#I will talk about it a lot if you want me to I’m proud of it
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ickyrafe · 2 days ago
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i fuckin love Rafe’s complex about ward. Like in season 2 when he starts wearing ward’s clothes and rings - he’s so pathetic oh my god. He’ll do anything to feel like the man of the house. I think this ties in w a lot of your au’s. Like old-fashioned misogynistic Rafe (housewife kink loud and proud) bc he just uses reader to feel like some alpha male 💀
i think you touched on it before about him fucking reader in ward’s bed - can you elaborate or write a drabble perhaps on how else this complex affects his (could be an any rafe from an au of your choice) relationship with (again- any) reader? I think it’s so twisted and sexy at the same time.
love your work!
-sadie
♥︎_♥︎ his complex with ward & how it effects housewife!reader specifically is speaking to me… cw -> noncon themes, unhingedabuser!rafe, housewife / marriage kink.
it starts with him sending you a glance as you sit at his family’s dining room table. one that you meet with a knowing look, just before he clears his throat and excuses himself, challenging you to come find him like the attentive wife everyone knows you are. and of course you do, ward sending you a warm smile and cracking a joke about rafe’s temper that makes your own smile falter, already feeling his fingers around your throat just from the implication.
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when you tiptoe up the staircase, you see the door to the master bedroom— ward and rose’s room, formerly ward and rafe’s mother’s room long ago— cracked open, rafe clearly pacing about. footsteps muffled by the century old rug beneath his feet as your own are light and calculated, voice airy as you approach him and place a hand on the tense muscles of his upper back.
“rafe, are you okay?”
“yeah, everything’s fuckin’ great,” he sniffles, words bitter as the roll off of his tongue, “he thinks i’m a fuckin’ joke— he thinks that we’re a joke.”
“what are you talking about?”
the way you ask must make something in rafe snap. you’re shoved down onto the crisp duvet, tummy down as your protests are completely ignored and your dress is hitched up around your hips.
“rafe, we can’t here.” your words come out in hushed cries as you try your best to reason with him, but also not wanting to alarm anyone of what’s happening by any means.
“just— shut the fuck up f’r a second.” he snarls, yanking your panties down your twitching thighs before the same hand he used trails up your back, holding you down by the scruff of your neck. “you shouldn’t be fightin’ me off like that— i put that pretty ring on your finger to use you how i want to, brat.”
the sound of his belt being undone makes your heart sink, while your face his pressed up against bedding that smells like his father— yet rafe’s own scent lingers, too. it’s something you recognize, something that makes you dizzy before he even spits on your cunt and stuffs you full of his cock. you keen, still fighting to get up despite the way you’re pinned down but it’s mostly because you want to see rafe’s face. you want to feel him deeper as he folds you in half, you want to be his good little wife…
but it’s not something you can afford at the moment it seems.
not when he’s baring his teeth and knocking the air out of your lungs with each of his thrusts, forcing you to muffle your hiccups with the plush surface underneath you as he bruises your cervix. the feel and god— the sound— of his hips smacking agaisnt the plush curve of your ass makes your face heat up until you’re burning from the inside out with embarrassment.
“i’m more of a fuckin’ man than he’ll ever be,” you hear him grit out through his teeth, as if he’s trying to prove it to himself rather than you, “isn’t that right, baby?”
you babble out in agreement, nodding the best you can despite feeling utterly fucked out already as he leans over you, caging you in with his bigger form and strong arms.
rafe’s the man of the house in your world, and that’s all that matters to either of you.
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genderqueerdykes · 1 day ago
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Hello, my niece made this account for me and said I should submit my question to your blog. I’m terribly sorry if this doesn’t belong here. I turned 65 this year and have recently come to accept that I am gay. I have never been on a date with anyone in my life and have never had a social circle. I was only ever close to my brother and sister-in-law and their kids. I only came out to my niece because she’s 30 and bisexual and has been a safe person to talk to, but she has been trying to encourage me to go to a group that she has gone to before. It’s a group that meets at a coffee shop in our city and is for the local lgbtq community. Allies can attend so I don’t have to come out, but I’m scared I will want to. I feel too far past my time to join the community or have a “first boyfriend.” Am I too old for all of this?
this absolutely belongs here, i'm glad your niece helped you create an account here to get some advice, i'm actually really touched!! this warmed my heart a lot
you are DEFINITELY not too old for this!! no one is ever too old for community! elder queers are some of the most important members of our community- if anything, if you go, younger queer people will be over the moon to see someone your age, still identifying as queer, still living, still wanting to be yourself and to accept who you are. it's nerve wracking at first to think about. i joined my college's pride group when i was around 19 or so, and i was scared to death. i also felt like i didn't belong. i think a lot of queer people go through that, you are not alone! it's unfamiliar to you. you're taking a big step in life, change can be downright frightening even if it's what we want
i have met lots of people your age who did not realize they were gay, lesbian, trans, bi, or any other type of queer until much later in life! i've known trans men who didn't figure themselves out and start T until they were in their 70s! i met a trans woman last night who didn't realize she was trans until she turned 60! i think that coffee shop would be absolutely delighted to have you! you don't have to out yourself at all, but if you find yourself feeling comfortable enough to share, please feel free to. your story deserves to be heard. you deserve to be able to express yourself in a welcoming environment!
