any destructive or self destructive thoughts. but if he can stay alive for them, why can't he stay alive for himself?

the first step he takes in healing & seeking help for this cycle he traps himself in is realizing he wants out of it. it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to rely on the people you love. but they cannot fix him. he has to want to heal & adapt himself. otherwise, he will weigh his loved ones down because he is not carrying any of the weight. he's hollowed himself out for so many causes that he decides to fill that space with someone better than he was. he just has to take that leap with his own two legs.

[overbearingstruggles]

Deep into Roman/Tabitha tags on a Friday night help

[pa-pa-plasma]

Oh. it just clicked why so many newer vivisection fics (including ones that happen offscreen) bother me. it's because they always happen post-reveal, where Maddie & Jack know that it's Danny & are doing it anyways (out of character). older ones (like. the ones that got the trend going) always had the reveal happen either during the vivisection for max angst or after if the author leaned more towards a chaptered fic with character & emotional development (all in character). Hm

[readymades2002]

im just like spongebob (employee of the month)

[sagittariangirl27]

[azrielbrainrot]

The First Light of Dawn

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Somnophilia

Description: The bond threatens to drive both you and Azriel insane.

Warnings: Smut, somnophilia, fingering, oral sex, dub con (except it's not because they totally discussed this before)

Word Count: ~1,6k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: I feel obligated to say that you should only try something like this with someone who you trust and with prior consent and that you can take it back anytime. Hope you enjoy!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

There wasn't much Azriel loved more than flying over Velaris after a long mission, feeling the breeze hit his face and his sore muscles as he watched the city shining below, always reminding himself why he works so hard to protect it. Today's mission had been a mostly routine affair, one he didn't even have to leave his shadows for, but he still felt particularly exhausted after it.

His brothers had warned him multiple times that the bond could be hard to deal with at times, especially when it was as fresh as yours, but he always thought they were exaggerating, - your bond had brought him nothing but happiness after all. The Mother proved him wrong today though. Azriel was gone for barely a full day and while he was supposed to be focusing on his target all he could think about was how much he missed you. He could almost hear the bond in his chest screaming at him to go and find you, to hold you in his arms and never let go.

Even now it was trying to guide his body in the direction of your house on the other side of the river, making him have to almost fight with himself to keep flying to the townhouse. The sun wasn't even close to rising and you had worked all day as well, he wouldn't disturb your sleep just because the bond was so annoyingly irrational. Azriel contemplates waking Rhys or Cassian up so they could spar with him and help him release some of the tension clinging to his body, but that would be proving them right, something he was unwilling to do no matter the cost.

At last, he lands on his balcony with a soft thud, a sigh escaping him at the familiar sight, sending his shadows scattering around the room so they could relax as well. The bond had been so loud all day, that he thought he was imagining smelling your scent in the air, already setting his weapons down on their respective spots in his dresser when his body locked up as he heard soft breathing behind him.

Turning around slowly, Azriel couldn't even believe his eyes when he saw you sleeping soundly under the covers. His shadows climbed up his body immediately, giddily letting him know that not only was he not dreaming, but his pretty little mate had also been missing him all day, crawling up into his bed so she'd be surrounded by his scent.

His tired body awakens at the sight, walking closer to the bed slowly so he didn't wake you up, unable to keep away. A smile breaks out on his lips when he reaches you, pushing some of the hair out of your face so he could place a soft kiss on your forehead, scarred thumb caressing your cheek softly. Gods, you were so perfect.

Just when he thought the bond would finally calm down, it starts spreading a different kind of heat over his body, your scent assaulting all of his senses the longer he breathes it in. His hand trails down to your neck, pushing the covers down a bit as he goes, a whimper almost escaping him when he finds you were wearing one of his shirts, and nothing else from the looks of it.

His body moves before he even realizes what he was doing, pushing the covers off your body completely, exposing you to his hungry gsze, hazel eyes tracing every bit of exposed skin, taking note of how his shirt although too big on you, had ridden up enough to let him know you were truly only wearing it and nothing else.

