#I need the energy I feel the energy I am the energy

[s3rrrpentine]

ghost!ghost wip

[vifilms]

Dude I keep thinking of that farmhand/cowgirl Abby thing where you’re cuddling and her belt buckle gets imprinted on the inside of your thigh *sighs dreamily*

suggestive content, eighteen+

farmhand!abby is my fucking girl. can you just imagine her just spooning you, back from plowing the field and her body is just so exhausted, a lack of energy finds home over her restless body and all she wants is to hold you in her arms and she does. everything about makes her feel right at home but the. you’re like um no i need to see her pretty freckled face and those gorgeous blue eyes, even if you love the way her burly bicep is cradling your neck. throwing your leg over her strong waist, nothing but a shirt of hers and a pair of panties and the cool metal chills you to the bone — it’s not what you expect — but you welcome it with open arms. the welded home state on the buckle wedges into your high and abby grins when you slightly yelp, not expecting the intrusion. you cling onto her, arms thrown around her neck, pulling her closer. “you alright, darling?” but her grin is entirely mischievous. hoping to elicit such a reaction out of you, with sweet and sugary lips, pink as peaches, finding the apple of your cheeks before she makes her way to your mouth, locking your lips in hers until your minty breath is saturating her tongue. simply, you can’t get over how delicious the oversized buckle feels against your skin and instantly your mind drifts to where else it could feel this good. “of course i am, abs. nothing a sweet girl like me can’t handle.”

[emotionalsupportgoblin420]

So first, lemme introduce you to my f/o of the week: Tfa Bumblebee

(Also, I will be rping as my Shisa s/i)

Me.

He would start with playing a song that is calming and that I like. Music always calms me down. Once I've settled down a bit, he'd hug me and just sit there till I was okay and playing calming music.

No. He doesn't wear clothes period lol /nm /silly

Him. He's also the one who needs protection more often as my yokai powers keep me well protected. Even against decepticons.

Low light, a candle, some snacks, maybe some hot coco for me, and some warmed up motor oil for him if it's the cold months, some blankets, a plushy for me, and anime while we're all cuddled up.

He would beg me not to leave, and I would have to to protect him.

Yessir! We're two nerodivergent dumbasses ofc we would lol /lh

I'm the only one who gets sick, and it's constant comfort, pity, and cuddles, which my touch starved ass LOVES.

Obvi we can't have bio children but he's not entirely against it. But preferably WAY in the future when we're both more mature lol.

Probably to somewhere like an amusement park. (Fun fact: In the canon, Bumblebee has gone to an amusement park. Whether or not his 16 foot tall robot ass was or was not allowed on any ride remains unknown, but imagining him on a roller coaster is fun as hell to me.)

We both kinda do. Him more than me, but we can always tell when the other is upset.

Not often, but it does happen. Usually over something petty ngl. It usually goes down like this: yelling, petty insults, storming off, coming back to talk about it calmly, apologizing, and forgiveness. Works for us. Neither of us are ones to linger on things long.

Me. I have made it my life's mission to torment him lol (in a loving way ofc. I try not to take things too far and to apologize when I do).

Both of us match each other's energy level, and we both have a love for speed. He sees me as a "goddess" (his words, not mine), and I am deeply insecure, and he helps with that while he's very confident (downright full of himself in a fun way.) The problem arise when you realize we both have ADHD. I'm innatentive, and he's hyperactive. That makes for an interesting combo to say the least lol. Also, he's a yapper and sometimes, I just wanna be left alone. This has led to a few petty arguments.

Yep. We both do. I always have to kiss him if either of us is leaving.

Omg yes. Sometimes, he won't shut up. But, I knew what I was signing up for, so I can't complain too much, lol.

Me. I'm the flirt in the relationship, and I wear it like a badge of honor.

Me! I LOVE animals! I already have a hamster and a crow (the crow is my familiar). If I could, I'd have horses, dogs, cats, cows, goats, ducks, and millipedes. I do have to restrain myself a little but will get some of those one day lol.

I'm aight with it most of the time. He loves it. He loves people knowing I'm his.

Pika Girl by S3RL

Bee would, and I'd help Ratchet patch him up.

The song Bumblebee always reminds me of him (for obvious reasons). Fire reminds him of me (because of my dark flame magic).

Either one of us, really. I could do it by being flirty (and possibly explicit 😏). He gives me his puppy eyes, and I am not leaving, lol.

Neither of us ngl. I'm too ticklish, and he wouldn't feel shit if I tried.

Video games! I don't care much for playing, but I love watching. Especially Legend of Zelda games.

Mine's alcohol. His is video games.

Him. He's such a toddler when he's drunk (I think it's kinda cute ngl. Also, according to G1, cybertronians can get drunk /nm /gen)

We like the basics. Babe, honey, sweetie, sweetheart, the usually. Babe is the most common one between the two of us.

Him. I freak out a bit. I hate the sensation.

If he could choose my outfit, he'd probably choose my yellow plaid dress and white leggings (assuming it's for a night out. If we're staying home, he'd pick some sort of laundering)

Oh, we're both handsy. But he can be more explict with it. If he can do it discreetly, he'll try to squeeze my thigh (not to say I mind ofc).

Me! I like to tell SCP stories! Unfortunately, I'm dyslexic so I often stumble over my words lol.

Me again. I love to forage for edible mushrooms, and I make mean fried mushroom nuggets if I do say so myself. He tried to cook once and nearly burned down the whole base. Optimus banned him from ever doing that again so... yeah.

We both make dirty jokes, but when it comes to stories that make the other blush, I'm the reigning champ.

Me. I draw all the time and make jewelry as well.

I'm most likely to fire up the stove at ungodly hours because I'm hungry. He keeps me company, which I appreciate.

Me. I cuss like a sailor (and I'm not happy about it).

He's the one always wanting to try something new. I'm a bit vanilla ngl. I just don't think of some of the things he does.

Me. He'd be against for like 10 minutes before caving to the cuteness and helping me beg Optimus to let us keep it lol.

Neither of us ngl. He doesn't eat, and I'm a lightweight when it comes to food portions.

Me as a joke lol.

He likes sunny and I like rainy.

Either of us. Without hesitation.

I would, and he'd join. The most likely song to create such a situation is Classic by MKTO.

Yes we both can.

Hell yeah 100%. We match each other's freak lol.

No. Both of us are chronic oversharers.

Him. He's literally a car lol.

Him more than me. If I don't give him enough attention, he starts begging like a dog. He knows what to do for my affection.

Me ngl. Nothing too bad. Just something little like hiding the game he was playing or something like that.

For me, it's happy stims, hugs, and nuzzling my face into him while I hug him. For him, it's some kind of gesture, like taking me on a nature or something.

California vacay and checking out cool stores and universal.

Any swimming is skinny dipping for him. I wouldn't, tho. I hate feeling that exposed outside of the comfort of either of our rooms.

He is. I physically couldn't carry him, lol. Not to mention, I usually fall asleep while cuddling or during a drive.

He doesn't get it, but he's willing to stargaze for me.

I usually will just spread my legs while we're alone, and he jumps at the opportunity. He'll just gently brush his hand against my bits, and I'm good to go.

I'm serious with grocery shopping, and he throws random stuff into the cart.

Me ngl.

I'm top dommy mommy. He's bottom twink.

He does.

Ask for OTPs and Self Ships

copied from a now gone post and blog: original url https://glitter-and-gasoline-deactivate.tumblr.com/post/687208822931095552

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.)

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

Describe their cozy night in.

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other?

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

What happens if one of them gets sick?

What are their thoughts on having children?

Describe their first date.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

Who’s the bigger tease?

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash?

Do they always say ‘i love you’ before leaving?

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Who’s more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately?

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

How do they feel about PDA?

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

Who would get into a fight to defend the other’s honor? Who tends to the other’s wounds?

What reminds each of their partner?

Who’s more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning?

Who’s more likely to give the other a massage?

Do they have any hobbies they share?

What are their vices?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party?