i hope you're able to go, i think that sounds like it would be very healing for you! i'm really proud of you for realizing who you are and accepting it, and i'm glad your niece is able to be there for you! i genuinely teared up reading this. you are a blessing on our community, not a burden. you will never be too old to be yourself, and surround yourself with people who get you. take care of yourself, okay? please feel free to stop by at any point! i am so happy for you and would love to hear how things go if you do decide to hang out at that coffee shop!
some wonderful additions:
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cyberrose2001 · 17 hours ago
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Christmas Letter Commission for @cometchasinglove !! Thank you so much for the commission <3
Commissioners message under the cut
"Dear Lord Starscream,
I hope that Cybertron and its people are treating you well. I can’t imagine the stress that comes with ruling a planet where not everyone accepts you. You’re clever, ingenious, and you persevere. Just remember to be kind to your people, yeah? Many want a world free of war and filled with change and prosperity, and I know that you do, too.
Me? I’m doing fine and healing well with my family on Earth. They still have lots of questions for me, but I don’t care. They missed me, and I care for them deeply. I enjoy working at a science museum as a guide. The kids who talk to me want to know more about outer space, and I’m happy to share unknown facts with them without releasing Cybertron’s identity. As a techno-organic, I want to be proud of my second home.
Anyways, I can’t let this letter drag on forever. I just want to let you know that I never stop thinking about you. I love you. I miss you. And I hope that you don’t forget about me, my precious Dove.
Sincerely, your Little Mouse,
Juniper Redthorne"
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peachhcs · 2 days ago
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i feel like she’s got to realize at the end of the day she got two national titles with the school and three great seasons that’s so much she got there that she should take the offer because it’s her future and if she turns it down she may never get another offer
the side plot has begun 🤗 and my cliff hangers have returned
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“wow..this is amazing, sweetie. we’re so proud of you,” ellen rushed out after reading the lengthy letter from the head coach. jim reread it more closely after looking at it from over his wife’s shoulder. samy embraced her mom, the excitement not as prominent on her features.
“this is so big for you. wow, i have no words,” the older woman laughed as she looked at the letter again, but she finally caught her daughter’s somewhat solemn expression.
“you don’t seem as excited?” ellen pointed out.
“no, no, i am. i am. i just..i guess i’m still processing it all. they’ve been looking at me since my freshmen year and they want me right away..” the girl trailed off a bit. she couldn’t believe a program like theirs had eyes on her since she was 18 and now they wanted her. of all people they wanted her on their team right away.
but at what cost? if samy signed on, she’d lose her last year at mich. what about all the friends she’s made? hannah? the two had plans for a house already next year. her teammates? she couldn’t just abandon those girls she’s spent so much time with? they needed her for her last year.
“are you thinking about not taking the offer?” jim approached the subject and samy flushed, burying her face into her hands.
“i don’t know. my mind’s been all over the place,” the younger girl admitted. she thought driving home to talk to her parents would help lead her in the right direction, but samy still felt incredibly lost.
“what would make you not wanna take it?” ellen wondered, her hand rubbing her daughter’s shoulder.
“everything i’ve built at mich. my senior year of college? hannah? the team? my last collegiate season with the program i basically helped build? there’s a lot,” samy rambled off and her parents exchanged a glance.
“and what would you lose if you didn’t take this offer?”
“maybe my only chance to go pro at a sport i love and have devoted my life to since i was like 12,” the brunette laughed a bit sadly.
“honey, we want you to make the best choice for yourself. this is such an amazing accomplishment right here. there’s people who see your talent and the skill you possess. remember when we were having a similar conversation about if you wanted to stick to hockey or take on soccer full time? back then, there wasn’t a pro league for women’s hockey yet and you knew soccer would bring you a lot more opportunity in the future. this is one of those moments, babe. a full offer right in front of you,” ellen said gently and samy sighed. she eyed the invitation again and everything in her mind was pulling her in two different directions.
“have you told your brothers yet? will?” jim asked and the girl shook her head.
“i haven’t told anyone except you guys.”
“maybe you should call them. they might have some insightful advice or a different perspective we aren’t saying,” her dad offered and samy knew he had a point.
her brothers always had something good to say, but she also knew they would tell her to take the opportunity. she knew will would tell her to because then they’d be closer if she moved out to california.
“yeah, i probably should,” samy nodded and her parents squeezed her shoulders.