With the bond purring inside him and his shadows whispering just how much you've missed him, Azriel turns your body over carefully, laying you on your back as he sits on the bed beside you, hands caressing your legs softly. You sigh in your sleep when his hands spread your thighs apart, but show no sign of waking up. Your scent, deepened with arousal hits his nose in full force, a groan echoing around the room. It seems you really did miss him.

Azriel wastes no time in lifting the shirt up to your neck, making a sound in the back of his throat as your entrancing body is revealed to his eyes, biting down on his lip as your nipples started hardening under his gaze. He leans down to drop a kiss between your breasts, closing his eyes and breathing you in, feeling your heart beating under his lips for a moment. Gods, what was he doing? His body shows him the answer right away as he starts trailing wet kisses down your torso, biting and then soothing the skin with his tongue as he goes, a primal hunger rising within him.

He sits up suddenly when he reaches your navel, letting out a growl as he sheds any remaining piece of restraint that threatened to stop him. Your chest was rising and falling faster now, mouth agape as puffs of air escaped past your delicious lips. He knew he'd find you soaked even before his fingers met your cunt, easily sliding one and then two inside you carefully.

Azriel watches his fingers almost like he was in a trance, almost purring at the noises they made as he moved them in and out of you, your wetness dripping down his palm. Your body knew his touch well, whether you were awake or sleeping, sucking in his fingers greedily, almost begging him to keep going and take what was his.

A wicked idea comes to his mind, taking his fingers out and adjusting your body carefully so he could lay down between your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders and lining his face up with your dripping cunt. He wanted to see how long it'd take you to wake up, if he could make you cum before you did.

Hands holding onto your waist, Azriel licks a broad stripe up your cunt before diving right in, moaning against you as your taste overwrites all of his senses. He almost forgets himself and the situation, getting lost in your taste, your scent and the feeling of your soft skin under his hands. Azriel grabbed at your thighs, massaging the flesh with his hands, moving back and forth up to your chest, playing with your nipples as best as he could given the angle. His hips start grinding down onto the mattress, his cock throbbing under his leathers as he feasts on you. He couldn't get enough of you, he probably would never get enough.

The Spymaster is so focused on your cunt, that he fails to notice your breaths coming out faster, your body trembling under his, and your eyes blinking awake, confused by the sudden rush of pleasure, moans of your own echoing around the room. It's only when your fingers tangle in his hair and you call out his name in question that he realizes you have woken up, moaning against you, the vibrations sending a shudder running through your overheated body.

It doesn't take long for you to fall apart on his tongue, cumming around him beautifully as soon as he starts pumping one of his fingers back into your cunt while his mouth abused your clit. Azriel laps up your release, only pulling away when your body is shaking too much and your hands start pushing at his head, struggling to breathe through the unexpected pleasure he was giving you.

Kissing his way up your body, lingering for a moment over your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth, and then over your neck, marking it up with his teeth, he softens when he gets to your jaw, sweetly kissing your face before his lips fall over yours at last, your hands moving to hold the back of his neck to keep him in place, tasting yourself in his mouth.

“You're a heavy sleeper,” he whispers against your lips when you pull away, unable to resist licking over your bottom lip once.

“I think you're just too good at being sneaky, Spymaster,” your murmur, voice still heavy with sleep and still breathy from the mind numbing orgasm, legs still trembling softly at his sides.

Azriel hums, taking your lips between his own again, hands still caressing your skin, coaxing the sweetest gasp from you, one he gladly swallowed, his body fitting over yours perfectly.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as the bond finally gives him a moment of rest. “Couldn't stop thinking about you all day.”

“Me too.”

His shadows had already told him as much but it still warmed his heart to hear the confession coming directly from your lips, a content smile widening on his lips.

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Yes,” you admit, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I couldn't sleep without you.” Leaning up to peck his lips as he purrs at your words. He's convinced he could live forever in your arms.