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any?

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out?

Your OTP gets to pick out each other’s outfits; what is each wearing?

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.)

Who’s the better story teller?

Who’s the better cook?

Who’s more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush?

Who’s more artistic?

Who’s more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry?

Which is more likely to swear?

Who is more sexually experimental? Who’s more vanilla?

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think?

Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help?

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering?

What’s their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.)

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought?

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway?

Can they fall asleep without the other?

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves?

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship?

Who’s the better driver?

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other?

who’s more likely to do something out of spite?

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you?

Describe their weekend getaway?

Would they ever go skinny dipping?

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed?

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

Who tops? Who bottoms?

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping?

[witchesverse]

run, little one, though the pack may follow

pairing: dark!agathario x werewolf!reader

summary: she killed your pack and chased you for six hours. you think you've been saved when you find a cabin, but unfortunately, you've walked right to her doorstep.

content: mentions of killing, wolf hierarchy, kidnapping, collars, muzzles, degradation (mutt, dog), hair/fur pulling, being chained to a wall, shock collars, mean!agathario, death threats, face slapping, noncon, somnophilia.

1.3k words

masterlist // the shelter masterlist

Six hours ago, your life was ruined. The witch, you have learnt her name to be Agatha, slaughtered your pack before driving you into the forbidden forest - a place no werewolf should enter. You thought your torment would end there, but she hasn’t stopped chasing you.

Your paws slap against the forest floor and your legs weaken with each step. You’re exhausted and need a break, but if you stopped running, she would catch you and kill you. The feeling of hope sparks in your chest; a cabin stands in the distance. You can pretend to act as an injured dog and seek shelter. You scratch against the front door and whine. A few seconds pass before the door is opened, revealing a woman with dark hair. Something about her aura makes you shiver. You give her your biggest puppy dog eyes and whimper, lifting your paw as if it is injured. 

The woman studies you for a moment before scoffing. “Agatha, come get your bitch.”

There is no time to react. Agatha grabs you by the scruff of your neck and pins you to the ground. You growl and twist in Agatha’s hold, desperately trying to escape her grasp. You feel something slip around your neck and click in place.

Did she put a fucking collar on you?

“Do not forget the muzzle. I am not dealing with teeth.” the woman hisses with disgust.

To wear a collar was embarrassing and degrading, but a muzzle was by far worse. You weren’t able to defend yourself with your teeth or assert dominance as easily. Only the lowest wolves in the pack wore a muzzle as punishment. There was no way you could allow yourself to wear a muzzle.

You manage to squirm out of Agatha’s grasp and pull yourself away from her. You stand defensively, teeth bared and eyes narrow. You can’t keep running, it has proven to be futile. 

“Brat,” Agatha pulls something out of her pocket and presses the button.

An unbearable pain pulses through your neck and you collapse to the ground. It feels like you’re continuously being punched really, really hard in the neck. The collar is electric. You try to stand but your muscles feel weak and like jelly. Agatha grins wickedly, taking three steps towards with the muzzle in her hand. The muzzle is black and has a few large holes for your nose and air to pass through. It has two straps on the side which she clips around the black of your head, and one strap going down the middle of your head which clips to the two straps. If you had the energy, you would scratch and snarl at her. To wear a muzzle was pathetic. It showed signs of ownership and submissiveness - she did not own you and you are not an Omega.

"Remember our deal, Agatha." the woman seems disinterested in you, almost like she doesn’t want to keep you.

"You'll be a good pet, won't you, darling?" Agatha purres.

You wish that you were human so you could snap a reply at her.

Your limp body is encased in purple magic, lifting you from the ground. Your body trails behind Agatha and the other witch as they walk inside. The cabin is small. Directly next to the door, there is a worn leather sofa and two empty bookcases. The kitchen is at the end of the cabin, and the wooden dining table is adjacent to it.

The unknown woman takes a seat on the sofa. Agatha continues down a hallway and turns into a room. This room is nearly empty. There is a queen-sized bed in the centre of the room and two cabinets on either side. On the right, there is a large dog bed and a chain connected to the wall. You are placed on the dog bed and Agatha attaches the chain to your ankle. As much as it is degrading, you can’t deny how comfortable it is. 

Agatha crouches, her hand threads through your fur, pulling it to reveal your throat to her. You bare your teeth. “I’ll give you a day or two of grace, but I wouldn’t try that attitude on Rio, sweetheart.”

Rio. That is the name of the other woman.

She releases her grip on your fur and pats the side of your muzzle before standing. “Get some rest,”

If your body didn’t feel like dead weight, you would have launched yourself at her and ripped her throat out. You don’t want to sleep. You don’t want to follow her orders. You want to be free with your pack; they deserve a proper burial. You stifle a cry at the thought of your pack. They are dead, rotting alone, and no doubt being torn apart by wild animals. You are the Alpha; the protector of the pack, yet you failed to protect. You blink back your tears. Crying won’t help, it will only blind you. If you want to take revenge, you need to focus.

You fight sleep for as long as you can, but there is no point. You are exhausted, your body aches, and the bed is so comfortable. You sigh, close your eyes, and let the world go dark.

When you wake, you notice two things. One, you’re human again. Two, your pussy and thighs are sticky. You drag two fingers through your slick; you’re drenched. You swallow, dragging yourself to your knees. It’s dark outside; moonlight is illuminating the room. There is a light breeze coming through the open window, making your naked form shiver. Wait, there’s an open window. An escape.

You stand eagerly and quickly move to the window, completely forgetting about the chain connected to your ankle. You fall to your knees and wince at the loud smack. You glance at the door, expecting one of the witches to walk through, but they don’t. 

“Fuckin’ chains.”

You tug at the chains, hoping they’ll disconnect from the wall. They don’t budge. You don’t even bother trying to take the chain off your ankle; it’s padlocked. You groan, flopping on the dog bed in defeat.

“Gave up already, mutt?”

You snap your head to the door. Rio leans against the door with a mocking smile. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. As she walks towards you, you back into the wall. She crouches, reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear. Forgetting about the muzzle, you try to bite her. Her mocking smile drops and she pulls you by your collar.

“Don’t try that shit on me, mutt. Or I’ll make you wish that Agatha killed you with the rest of your pack.” she snarled.

“Fuck you.”

Her hand collides with your face. The slap is hard and brings tears to your eyes. She pushes you onto your back and keeps your thighs spread. One finger drags through your pussy, making her laugh.

“Agatha treated you well. Too bad, you weren’t awake for it.”

The look of confusion on your face makes her laugh harder.

“Dogs have never been that smart, have they?”

You hate being called a dog or a mutt, unfortunately, Rio seems to enjoy it. You hate everything about this. Never in your life have you been in such a vulnerable position or had someone have so much control over you.

“Why?” you croak as her hands glide over your stomach and tits.

“Why not?”

“Leave her alone, Rio.” 

With a smile, Rio shuffles back from you. She’s still close enough to touch you but you’re grateful she gave you space. It’s pathetic how terrified you know you look. You have pushed yourself against the wall, trying to create as much space from them as possible.

“You’re scaring her before it’s meant to get scary, my love.” Agatha tsks, kissing the top of Rio’s head.

“It’s not my fault that she’s a scaredy cat.”

You growl. A scaredy cat? Seriously?

“I’ll kill you both.” you promise. “I’ll make your death slow, painful, and horrible. Nobody gets to harm my pack and walk away from it.”

They laugh hard, especially Rio. You scowl. People are meant to cower under your threats, not laugh.

Agatha sighs. “We better get your training started then, shall we?"

\\

taglist (comment to be added) (if ur name is crossed off, i couldn't tag you)

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress @absolute-memegarbage @teenybean @psychickryptonitebouquet @screamsin-gay @marvelwomenarehot0 @ctrlaltedits

[loveesiren]

𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾

Thanos x American!reader

a/n: hi my babies! so this is my first thanos (choi su-bong) fic i'm posting. however, i kind of wrote this as an aftermath of a little series i've been working on of them in the games. so, once i am done hating it and editing it, i will posit it! but i hope you guys enjoy this cute lil fluff. i suck at writing fluff tbh but i tried! xx also, t.o.p is my gwiyomiii, my honeyyyy, my angel babyyyyyyyyy! i'm so inlove with him so feel free to send requests!

synopsis: nightmares of the games still haunt Thanos a year later, but luckily Y/n will never leave his side.

warnings: language, fluff, very brief mention of sex if you squint

wc: 1.1k+

You couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had wrapped itself around your mind ever since surviving the games last year, a constant shadow in your otherwise bright new life. You had so much to be grateful for—making it out alive, the money that had saved you in more ways than one, and, of course, Su-Bong. Though, to this day, you still called him T. Your T.

Never in a million years would you have imagined living in a sleek penthouse in downtown Seoul with a man you fell in love with while playing deadly children’s games. Yet here you were, in a world that once seemed as unreachable as a dream: Thanos’ World. And you loved it.

The games had changed Thanos in ways you never thought possible. He quit the drugs, buried his oversized ego, and spent six months holed up in his apartment with only you for company. It was a metamorphosis you never expected but cherished deeply. When he finally emerged from that cocoon of self-reflection, he returned to music—his first true love. But this time, it wasn’t about sex, drugs, and wealth. His lyrics delved into the rawness of his childhood, the pain of his struggles, the weight of his dreams—and you. Always you. You were his muse.

Being with the Thanos, however, was far from simple. Going out with him was an ordeal, a gamble. Fans flocked to him wherever he went, now more than ever, since he’d announced his new album. He once thrived on the chaos, basking in the adoration of women throwing themselves at him and men idolizing him. He was a star, and he reveled in the glow. But now? Now the attention suffocated him. He avoided crowded places as much as he could, especially when you were by his side.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off—God, he did. But the fear gnawed at him. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? You’d already faced your fair share of vitriol when the media leaked that Thanos was dating some American girl. “American bitch,” they’d called you, throwing their venom your way in tabloids and comment sections. But the hate didn’t break you. If anything, it hardened your resolve.

You refused to let him hide away forever. When his anxiety tried to keep him tethered to the penthouse, you were the one who dragged him out into the world. You reminded him of what life outside these walls could offer, even if it wasn’t always kind. And slowly, piece by piece, you were helping him reclaim it.

You glanced over at Thanos, his peaceful face softened by sleep, his arm draped lazily over your bare thighs. Carefully, you lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb him. Padding toward the kitchen, you glanced at the clock: 2:30 a.m. Another sleepless night. You sighed, the weight of endless insomnia pressing down on you.

You set the kettle to boil, deciding tea wouldn’t cut it tonight. The staleness of the room felt suffocating. What you needed was air. Before stepping out to the balcony, you peeked into the bedroom again, reassured by the steady rise and fall of Thanos’ chest.

The view of Seoul stretched before you as you stepped outside. The city pulsed with quiet energy, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the breeze, mingling with the night air and brushing your hair across your face. This view, this life—it was something you’d never take for granted.

Pulling out your phone, you typed a quick message to Se-mi.

y/n: You up?

Minutes passed before your phone buzzed with a reply.

Se-mi: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

y/n: The insomnia is never-ending.

Se-mi: I miss when we all lived together.

Your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Memories of those first fragile weeks after escaping the games flooded your mind. The four of you—Thanos, Se-mi, Min-su, and you—crammed into your tiny apartment, clinging to each other for sanity. For weeks, you barely left the safety of those walls. Eventually, Thanos invited everyone to move in with him, but Se-mi and Min-su had decided it was time to go back to their families. The games had taught them how precious life was. That, and your shared space wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy—especially with how loud things could get between you and Thanos when you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother.

y/n: I miss it too. I miss you. Shopping tomorrow?

Se-mi: You know I hate shopping.

y/n: But you love me, and T gave me his black card.

Se-mi: Spoiled brat.

y/n: See you tomorrow 🥰

Se-mi: Can’t wait ✌🏼

You smiled at her response, warmth spreading through you at the thought of reconnecting with your best friend. But the moment of peace was shattered by a sound from inside—faint whimpers carried through the air. Your heart clenched. Setting your tea down, you hurried back to the bedroom.

“T?” you called softly as you stepped inside.

No response. Only the faint cries that sent chills down your spine. You rushed to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Thanos was thrashing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands grasping desperately at the empty space where you should have been.

“Fuck! NO!” he suddenly screamed, his voice hoarse with panic.

“T!” you gasped, climbing onto the bed and pulling him into your arms. “T, baby…” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand found your shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist as though clinging to reality. He fought against the demons clawing at him, his breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, until they locked onto yours. His lip quivered as shame filled his expression.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb tenderly across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His shame was palpable, but you held him tightly, cradling him as though the weight of his nightmares could be eased by your embrace.

“Another nightmare?” you asked softly. He nodded wordlessly, slipping his hand into yours. He hated these moments. Hated the way his past still haunted him, dragging you into his darkness. But you didn’t mind. You’d made a decision long ago: this man was worth every struggle, every sleepless night. Some may say a few days isn’t enough time to know who is your person, but when your life is on the line, time has a way of fast-tracking love.

“M’sorry…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, T,” you reassured him, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. “You know I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

You kissed his forehead, tightening your arms around him. “Promise,” you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

No taglist yet but if you'd like to be added to future fics, let me know! :)

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

im sorry this might not be the place to ask for advice/help but im doomscrolling about the news and the soon to be president and im seeing so much to be scared shitless about, invasions, removal of vaccines, cost of living increases, revoking of trans rights and how it might make it all the more impossible to get the surgeries i wanted... its just too fucking scary to breathe right now what do i do with myself

Hey, Anon. I'm here. A lot of us are here right with you.

It's scary, to be sure. And I'm not going to sugarcoat the possibilities of things going south very quickly. So, let's jump into some survival tactics.

This post on burnout is a great place to start. There is a lot of overlap with burnout and the anxiety you're feeling.

Allow yourself to slow down and unplug. You are allowed to step away from the news cycle -- events out of your control will unfold regardless.

Don't feel guilty by letting yourself relax. I find it especially helpful to do activities that don't involve the internet -- I've been decorating my house, mending broken crockery, and sketching some embroidery ideas. I try to take the time to get dressed and groomed every day, to remind myself that I matter. I spend more time outdoors.

As you find the ability to relax, you'll be able to focus better on the things you can do to be resilient. Things I have been doing to improve myself and make me a better helper:

Staying on top of my medical appointments and any preventive care I can do

Working to be physically healthier overall to mitigate future medical issues

Getting all my paperwork in order, including passports

Tweaking my financial budget

Researching what estate & family documentation needs to be done to protect my relationship in case my marriage gets dissolved

Brushing up on job skills, getting new certifications to stay competitively employable

Stocking up on my medical and general emergency supplies, especially for bad weather events

Getting in the habit of mindful purchases, curbing my habit of impulse shopping

Selling things I don't want or need anymore to have a little extra money and be able to move house easier, if need be

Building a habit of fixing/maintaining my possessions instead of trashing broken things

Canceling online subscriptions and quitting social networks that make me feel in danger

Getting my personal and any queer-related files out of the cloud and onto redundant solid state drives

Downloading / printing out queer resources and buying queer art that may be banned or monitored in the future

Enjoying physical media again and hunting for old favorites

Keeping in touch with queer friends and allies and making plans in case people (even myself) need to flee

Being visible when I can and knowing when it's best to lay low

Allowing myself the luxury to dig into things Old Me would have saved for "special" events -- aka, wearing the nice clothes and eating off the fine china as an everyday thing

Shutting the fuck up, especially online, when I think my words could be used against me

In a way, I am trying to simply become a better version of myself, one who is calm & self-sufficient, mindful about his actions, and available to help those in need. It sucks that the driving factor is fear, but I intend to use that fear as a catalyst to be stronger and survive.