Azriel starts feeling sneaky fingers tugging at the straps holding his leathers together, leaning away so he can watch your face adoringly as you unbuckle them expertly without ever looking away from him and still blinking away the sleepiness in your eyes.

“What are you doing, my love?”

“It's only fair I get to play with you too, don't you think?”

[impishjesters]

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

[moongreenlight]

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

[fairyhaos]

❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo

wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love

warnings: none

notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!

“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 

“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”

You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 

“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”

“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”

You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”

“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”

“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”

The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”

“Yes.”

Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”

You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 

Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 

Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 

Maybe… a little too perfect. 

He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 

The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 

Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 

“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 

It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”

You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”

“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”

“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”

Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”

Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 

This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 

That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 

“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”

“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”

Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 

“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”

“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”

“Not yet.”

Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 

It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 

As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 

There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 

And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 

Junhui bites back a grin. 

Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 

“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 

“Where?” 

Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 

He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 

“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”

“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”

“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”

Junhui slurps his water loudly. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”

He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 

“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”

“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”

You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 

“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”

“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 

“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”

Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 

“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”

Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”

Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 

“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”

You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 

“I'll see you later?” he says. 

You nod. “I'll see you later.”

Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 

You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 

And how much he loves you, it seems. 

“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”

“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 

“So do you see it or do you not?”

You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 

“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.

“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”

“Hm?”

You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 

“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”

Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect

[1800-fight-me]

Old man Logan going through the five stages of grief when you tell him you're pregnant, and the kid is his

Five Stages

Old Man!Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Pregnancy, angst with a happy ending, explicit oral sex (f receiving) and explicit PiV sex, daddy kink Word count: A little over 2.1k Synopsis: As Charles' caretaker and Logan's long term lover, life hasn't been the easiest and a possible pregnancy throws a wrench into things. (Set before the events of Logan) Author’s note: With all my talk, I cannot believe this is my first fic with old man Logan, he drives me insane - please enjoy and thank you for the request!! P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

At first you thought it was the flu. You were nauseous, exhausted, and had constant headaches. 

Logan brought you some cold medicine, but it wasn’t like you could go to the doctor- living in hiding pretty much prevented that. 

It was Charles’ odd comments to you about a new mutant that made you decide to take a pregnancy test. At first you brushed off his comments as due to his dementia, but eventually the signs became too hard to ignore. 

You gave Logan the list of supplies you needed to care for Charles and at the bottom you’d written a pregnancy test. 

He’d stuffed the list into his pocket without reading it, pressed a brief kiss to your forehead, and said a gruff goodbye as he walked out the door. 

It was a two day wait before you saw him again. You puked both mornings he was gone. The food you made for Charles made you sick and you missed Logan something awful. Your emotions were all over the place, but the strongest one was panic. 

You’d always wanted a baby one day, but then the world went to shit and it was impossible to live safely as a mutant, and life everyday was a battle for survival as you cared for an aging Charles and Logan tried to scrounge up enough money to get the three of you somewhere safer. 

This was not the ideal situation for a baby. Though if you were being honest, a part of you was thrilled. If you were pregnant, you wanted this, you wanted to have Logan’s baby- to be his in an irreparable way. 

You just weren’t quite sure how he’d feel about it. 

You stood before the stove and stirred a pot of soup. You hummed as you made dinner for you and Charles. Logan had texted you that morning that he would be back tonight, so you hoped he’d be back in time for dinner but you didn’t count on it. 

You hummed quietly and the peace of the moment was interrupted by the clanging of the door. 

Logan shuffled in and you gasped at the blood on his shirt. 

“S’not mine, princess,” he grunted as he sat down heavily at the chair before the kitchen table. 

You sighed in relief and took a step towards him but he leveled a glare at you. 

He had a paper grocery bag, he’d sat it on the floor next to him. He reached inside and tossed a box towards you. 