There is a lot to be done, but there was always going to be work, new regime or not. But please, start with that burnout article so you can jump into your own plans with new hope and energy. ❤️

[flowersforbucky]

omg, i'm so excited to make my way through your masterlist after reading this. idk how i missed this when you first posted it but i'm so happy to have read it NOW. i loved each and every one of the 13k words. thoughts under the cut -

"must own insane stock in eyedrops" 💀😂

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

this is so descriptive 🤌🏻

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

ahhh i love the way you described how her powers feel! i always love both writing and reading empath readers and you're killing it!

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

literally stunning the way you worded all of this my god

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

“Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

i can so clearly hear logan saying all of the dialogue that you write for him

the scene of her helping him through the nightmare and him asking her to stay and they cuddled? yeah i ate that shit UP

i loved the whole scene between reader and wade! i feel like a lot of people struggle to get wade's characterization right (myself included) but the way you wrote his dialogue came across so naturally.

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

damn i know i shouldn't be turned on rn but something is wrong with me so

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

YEAH GET HIM!!!!

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

soooo happy he's being open and letting her in ♡♡♡

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

whatever you say baby 😩😩😩

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

YA ACTUALLY I DO THANKS FOR ASKING

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

LORDDD I LOVE DIRTY TALKING LOGAN

i truly cannot say enough incredible things about this entire fic. i was so invested from the very beginning. it has so many tropes that i adore and you just really knocked it out of the park. worst logan has a special place in my heart and i just really adored the way you wrote both him and reader. this was flawless, magnificent, truly a beautiful piece.

Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV.  You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it. 

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops. 

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane. 

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull. 

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you. 

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice. 

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile. 

+++

The Void was bullshit. 

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here. 

Maybe. 

You weren’t really sure.  

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying. 

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in. 

Figure out a way back to him. 

Back home. 

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to. 

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam. 

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there. 

Just in case. 

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere. 

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly. 

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count. 

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction. 

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight. 

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?” 

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—” 

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form. 

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.” 

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air. 

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint. 

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue. 

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air. 

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield. 

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp. 

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight. 

His silent encouragement is enough. 

You are not dying in the fucking Void. 

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm. 

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black. 

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you. 

+++

You wake up in the cache. 

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat. 

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan. 

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse. 

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.” 

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion. 

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating. 

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his. 

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism. 

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness. 

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.” 

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low. 

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough. 

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry. 

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone. 

But you can’t think about it. 

Not now. 

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Logan. 

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally. 

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.” 

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you. 

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here. 

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into. 

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space. 

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests. 

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes. 

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up. 

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine. 

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe. 

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope. 

Logan huffs. “Probably not.” 

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to. 

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly. 

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.” 

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.” 

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on. 

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself. 

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. 

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting. 

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him. 

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick. 

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies. 

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her. 

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides. 

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice. 

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips. 

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.” 

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead. 

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle. 

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly. 

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?” 

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls. 

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom. 

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits. 

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself. 

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind. 

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.  

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one. 

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating. 

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it. 

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.” 

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear. 

“I am your home,” you reply softly. 

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate. 

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer. 

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air. 

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours. 

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need. 

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like. 

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion. 

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage. 

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement. 

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws. 

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole. 

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”. 

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain. 

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head. 

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue. 

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain. 

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders. 

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it. 

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants. 

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him. 

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours. 

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws. 

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful. 

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep. 

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel. 

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh. 

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes. 

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you. 

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction. 

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips. 

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming. 

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly. 

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest. 

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready. 

“I will never get tired of looking at you,�� you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements. 

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock. 

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation. 

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan. 

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.” 

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest. 

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you. 

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back. 

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck. 

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake. 

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs. 

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you. 

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you. 

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full. 

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart. 

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.” 

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him. 

[diaryofawhoretbh]

fine line pt.2 | thanos (choi su-bong)

REQUESTED by: @pillowcolorsstuff = "Could you make it like a part 2 of this thin line | thanos (choi su-bong)? like with thanos and his group having a cute moment with the pregnant reader?"

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none

hope you like it!!! enjoy :)

the dormitory was dimly lit, its cold steel walls doing little to ward off the chill of the night. the faint hum of the overhead lights buzzed like white noise, but within your little group, there was warmth; an unspoken connection that had formed over time, despite the brutal games you all faced.

you sat on a makeshift mattress on the floor, leaning against the wall as su-bong sat beside you, his presence grounding. to everyone he was thanos, but to you, he would always be your sweet su-bong. no matter how cocky he seemed to everyone else. his hand rested lightly on your belly, his thumb moving in soft, slow circles over the fabric of your jacket. every so often, he'd glance at you, his gaze soft and filled with concern, checking to see if you were comfortable. it was a tenderness he usually reserved only for you, something that made your heart swell every time.

"are you sure you ate enough señorita?" his deep voice was low, barely a whisper, as he spoke, his lips brushing your ear in a way that sent a warm shiver down your spine.

you rolled your eyes playfully, feeling his breath on your skin, but smiled all the same. "for the third time, yes, i'm fine babe."

he chuckled softly, squeezing your hand in reassurance before gently touching your belly again, his fingers tracing the curve of it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "you better eat. that's not just your baby, it's mine too." his tone was playful, but there was a serious undercurrent to it. his hand stayed on your stomach, warm and steady, like he was anchoring both you and the baby in place.

you couldn't help but smile at the way he said it, his words so full of quiet devotion that it made your chest ache. "you're really serious about this whole dad thing, huh?"

"hell yeah," he said, his grin turning a bit cheeky, as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, soft but lingering. "you're stuck with me, remember? we’re in this together."

you chuckled, feeling a light flush creep up your neck at his affectionate words. "well, i guess that's not the worst thing," you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

the sound of nam-gyu’s voice interrupted the moment. "here," he piped up from the other side of su-bong, ripping his bread in half and holding it out like it was the most natural thing in the world. "you've gotta take this. the little bean's hungry."

"nam-gyu, you haven't eaten anything yourself," you protested, shaking your head.

he waved off your concern with a dramatic flourish. "i'm not growing a whole human in me, am i?" he said with a grin, clearly proud of himself for making the offer.

"take mine too," se-mi added, sliding her milk carton toward you with a smile. "seriously, it's not even that good."

"guys, i'm fine," you said, a laugh bubbling in your chest at how insistent they all were.

"fine isn't enough," min-su shyly cut in, setting his entire bread ration next to nam-gyu’s. he didn’t even look at you as he spoke, like it was just something that had to be done. "you need more energy."

"for real," gyeong-su agreed, pushing his milk and half his bread toward you. "you're carrying the only good thing in this whole place. we've gotta make sure you're okay."

you glanced at the small pile of food in front of you, feeling a mix of gratitude and exasperation. "if i eat all of this, i'm going to be too full to move," you teased, looking at each of them in turn.

"good," su-bong said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you. "then you won't try to do everything yourself for once."

you laughed, shaking your head at his playfulness. but before you could take another bite, su-bong’s gaze softened, and he leaned closer to you, his lips brushing your temple in the gentlest of kisses. "how’s the little bean doing?" he asked quietly, his hand still resting on your belly.

you smiled, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest. "good, i think. still quiet, though."

"let me know if they kick," he said, his voice full of anticipation. "i wanna feel it."

"maybe soon," you replied, placing your hand over his, letting the warmth between you spread.

the group chuckled, the sound light and warm—a small reprieve from the weight of the games. you picked up one of the bread pieces and took a bite, knowing they wouldn't take no for an answer.

but su-bong’s eyes never left you, his focus completely on you and the baby. every now and then, he’d glance down at your belly, his thumb still tracing gentle patterns. "you’re glowing," he said suddenly, his voice low, full of admiration. "i don’t know how you do it. carrying a little human and still looking like this..."

you rolled your eyes, but you could feel your heart fluttering in your chest, warmth spreading through you at the way he looked at you. "you’re too sweet," you teased, your fingers brushing the side of his hand.

his smirk turned softer, and he leaned down to kiss you, a slow, lingering press of his lips against yours. when he pulled back, his eyes were full of warmth and affection. "you better eat, though," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "we’ve got a lot to look forward to."

you smiled, your heart swelling at his words, feeling safe, loved, and cherished in that moment. "i will," you promised softly, feeling the warmth of the kiss still lingering on your lips. "for both of you."

"good," su-bong whispered, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before settling back beside you. his hand never left your belly, his touch gentle and reassuring. "i can’t wait to meet the little one."

you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as you allowed yourself to relax for the first time that day. in a world full of chaos, in a place that had taken so much from you, su-bong was your safe place, and you were grateful for every second with him.

and in the silence of the dormitory, with the soft hum of the lights above and the gentle rhythm of su-bong’s hand on your belly, you found a sense of peace, knowing that no matter what came next, you would face it together.

su-bong’s thumb continued to trace circles on your belly, the gesture so tender and constant that it grounded you in the present moment. as the others settled around you, each offering their own quiet support in their own ways, your heart swelled. it wasn’t just the baby that had changed everything—it was the way your little family, however unconventional, had grown. the way su-bong was always there, always protective and loving, in his own unique way.

"you’re gonna be the best dad," you said, breaking the silence, your voice soft but sincere. you didn’t need to look at him to know his eyes were already on you, filled with that rare kind of tenderness he only showed when it was just the two of you.

"you think so?" su-bong’s voice was low, almost teasing, but there was a slight vulnerability behind it, one that only you could see. he shifted closer to you, his lips brushing against your cheek, leaving a soft, lingering kiss. "i’m gonna spoil them. just wait."

you giggled, imagining what he’d do with a baby in his arms. "i don’t think they’ll ever get any sleep with you around," you teased, looking up at him through your lashes.

he grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "maybe not, but they’ll definitely know they’re loved."

you were about to reply when, just as if on cue, a tiny flutter shifted beneath your hand. a kick. you blinked in surprise, glancing down at your belly.

"did you feel that?" you asked, your voice full of wonder, a smile spreading across your face.

su-bong’s eyes widened as he immediately moved his hand to your stomach, his touch gentle but firm. "yeah, i felt it!" his voice was full of excitement, and you could see the joy lighting up his face. "oh my god, they kicked! did they know i was talking about them?"

you laughed, feeling a rush of affection for both him and the little one growing inside you. "i think they just wanted to remind you they’re in there," you teased, placing his hand firmly on your belly so he could feel the baby’s movements again.

"hey," he said, leaning in closer, his voice almost a whisper. "if they kick again, i swear, i’m gonna lose my mind. that’s my baby."

you smiled at his enthusiasm, your heart swelling with warmth. "they’re already a little troublemaker, just like you," you teased, running your fingers through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, still completely engrossed in the feeling of the baby moving.

the others seemed to have settled into a quiet rhythm, but nam-gyu, ever the playful one, couldn’t help himself. "man, you’re gonna be the type to cry when they’re born, huh?" he called from across the room, his voice teasing but with a hint of affection.

"shut up, nam-gyu," su-bong muttered, though there was no bite in his words. you could tell he was actually a little embarrassed by the idea, but the truth was—you could see it in his eyes. he would be that kind of dad.

"i’m not crying," su-bong added, his voice more serious now, though still full of that sweet affection. "but i am gonna be there for every moment. for you. for them."

the way he said it made your heart flutter, and you leaned in to kiss him softly on the lips. when you pulled away, you saw the softness in his eyes, the deep sincerity behind his usual tough exterior.

"i know," you whispered back, placing your hand gently over his, still resting on your belly. "and i’ll be here too. always."

he smiled, his thumb brushing over the swell of your belly one more time before leaning back against the wall, still holding you close. "we’re gonna be a good team, huh?"

you nodded, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. "yeah, we are."

the warmth of his embrace, the quiet hum of the room, and the subtle kick from your little one filled the space around you, creating a sense of calm that contrasted sharply with the chaos of everything outside. in this small, dimly lit room, you were surrounded by love—by su-bong, by the little one, and by the strange, beautiful family that had formed amidst all the chaos.

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the sound of su-bong’s steady breathing and the soft pressure of his hand on your belly reassure you. no matter what came next, no matter what the future held, you had this—this bond, this love, this little family. and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could face anything.

"you ready for this?" su-bong asked quietly, his voice a gentle murmur against your ear.

"always," you whispered back.

and with that, the two of you, and the tiny life between you, settled into the stillness of the night, hearts beating in unison as the world outside continued to turn, indifferent to the quiet, perfect moment you had carved out together.

[cadrenebula]

I'm Nebula and I'm a gamer, reader, gposer, writer, and roleplayer. Not quite as active on here as I used to be though I still am here. (The joys of being an adult working full time.) I pretty much only post XIV content on this blog, mainly for my RP characters. I have a side blog I reblog ooc randomness and art on dragonskies (in case you see reblogs from my side blog.)

I have a small horde (my cadre) of characters that I rotate around in my brain but can focus on whatever character I am interacting with someone on. (I very much still need to update their carrd. Especially for the newest characters. Sorry. XD) They range from a adventurer turned mother to a revenge seeking garlean. I have 15 characters in total with a small handful of supporting npcs you will commonly see them with in screenshots or writing. (Important note: You do Not need mods to interact with me just because some of my characters have them to accurately represent what I feel they look like. I do my best to describe what the game can't reflect to the average player.)

While I might not always have the energy or brain for creativity, I will do my best at communication about this on discord or game. But I am always down for tossing memes back and forth or just chatting about others things outside of XIV too. :D (Other games? Books currently being read? Character ideas or snippets of interaction on a specific thing that doesn't necessarily need a whole RP scene? :D Friends beyond RP is always a plus.)

Hi all! New year, new outreach post. Which means...

🫵 You

Yes, you! Are you a Final Fantasy XIV blog? I am looking for more people to follow!

Specifically, I like to use these posts as an excuse for a bit of community outreach and to find new blogs and people I might not know of otherwise! If your blog is primarily XIV orientated, or you have a sideblog, please like/reblog this post so myself and anyone else looking for people to follow can have a look through. You never know who you might meet or friends you'll make.

Am I following you already? Too bad, someone new to the community might not be! Let them know you're around!

Under the read more is my own introduction, but I absolutely welcome people to reblog this post and add their own. ✨ Tell me (and others) about you! If you're shy, I promise I don't bite.

If you don't know me, my name is Sea. If you do, I'm still Sea. (See what I did there?)

I'm a jack-of-all trades gposer, writer and roleplayer, with far too many oc's!

You might know me from my various projects including, but not limited to; Sea's Community Compendium (with updates posted here); Sea's Character Questions, including my single-word fic drive; and The Fireside! I'm also an officer of Firelight Trading Company <FTC> on Balmung and run a casual Tumblr Community / Discord over at SEAFLOOR!

I also have a permanent interaction call you can like here for any dash games!

Thanks for reading this far, have a great day. 🐋

[coloursoflovelustlife]

I am in a kind of hibernation mode. Not much activity, reading books, admiring my cacti, not painting much (available paintings can still be found on my website btw- I need to clear the stock for new paintings, when the mood will be back ;) ) - and it feels good and peaceful, while the world is literally burning.

I see my duty in holding a peaceful space and anchoring high energy in our systems and planet. I won't support human ego wars and dramas anymore, by no means.