It slid across the table and stopped just before it fell off. Right in front of you laid a pregnancy test- it was as if he’d thrown a grenade. The both of you just stared at one another. 

“You wanna explain this?” He asked. 

“I’ve been sick…” you whispered. 

‘Why did I have to find out from a fuckin’ grocery list babygirl?” He asked sharply. 

You gulped. 

“I-I could be wrong, maybe it’s just the flu, I don’t- I was worried you’d be upset with me and clearly you are so-“ 

“C’mere,” he grunted. 

You sighed, knew there was no arguing with him, and took the few steps towards him. As soon as you stood close enough to reach he pulled you onto his lap. 

“I could never be mad at you,” he said with a sigh as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and buried your face in his neck. He held you tight and ran one hand up and down your back. 

Your heart slowed its rapid pace. 

“Go take the test,” he said and you stood, prepared to do as he said. His hand slipped down your arm and held onto your hand. 

“You're not gonna give your daddy a kiss?” He said and his eyes twinkled as he teased you. 

You smiled for the first time in days and leaned down and pressed a kiss to his chapped lips. 

He smacked your ass gently as you walked out of the kitchen and you swiped the pregnancy test off the table as you left. 

Several excruciatingly long minutes later you walked back into the kitchen. 

He looked like he’d cleaned up a bit, at the very least changed his shirt into one that didn’t have dried blood all over it. 

You loved Logan, it didn’t matter to you that the metal inside him was slowly poisoning him and it didn’t matter that his body was aging and at this point he looked significantly older than you. He was still painfully handsome with his salt and pepper hair and rough beard. He was gruff, but only you knew of the gentleness within. You loved him more than anything, but you knew the stress he was under and worried that this would create even more. 

You slid the test across the table the same way he had, this time with tears in your eyes. 

He grabbed it with his large scarred hand and stared and stared and stared at it. 

He looked up and as his eyes met his, you swore the torrent of emotions within them mirrored the five stages of grief. 

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance- you watched him experience the full range within a few moments as he stared at you. 

This wasn’t the ideal situation for either of you to have a baby. But you knew Logan would be a good father, you knew you’d be able to figure it out as a team, you hoped it would be okay. 

He stood with a grunt and walked towards you. Your heart felt as if it were in your throat and you forgot how to breathe. 

You looked down at your feet unable to meet his heavy gaze. 

“Look at me, babygirl,” he murmured. With a gentle hand on your jaw and chin he lifted your head as he stood close enough that your chest brushed his. 

There were tears in both your eyes. 

“You want this?” he asked gently. 

You nodded, unable to form any words. 

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Do you?” you finally asked, your voice more timid than you’d ever heard it. 

He wrapped you in his arms and held you tight. 

“Of course,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

You breathed out a shuddering sigh of relief and burrowed your face further into his chest. You sunk into his embrace and let a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Are you panicking as much as I am?” you asked after a few long moments of peace. 

He chuckled and said, “Probably, but we’ll figure it out.” 

You took a few more calming breaths. “Yeah, it’ll be okay.” 

He lifted you up and placed you on the kitchen counter behind you. A gentle hand caressed your stomach. 

“This isn’t the ideal situation to have a baby, but I don’t want you to worry, princess. Daddy’s got you. I’ll take care of you,” he said fervently. 

You curled your fingers into his gray hair and yanked his lips to yours. 

He huffed a laugh against your lips as he kissed you with the same passion. 

“S’your fault,” you murmured against his lips. 

He pulled back and glared at you, which caused you to giggle. 

“You forgot to pick up my birth control last month when you got Charles’ meds, remember? I went a few days without it,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, then down to his neck. 

His hand slid up to your throat, he gently gripped you - only enough to pull your lips from his throat and force you to look him in the eyes once more. 

“Really, you think that’s the reason- but who was beggin’ for my cock, huh? Who was beggin’ for me to come inside?” he said, his voice low in that dominant way that turned your brain fuzzy. 