[sugarplumfairy777]

🧁⊹ ࣪ ˖🍦₊˚⊹♡🍰#iamgodduh

I Am God. It’s time to wake up and realize who you really are. You are God. There’s no more pretending, no more looking outside yourself for answers. You hold the power, you create your reality, and nothing, not a single thing can stand in your way once you fully embrace this truth. The universe doesn’t control you, it responds to you. You are the one who sets the tone. You are the force that shapes the world around you. Stop giving away your power. You are not a victim of your circumstances. You are not waiting for permission from anyone, or some higher being, or a series of events. You are it. You have always been the one in charge. Every desire you have, every dream you want to chase—those things are already yours. They exist because you decided they would. And the moment you choose to own that power, everything shifts. Manifestation isn’t some mystical, out-of-reach thing. It’s you remembering that you have the ability to pull anything into existence. Want something? It’s already done. The moment you believe that, the moment you stop doubting your own divinity, the world around you has no choice but to reflect it. You are the creator, the architect, the god of your own universe. When you own that, everything starts to move in your favor. It’s time to stop questioning. Stop waiting for signs. You are the sign. You are the one who creates. You are the one who bends reality. The universe doesn’t work on its own schedule, it moves when you move. It shifts when you make the decision that you’ve had enough of waiting for things to happen. It’s time to create what you want. Right now. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Now. You are powerful beyond measure. Your mind is the tool that shapes everything. Your energy is the force that calls in everything you’ve ever wanted. And let me tell you something: no one, and I mean NO ONE, can take that from you. You are the divine in human form. There is no higher power. There is only you; god.

Pure consciousness is your natural state. It’s not something you have to work toward or search for. It’s not some far-off destination you’re trying to reach. It’s already inside of you, your god. It’s who you are, right here, right now. The moment you stop identifying with the noise of the world, the distractions, and the endless chatter in your mind, you begin to realize the power that resides within you. Pure consciousness is the space where you are everything and nothing at once. It’s where you drop all the layers that you’ve built around yourself your fears, your doubts, your limiting beliefs and you realize you are the observer of all things. You are the creator, the energy, the force behind every single moment. Inducing pure consciousness isn’t a hard task, but it requires trust. You have to trust in the fact that you are already whole. That you are already powerful. That you don’t need to “do” anything to be worthy of what you want. You don’t need to beg for life to give you what you deserve. You already are the life you want. The more you realize that, the more everything around you begins to reflect it. Your thoughts become clear, your desires become obvious, and your reality shifts effortlessly into alignment with who you truly are. In pure consciousness, there is no need to chase. There is no need for constant action or striving. It’s not about forcing things to happen; it’s about realizing that everything you want is already happening. Your power is in your awareness. The more you become conscious of the fact that you are the creator of your reality, the more everything begins to flow. You align with your desires simply by knowing you are them. Pure consciousness is where you transcend the idea of separation. There is no “outside world” when you’re in it. There’s only you, the infinite, boundless energy that flows through all things. You stop feeling like you’re chasing something because you already are everything you want. You don’t need to force anything. You don’t need to try to become something more. You already are that power. You are the energy that creates worlds. Your mind is the tool that shapes your reality. When you are in pure consciousness, you are in complete alignment with the universe, and everything you desire is already on its way to you. This is not some abstract idea. This is the truth of who you are. Own it. Realize that you are the one who creates. The universe is simply a reflection of your consciousness. There is no higher power outside of you, there is only you. You are the force that shapes reality. When you embody this truth, everything becomes possible. Nothing is out of reach because you are the one reaching. Stop waiting for things to fall into place. Stop looking for external signs. You are the sign. You are the creator of your world. You are infinite. You are everything. You are home. You are “I am”.

[echo-riot]

Uh, I’m borderline obsessed with jock!Vi so..heres another Drabble? Short story? Yeah. (I need it)

Sweat and All That Comes With It

Summary: You won’t kiss a sweaty and smelly Vi after her game

Warnings: None (besides fluff ig)

•||——————————————————————||•

You were waiting outside the rink, leaning against the familiar chain-link fence, your phone in one hand and a water bottle in the other. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above you buzzed against the muffled cheers and clamor coming from the building behind you. The final whistle had blown fifteen minutes ago, and you knew Vi would be out any second now.

You hadn’t even looked up when you heard the distinctive scuff of heavy boots on the pavement, followed by a familiar voice calling out to you.

“Hey, babe!”

You glanced up, and there she was: sweaty, flushed, and grinning like a goddamn idiot. Her magenta hair was plastered to her forehead, the longer strands sticking out at odd angles as if she’d spent the entire game running her hands through it. She had her gear slung over one shoulder, her jersey still on, but unzipped to reveal the white tank top underneath. That tank top, by the way, was soaked with sweat.

Vi looked every bit like the athlete she was—exhausted, bruised, and absolutely disgusting

“Hey, you,” you said, smiling despite yourself. There was something endearing about how she always seemed so full of energy, even after what had to have been an exhausting game.

“Did you see that goal in the third period?” she asked, dropping her gear bag with a heavy thud. “Snuck it right past the goalie, top shelf!” She mimicked the motion, her grin widening as she stepped closer to you.

You nodded, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, I saw it. You were on fire out there.”

Vi puffed out her chest proudly, clearly soaking in the praise. “Damn right I was. The other team didn’t stand a chance.”

As she reached you, she leaned down, clearly aiming to plant a sweaty kiss on your lips, but you raised a hand between you before she could.

“Whoa, hold up,” you said, laughing nervously as you stepped back.

Vi blinked, confused. “What?”

“You’re disgusting,” you replied, matter-of-factly, wrinkling your nose. “There’s no way I’m kissing you when you’re like this.”

She stared at you, incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘like this’? I’m fine!”

You gestured vaguely at her. “Vi, you’re drenched. I can smell you from here.”

“Okay, rude,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s that bad,” you insisted, trying to stifle a laugh. “You smell like a locker room.”

“Babe, I am a locker room,” she said with a smirk, spreading her arms wide as if to say, Take me as I am

You took another step back, shaking your head. “Absolutely not.”

Vi sighed dramatically, dropping her arms and slumping her shoulders. “You’re really gonna do me like this? After I poured my heart and soul into that game?”

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “Because I have standards.”

“Standards,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at you. “You’re telling me you’ve got standards, but you’re dating me?”

“Exactly,” you said, crossing your arms. “And those standards include not kissing my sweaty, gross girlfriend right after practice.”

Vi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re killing me, babe.”

“I’m saving myself,” you shot back, smirking

She stared at you for a moment, her lips twitching as if she was trying to keep a straight face. Finally, she broke, a grin spreading across her face as she shook her head.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, grabbing her gear bag and slinging it over her shoulder. “Fine, no kisses. But you’re making it up to me later.”

“Oh, am I?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in close—just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her, along with the very distinct smell of sweat. “Because I’m not showering until I get my kiss.”

You shoved her away, laughing as she stumbled back, grinning like the little shit she was. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love it,” she called over her shoulder as she started walking toward her car.

You couldn’t argue with that.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of her car, the windows rolled down because, as you’d warned her, she did smell like a locker room. Vi, to her credit, didn’t seem bothered by it.

She had one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on her thigh. The soft hum of the radio filled the silence between you, and every now and then, she’d glance over at you with that same cocky grin she always wore when she thought she’d won.

“You’re really not gonna kiss me?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Nope,” you said, staring out the window.

“Not even a little one?”

“Not even a little one.”

Vi sighed, shaking her head. “You’re brutal.”

“You’ll live,” you said, glancing at her. “And maybe next time, you’ll shower before trying to kiss me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she muttered, but there was a playful glint in her eye that told you she wasn’t actually mad.

By the time you got back to her place, Vi had given up on trying to convince you to kiss her and had instead resorted to dramatically lamenting her fate as a “neglected” girlfriend

“You’re gonna look back on this and regret it,” she said as she unlocked the door. “You’ll be like, ‘Wow, I really should’ve kissed Vi when I had the chance.’”

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” you replied, stepping inside.

Vi dropped her gear bag by the door and kicked off her boots, turning to look at you with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, fine. If you won’t kiss me now, you at least owe me a cuddle after I shower.”

“Deal,” you said, smiling

Vi grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek before you could stop her.

“Vi!” you exclaimed, swatting at her as she darted toward the bathroom, laughing.

“Relax, babe,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll be fresh and clean in ten minutes. Then you’ll have no excuse.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you flopped onto the couch, shaking your head. She was ridiculous, sure, but she was your ridiculous. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[wings-of-ink]

Hello everyone!

I just wanted to pop in and say hey and give some updates. They're all very mild, but I feel like I've been quiet lately so I wanted to pop something out here for you so you get a feel for where I'm headed.

I have some asks that have piled up and I will be chipping away at them here and there. I had a weird week that I am recovering from, and my mind has been super unfocused lately. I'm doing better now, but had a bout with a few days of insomnia and anxiety. I am already a sleepy-sad mess in the winter, so this does me no favors. I'm popping in when I have some bursts of energy. Your asks and comments have made me smile, think, and get pumped for the days to come though, so I thank you for that. ^_^

Even though my energy is down, I am still finding enjoyment in working on some of the extras! Even if I can only work in short bursts, it's helped me find some respite. I have worked out a short-form character creation for the Cursed Birthday extra. I also have that outlined. My goal is to have that released by the end of this month!

I still plan on opening a Patreon soon, but I have kept putting it on the back burner as I focus on just making it through this time of year, lol. I am just so stupid-tired most of the evening when I have free time and am very over it. In future years, I'll be working ahead during the other seasons and then take a solid block of time between December and January off. I vote that we hibernate.

Before I open up Patreon, I want to have some work banked up and ready to go. Part of the benefits will be voting on what you want to read, but I need to have some basis to go off of for that and content to put out in between. I'll post some teasers and samples so you can see if the extras I have in store will tickle your fancy. I have a running list of both SFW and NSFW extras I'd like to write. Someone asked me earlier to spill (leak) some of my tea on these, so I will happily share a few things I have cooking in my noggin.

Regular (mild) Extras: * A series of stories about being "snowed in" with each of the ROs and how they spend the day with MC. * Each RO will get character-specific stories, featuring cute and romantic moments for things like Zahn's birthday or baking cakes with Oswin.

Spicy Extras: * A series of tales that are erotic dreams that the MC has while traveling with the group. Anything can happen here. * Each RO will have stories featuring spicy content relative to their character's desires. For example, in the first month of Patreon, Oswin will be featured in the spicy tier. The story is titled, "Honey," and is interactive. You can use your imagination. (shout out to the anon who already read my mind and called me on this, lol)

**Addendum** I remember what else I was going to include here so I'm editing. I have some corrections (typos and grammar and such) and a patch for Zahn's moment in Chapter 5 to put through but I cannot get the itch "Butler" application to work on my laptop still. I can't patch without breaking saves all over again. I am trying to find another computer I can do this on so I don't break saves just for a patch.

I think those were the main bits I wanted to touch on (hell if I actually remember, lol). I am recovering from my weird week and am happy it's the weekend. My new kitties are doing fabulous as well. They are very cute and keep me on my toes. Oh, and Arlo knows how to open doors, so there's that. Miles, who was very shy at first, has become a sweet little socialite too.

Arlo just looks grumpy, but he is an absolute ham.

Miles likes to lay with his feets dangling.

[lunaroracleofvenus]

What manifestation technique is best designed for you? PAC

Left to Right

Pile one

This is my pile of witches and warlocks. The best way you manifest is through spells, and rituals. You have magic in your blooddddd hunnyy.  You might be highly mythical, intuitive, and just divine. Use this divine nature in a creative way, and all you desire shall manifest… this could be through glamour magic, love spells, abundance spells..

Pile two

These are my divine feminines. This pile best manifests by setting intentions and going with the flow. Working with the feminine via moon rituals, water element or just that shakti power will draw all you desire to you… there is a huge theme of co-creation and just feminine energy. This pile might need to release what doesn’t work emotionally and truly tap into their feminine wisdom when it comes to manifesting… what works for you, might not work for everyone else and that is okay… you might be alone in this power…

Pile three

This pile best manifest by mastering the earth element. This pile might be able to use scripting to manifest or just using the natural element to manifest. Could use some earthy/elemental witchcraft….

 But what i am hearing most is having self compassion and really devoting yourself to what you are trying to manifest = fruition of the desire. This might look like manifesting one thing at a time, and while you are manifesting it, you sleep, breath, and dream it. You continuously tap into the desire, and deeply ground yourself into the feeling consistently. Though remember balance, and leave a bit of space for life and your mental health. The whole saying, let it go and detachment for manifesting, DOES NOT apply to you. Your attachment to it really creates it…. This might be my obsessive manifestors… do you guys have any strong pluto in your charts btw???

Pile four

So there’s a lot of overdoing in this pile, and anxiety. There might be a lot of freezing and overthinking when it comes to choosing and sticking to what you are attempting to create. Rest assured it’s okay to feel how you feel at this moment. Rest assured that things will and can get better. Spirit is saying just remember to be ambitious, flexible but also grounded. Listen to where your intuition is guiding you. Manifesting isn’t supposed to add MORE problems to life. Like life can be difficult enough… stop taking it so seriously tbh. Like yes you can create change, but you create change in little and big practical ways everyday. From the moment you choose to brush your teeth, to the moment you decide on studying. Didn’t get much of a method for this pile! You might need to give manifesting a break and come back to it…

Pile five 

This pile might manifest best through chaos, and destruction. You seem to create great things from dark places. Where people see destruction, you see a moment to create. You might be really good at seeing people’s potential, and helping them shift into that.. How you can effectively use this power for yourself to manifest, I think is by doing shadow work, emotionally releasing rituals, and working with darker goddesses/gods. 

For example, let’s say you wanted to manifest a home, maybe journal about blockages you might have.. Do you feel undeserving? Do you feel its unattainable? Or maybe there is a childhood wound? Once you understand your depth, choose a ritual to release it, and then maybe channel those same feelings into getting what u want or set your desired intentions after you have released what doesn’t serve you?

Also,  I don’t know how to properly describe but channeling anger, fear and etc might work really well for you… being put through trials and tribulations might also work well for you… hopefully y’all get what im trying to put down <3

This pile gives me the vibe of the type of people that go through the most horrible break up and 6 months later, they look good asf and they make 5x times what they used to make…

Pile six

this is a very Venusian pile. This pile manifests best through instruments, dance, and music. Also having a communion with god as well… speaking to god, letting god/goddess know what you want.. Keeping that relationship with spirit will really help you..

Also, gratitude practices might really help you manifest your desired things. and, general affirmations might really work for you. Everything is as it should be. Everything is working out. I feel great.. those type of affirmations!

[seumyo]

tokoyami taking care of you when you’re sick.

“You look like you’re ready to ascend to the afterlife,” Tokoyami said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.

“Maybe I am, Fumi. Maybe this is it for me.”

“You have a mild fever and a sore throat. Hardly fatal.”

“But it feels fatal,” you whined, your voice scratchy. “I’m so weak. I don’t even have the energy to do my nails!” You wiggled your bare fingers in the air for emphasis, looking utterly defeated. “Ugh, they’re naked.”

He tilted his head, his beak twitching in what might have been amusement. You could hardly tell. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m not. I can feel my soul leaving my body, Fumi. I’m… so… cold.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for the extra blanket folded at the end of your bed, draping it over you with a sigh. “There. Better?”

“Thank you. I felt like I needed to tell you about my last will and testament.”

“Your sense of drama is impressive,” Tokoyami replied, his tone dry.

“It’s a gift.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry, Fumi. I’ll haunt you lovingly.”

He reached for the tissue box and handed it to you. “You’re not haunting anyone. Blow your nose.”

With a pout, you accepted the tissues and complied. “Ugh, even my sneezes aren’t cute right now,” you muttered, your cheeks flushed not from embarrassment but from your fever.

“Your sneezes are rarely cute,” Tokoyami pointed out.

“Rude,” you sniffled.

Just as you were about to unknowingly fall into a deep slumber, Tokoyami reached for the small tray he’d brought with him, holding a bowl of soup he’d made earlier.