“Me,” you breathed out. 

He smirked and pulled you to him again as he slotted his lips over yours. 

“You gonna do some more of that pretty begging?” he asked after several minutes of his lips on yours as he consumed you. 

You let out a shuddering breath. 

“Please, daddy, need you so bad,” you breathed out. 

He groaned and his knees cracked as he kneeled on the hard tile before you. Your breathing quickened as he spread your legs and slowly pushed his rough palms up your sensitive thighs. He pushed your dress up, up, up, until he could see your panties. 

You whimpered at the sight of him kneeling before you. 

“Gonna give you everything you need, princess. You’re giving your old man more than he ever could’ve dreamed,” he praised. 

Your breaths came quick and heavy and wiggled yourself closer to him. He chuckled at your eagerness and began to press gentle kisses to the inside of your thigh. 

His nose ran up and pressed against your needy pussy. He took in a deep breath and groaned at the smell of your arousal. 

“Gonna be my pretty little mama, huh? You gonna have my baby- be mine forever?” he practically growled as he yanked off your soaked panties. 

“Y-yes, yes, oh god, oh yes Lo,” you whimpered as his warm wet tongue licked you from your desperate hole to your clit. 

You gripped his silver hair as you clenched your thighs around his head. You squirmed where you sat on the kitchen counter, desperate for more of him. 

His expert tongue circled and flicked you at the center of your pleasure. 

Your spine began to tingle, your entire body filled with warmth, and your thighs trembled. You moaned wantonly as his lips surrounded your clit and he sucked. 

“Fuck, daddy, so good!,” you exclaimed. 

Just as you felt like the wave of pleasure you rode was about to crescendo, he pulled back. You gasped in dismay and almost came at the sight of him disheveled with your slick coating his beard. 

“Logan,” you whined and reached for him as he stood. 

He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm. 

“Patience, babygirl, need you to come on my cock,” he growled as he began to unbuckle his belt. You whimpered as you saw the evidence of his affection for you. 

Slowly, all too slowly, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper, and finally pulled out his huge cock. 

He batted your hand away and yanked you to the very edge of the counter. As his lips crashed against yours he lined his cock up and with no preamble thrust himself inside you. 

You gasped at the taste of yourself on his tongue and the sudden feeling of fullness. 

Your head fell back and almost hit the cabinet behind you if it weren’t for his quick reflexes as he slid his hand and cradled the back of your head. 

He huffed a laugh and kissed you deeper as he tangled his tongue with yours. You wrapped your thighs around his waist and linked your ankles in an attempt to pull him deeper inside you, to somehow feel closer to him. 

All of the clothes still remaining on both your bodies frustrated you, but you were too desperate for him to pull away and rid either of you of any clothing. He pulled your chest tighter to yours with a hand on your back as he ground himself deeper inside you. 

There were no words to say, to define the feeling of connection and closeness, as he continued to thrust inside you and your breaths mingled as his forehead rested against yours. 

He noticed the shift in your breathing and slipped a hand between the two of you and pressed his thumb against your clit. 

With a kiss to your forehead he murmured, “C’mon, give it to me princess, you’re fuckin’ perfect- I love you so much.” 

You whimpered and tears filled your eyes as you clenched down on his thick cock and came. 

From the stuttering of his hips you could tell he was close too, and you pressed your lips to his and murmured, “I love you, Logan, please come inside me, fill me up, please.” 

He groaned your name into your mouth as he thrust once more, deep inside you and came. You felt perfectly, exquisitely full and there was no better feeling in the world.  

You rested your head against his chest as you both came down from such intense heights. 

His hand rubbed up and down your back. 

“We’re having a baby, Lo,” you mumbled. 

His hand again rested against your lower stomach. 

“Yeah, we are,” he said and there was a lightness in his voice you hadn’t heard in a long time. 