“You need to eat first,” he said. “Eat, then sleep.”

You stared at it like it was the most daunting task in the world. Plus, your exhaustion most likely killed your appetite.

“I don’t think I can lift the spoon.”

He sighed again but didn’t argue. Instead, he carefully picked up the spoon and held it to your lips. “Open.”

You paused. “You’re feeding me?”

“Would you rather starve?”

“No?” So you did as told.

Tokoyami fed you a spoonful of warm soup, a recipe he had to call his mother for, satisfied that you’re complying. “See? Not so hard.”

“Thanks, Fumi. You’re the best nurse ever.”

“I aim to serve,” he replied dryly, though you could tell he was pleased.

Such dramatics.

“Fumi?”

You looked at him with bleary eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light illuminating your room. “Fumi,” you said again just as he finished setting the tray aside.

“Yes?”

“If I don’t make it… promise me you’ll keep my sticker collection safe.”

Tokoyami stared at you, his expression utterly unamused. “You’re going to make it.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“I’m not ready to take responsibility for your sticker collection. That is a big responsibility, even for me.”

You laughed, though it was a weak and raspy sound. “You’d love it! There’s so much glitter.”

“Glitter is not my aesthetic.”

“Well, maybe it should be.”

“Well, you should rest,” he shook his head, gently adjusting the blanket around you. “You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

As the hours went on, you grew quieter, your usual energy completely sapped by your cold. Tokoyami stayed by your side, of course, reading quietly while you dozed off just to make sure that there wasn’t anything too concerning with your cold.

He wishes that your sickness would go away sooner because he can’t stand seeing you like this. Though you can always count on him to take care of you, just like in the future vows of, “In sickness, and in health.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Hey Tara, could you do some Toby fluff? Like, specifically a fempov after a nasty breakup...??? Sorry for the weird request ik you usually do smut but I love your style and need some sort of comfort after my boyfriend left me, even if it is just a fictional character... Love you ❤️

-🫀

crown || ticci toby

‘wait, you can’t please everybody’

sum: after a messy breakup you’re undeniably heartbroken and toby wants to make you feel better

tw: unintentionally a little angsty but mostly fluff

a/n: my dearest anon, i am so sorry i just now saw your request. i hope this is not too late and hopefully helps you navigate through your journey and makes you feel a little better. i went through a messy breakup around christmas as well and feel like this resonates with me as well. i’m not the best at writing fluff but i tried, i hope you enjoy and are doing well <3

“I-I found you!”

You could hear that Toby was excited, even as your back was turned to him. You had been curled up in a ball for the past hour, hiding in the attic of the mansion. Dust covered boxes were scattered around the room, your small form perched beside the oval window. You didn’t say anything, unable to match Toby’s typical perky energy. Your knees were tucked to your chest, your gaze settled on the grass outside.

Toby frowned slightly at your lack of a response, the young proxy walking around one of the boxes. “Hey, y-you good?” He asked unsurely. Toby wasn’t good at handling negative emotions, or so he thought. The moonlight gave him a good look at your face, which made his eyes go wide. Bags hung under your eyes, your lips chapped so much they were becoming cracked. Your eyes were undeniably puffy, which he suspected to be from hours of crying. He approached you quickly, squatting down in front of you. He shoved his orange goggles onto his head, licking his own dry lips.

“T-Talk to m-me, what’s wrong?”

The concern lacing Toby’s words was almost enough to send you over the edge again. You inhaled, trying to refrain from more salty tears from escaping your waterline.

“We didn’t workout.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, your ex boyfriend’s name on the tip of your tongue. It felt odd to think about, nevertheless say out loud. Toby’s brain instantly clicked, his bandaged hand reaching out to touch yours. “That’s a g-good thing though r-right? Wasn’t he an asshole towards t-the end anyways?” He asked unsurely. Your eyes were sharp as you met his puppy dog gaze, your flicker of anger immediately diminishing. Instead you took a deep breath, realizing how irrational your scattered emotions were.

In through your nose, out through your mouth.

“It’s not that simple. You don’t know, how horrid the actual breakup was. It was like, the shell of the person I used to know. The man I used to know vanished right before my eyes and got replaced with whatever the fuck he is now,” You rambled. You could feel yourself getting worked up, Toby’s eyes softening as he looked up at you. “I spent so much time, so much time with him and now it’s wasted. Gone. Like it meant nothing at all to him, but it meant everything to me,” You continued. Tears flooded your waterline with ease, painful flashes of memories appearing in your mind. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to stop the tears from flowing. “And I don’t know how i’m supposed to do this. How i’m supposed to waltz around like I know what i’m doing. He was my rock and now he’s gone. It’s like he was never here and I feel like i’m going insane,” You whimpered lowly, unable to stop the tears from free falling.

Toby was never good with dealing with heavy human emotions. Most of the time the responsibility of handling them was handled by someone else in the mansion. But you were the apple of his eye, one his favorite people to walk the planet. So instead he tuned into his instincts, hoping that what he was about to do was even semi socially appropriate. He rose to his feet, sitting across from you on the bench built into the large window. Stretching his long arms outwards he wrapped them around you, pulling you against him abruptly. You tensed for a moment, feeling Toby hold you so close. It wasn’t until your brain registered his warmth and earthy scent that you finally allowed yourself to crumble.

You felt like your lungs were going to collapse, your breath shallow as you nuzzled your face into his chest. Your chest felt tight, your sobs muffled as you cried into his signature jacket. Your soft sounds only made him hold you tighter, the brunette careful to not squeeze you too hard. Toby swallowed, bringing his slender fingers to your hair. Unsurely, he began to stroke it, hoping it would bring you some sort of ease. He continued these actions until you had no tears left to cry, your wheezing now simmering down to deep breaths. “I’m s-sorry I don’t h-have the inhaler,” Toby apologized, regretting leaving it with Tim. (It was in fact Tim’s inhaler).

His sudden outburst made you chuckle, even as a few more stray tears slid down your cheeks. You pulled back a few inches, just enough for Toby to see your face. He didn’t like seeing you like this, so hurt. Without thinking he raised his hand, fingertips grazing your cheek as he tucked some stray hairs behind your ear. “F-Fuck him, you’re the important one, y-you’re the one,” Toby said as confidently as he could muster. You knew his words meant well, even if they didn’t come out the way he meant for them to. He used the pad of his thumb to swipe away the few remaining tears, cupping your cheeks. Your eyes fluttered closed, your face relaxing in the palms of his hands.

Social constructs were a mystery to Toby, truthfully. But he knew in this moment to do what he thought was best. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He ignored any emotion he felt towards the gesture, his attention completely centralized on you. “Y-You know i’m not the b-b-best with words, but I p-promise everything’s gonna be okay,” He mumbled, his chocolate eyes filled with worry as he tried to catch your gaze. Your glassy eyes eventually met his, your bottom lip trembling as you confessed, “He’s the one who left me, Toby.”

You might as well have shot him dead then and there. Toby couldn’t feel pain, due to a list of neurological disorders he couldn’t bother to remember. But he knew for a fact he felt a pang of despair mixed with anger thud in his chest. “P-Piece of shit,” He grumbled, his hands still cupping your cheeks. The animalistic side of Toby wanted to find him, to make him hurt for causing you so much pain. But the soft look in your eyes, the way you were borderline clinging to him, made those thoughts evaporate. You came first. You needed him. You needed Toby more than you needed anyone. Swallowing thickly Toby tilted your head upwards, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re b-better off without him, alright? I never liked him anyways,” Toby started. Maybe this wasn’t the correct way to comfort someone, maybe he should try a different route instead of spewing insults. He dug into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small joint. “It’s n-not much but, we can s-smoke and talk about it,” He offered. This made a sad smile creep up your lips, your hands moving to open the window. “I think i’d like that Toby,” You agreed. You both readjusted in your seats, turning to face the window. Toby admired the moon as you took the joint between your lips, sparking the lighter. Again, social constructs were foreign to him. But as he threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer, he got the sense he made the right decision.