[loganhowlettshousewife]

Okay relating to a recent post, cleaning up Logan after a fight/mission? Maybe you have a kit ready to go when you hear him return, put his favorite pjs on a fluff cycle so they're nice and warm for him. You clean off any blood (maybe a few remaining wounds if it was BAD bad), and wipe down his claws. Maybe shower together, letting you run your fingers through his shampooed hair before getting cozy for the night

I just wanna take care of him

you! you get it!!

comfort

summary: you take care of logan after he comes home from a mission.

cw (treating this like ao3 tags): blood, wound tending, non-sexual intimacy, nudity, not proofread at all, english isn't my first language so beware, reader has hair, i'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but i'm a girl so i may have accidentally added something gendered without realising idk. this is very soft! you can say this is out of character for logan but i believe he's actually a big softie and just wants love!

word count: 1619

logan comes home to you sitting on the couch reading a book. or, well, you’re trying to read, but it’s hard to focus on anything when logan’s out on a mission. you know he can’t die, his regenerative healing factor pretty much guarantees that, and yet there’s still an irrational spark of fear that lives in you, lighting a fire in your heart every time he gets called away by the x-men.

every minute that passes is a dagger, every new star that appears in the sky a reminder of how long he’s been gone. missions for the x-men can be mere hours or last for days, you remind yourself, and time has nothing to do with how dangerous it is.

though logan typically only gets chosen to go on the dangerous missions. he’s not the one they ask to convince new, young mutants to go to the school. he’s too harsh, too jaded.

you immediately drop the book when you hear the sound of the door lightly creaking open. you’re on your feet in an instant, there to catch logan when he falls into your arms, sweaty and bloody and tired - not as much physically, he has insane stamina, but mentally.

“missed you,” he mumbles into your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

“missed you more,” you reply.

you stay like that for a few minutes. you both need the comfort. early on in your relationship, logan would refuse this type of comfort after a mission, claimed he didn’t need it, he’s fought and killed his entire life and never had a sweet thing like you to take care of him when he got back. but you did, you needed to know he was there, with you, a physical presence, proof that nothing terrible had happened to him.

secretly, he revelled in those moments. now, he trusts you enough for those feelings to be spoken out loud, whispered reverently between “i love you”s, declarations of affection and faith. you’re the only one who’s ever been able to get him to open up this way, to verbalise his feelings instead of swallowing them down.

“you’re covered in blood,” you comment, running a hand down his chest.

he shivers, “most of it’s not mine. but they got a few shots in.”

you hum, pulling back to take a better look at him. his shirt is torn in a few places, and in the middle of his chest are multiple neat, round holes in the fabric, small marks showing where bullets pierced his skin. the wound itself has healed, but the blood remains, a visual reminder of the pain your boyfriend was feeling not so long ago.

he may heal quickly, but he still feels pain, feels agony, and your heart shatters at the way others seem to forget that, so quick to put him in the line of fire. he’ll be fine, they say, and while that may be true physically, there’s only so many times a man can play human shield before he breaks.

“let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, the next part of your routine for when he returns from missions. 

it’s a dance you’ve almost perfected, the way he wraps his arms around your waist and you have to walk to the bathroom with him clinging to you. 

he sits down on the closed toilet seat, closing his eyes and letting you do all the work. his claws come out next, stained with the blood of those he harmed and killed, yet you trace them softly all the same. they protect you - he protects you, really, and so you’ll always be grateful for them, even when logan considers them a curse, a stain upon his existence, turning a man into a monster.

you grab a washcloth and dampen it, wiping meticulously at each sharp blade, from his knuckle to the pointed tip of the adamantium. soon, the washcloth is stained a dirty red, almost brown in its appearance, and the metal gleams brightly under the bathroom lights.

there’s an ease to his posture when he retracts his claws, so slight a difference that no one else would have noticed. he told you once that he can feel the blood remaining on his claws when they pull back into his skin, that it’s an uncomfortable reminder that he’s hurt people, that he’s a killer.

he doesn’t clean them himself, says the reminder is necessary. you disagree, and so you took to wiping them down yourself every time he came home after any sort of fight.  

there’s a small spot of blood between each of his knuckles where the claws pierce his skin, the tiniest bit of red that welled up before the cuts could heal themselves and you wipe that away too. then you lean down to press soft kisses to his hands, the part of himself that logan hates most.

he sighs, a shaky exhale leaving him at the sight of you lowering onto your knees to worship him, to prove your adoration.

any other time that would be enough to turn the mood of the evening into something much different, but he isn’t willing to give this up quite yet, this soft intimacy that’s always felt so foreign to him, a type of love he’d convinced himself he would never get to experience.

“i’m gonna go throw our pajamas and a few blankets into the dryer. you can get the shower going in the meantime, ‘kay?” he agrees easily, of course, and you lean up to kiss him, slow and soft.

pulling away is almost physically painful but you manage. you find the fluffy hello kitty pajama pants you originally bought for logan as a joke as well as the matching set you bought yourself and grab the blanket that sits at the foot of your bed, throwing them into the dryer to warm them up.

he sleeps naked most days, a blessing for you, but on his more difficult days he likes to cuddle up to soft, plush fabrics. besides, you like to think that the silly pajama pants bring him comfort, a reminder of your love for him, that you’re thinking about him even at the most inopportune of times.

he’s in the shower when he returns, the water tinged pink as it slides down the hard, muscled planes of his body. you’re quick to undress and join him, stepping under the hot water, feeling it soak into your hair and skin.

“you’re gorgeous,” logan says, grabbing onto your waist with his large hands to pull you to his chest. he brushes your wet hair out of your face. “can’t believe how lucky i am to have you. what did i ever do to deserve you, sweetheart?”

“you don’t have to do anything to deserve me, logan,” you say, “just being you is enough. and really, you do so much for me. every day.”

“loving you is the best thing i ever did,” he admits, “i’m gonna continue to do whatever i need to keep you. wanna be with you until i die.”

you’ve had conversations like these before, usually always in moments of vulnerability, often coming after devastation and horror. he doesn’t say these types of things in the light of day, but he doesn’t take them back later either. they just stay, floating in the air between you.

one day, you think, you’ll be able to have a real conversation about the future with him. it’s a goal to look towards, but he’s not quite there yet, and you’re okay with that. you’re content with what he does tell you, praise that he marks into every inch of your body.

you use your body wash to clean him, knowing he’ll smell faintly of you afterwards, and the possessive part of you is pleased. your hands tangle in his hair, scrubbing the shampoo into his scalp. his head is tilted down so you can have better access. 

it gets harder to finish cleaning him as his body leans into yours, two magnets always seeking each other. 

you exit the shower before him, allowing him a few more seconds under the water pressure to pull the last remnants of tension from his form. you pat yourself dry and then hurriedly grab the garments you’ve thrown into the dryer, stepping back into the humid bathroom as logan turns off the water.

the adrenaline has made way for bone-deep exhaustion, and so you help logan dry off.

it’s peaceful, quiet, as the two of you finish your nighttime routines. he brushes his teeth and watches you do your skincare routine, unwilling to go into your bedroom if you’re not by his side.

he falls asleep before you, for once. typically, he struggles to fall asleep, worried about the nightmares that plague his slumber and the possibility of harming you while unconscious. it’s nice to see him sleeping peacefully, the stern lines of his face flattening into a soft tranquillity that only you get to see.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy but you need to watch him just a little longer. so you fight the darkness that wants to pull you under, focusing on the hand you have placed on logan’s chest, the way you can feel the steady rising and falling of his breathing, the way his warm skin feels against the palm of your hand. 

“i’ll always come back to you,” he’d told you once when you had expressed the worry that seizes hold of you whenever he’s away for long.

you’re smiling when you fall asleep, those words replaying in your mind. he’s home, with you, and as long as he comes home to you everything will be okay.