“we’re gonna be proud of you no matter what you decide, okay? don’t think you’ll disappoint us if you decide to stay or go,” ellen whispered before sending her upstairs to have some space.
the brunette wandered back into her room, collapsing on her bed to just breathe for a second. she found her phone and trailed to the sibling group chat—a wash of deja vu hitting her back when she was calling her brothers to help her decide what college to go to. it was all so familiar being home in her childhood bedroom with no one but her parents downstairs.
luke joined the call first and then jack’s face appeared a second later in the same frame, “what’s up pop?” jack grinned.
“hi moose, hi rowdy,” samy smiled seeing them. luke readjusted his phone so she could see both of them on the couch together.
quinn connected a second later in his own apartment. he waved, “what’s up crew?”
“hey q-tip,” jack snickered at the nickname making quinn roll his eyes.
“i thought we talked about not calling me that,” the older boy said.
“we did, but i’m still calling you it,” the middle hughes snickered.
“i miss you guys. i wish you were here,” samy smiled sadly.
“uh oh, whenever baby hughes gets sappy, it means something’s wrong. what’s wrong?” jack immediately said and the girl flushed at how well he knew her.
“nothing bad..i just..” she trailed off and eyed the letter now on her desk, “i got an offer to play pro out in california,” she finally got out.
the three boys’ eyes widened in disbelief.
“no fucking way. holy shit, samy! that’s awesome!” luke quickly exclaimed.
“what team?” quinn asked.
“bay fc. apparently head coach montoya has been watching me since my freshman year and he wants me on,” the girl explained briefly which only heightened her brother’s excitement.
“holy shit, pop. that’s amazing. i always knew you had it in you,” jack grinned.
“but he wants me on right away which means i forfeit my last year at mich to move out to san francisco,” samy explained the downside.
“ah, the catch. there’s always a catch,” luke tsked.
“i mean that’s basically what moose and i did. we played at mich for two years before going pro. it sucks it has to be your last year but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity,” quinn rambled a bit and the girl nodded. she bit at her lip and luke quickly caught onto her expression.
“are you considering not taking it?” he voiced his thought out loud.
“you have to, sam. bay fc is a wicked good team. they’re like top eight right now. if the head coach has been watching you since freshmen year that has to mean something,” jack quickly cut in.
“i know, i know, i guess it’s just a lot to process right now. i mean how do i leave a program i helped build and bring two national titles home to? hannah? my teammates? my last year at mich in general. that’s not something i can just easily walk away from. it may be easy for you to say, jack because you never went to college,” the last part was a harsh dig and samy knew that.
“okay, okay, you’re right, pop. walking away from a team like that isn’t easy,” quinn stepped in before an argument escalated.
“sorry, i didn’t mean it like that,” she quickly backtracked. her emotions were definitely getting the better of her right now.
“i get it, it’s not easy. you know everyone would want you to take it though, right? that team, your coach, hannah, they’d all want you to take that in a heartbeat after everything you’ve done for the school and the program,” jack came a little softer.
“does will know?” quinn wondered and the brunette shook her head.
“i haven’t mentioned anything. i drove home after getting the letter to tell mom and dad. you guys are the only people besides them who know right now.”
“well, he’s gonna be ecstatic that you’ll be so close by,” luke grinned and the girl flushed.
“but don’t make a decision just because you’ll be close to your boyfriend,” quinn said and the girl rolled her eyes a bit.
“and when have i ever done that?” she said, but the older boy shrugged.
“just reminding you.”
“what do you think i should do?” samy asked her brothers honestly.
“you know we can’t answer that for you, pop. it’s your choice. your life. your dream,” jack said and the girl nodded.
“but if you were me, what would you do?”
“i’d remember the really great three years i’ve had with my teammates and friends and let that carry me into the next chapter in my life. the legacy you’ve left there isn’t gonna be one anyone forgets, samy,” luke hummed.
the younger girl sighed knowing she had a lot to think about in the next three weeks. it should’ve been such an easy decision for her, but the idea of leaving behind everything she’s ever known in a place that’s built her family wasn’t as easy thinking about.
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thaltro · 3 days ago
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Hey there, I saw your recent post and just have to say that once upon a time when I was bored I decided to check out the tumblr tag for ut au's even though I'm not as interested in it anymore as I was before just to see what's been happening in the fandom then found out about your account and fell in love with your art!
I haven't been into UT AU's in a while but I still stalk your account just because I love love love your character designs and the concept of nightwatch (I'm checking your profile every now and then just to check if there's any announcements on it like a madman) and the way you draw and color. If it wasn't for the fact that I need to be stingy with my money these days I'd genuinely commission you 😭‼️
Idk how I'm supposed to end this note but I just rly wanted to show the appreciation I have for ur art you genuinely inspire me to create <33
(PS Atrophy's design is so cool where'd you get the inspo for it I have to know)
This is genuinely really sweet
I’ve been working on commissions, just checked my inbox and I have a lot of sweet messages like this one- I’ll answer as many as I can soon it is 2- almost 3 am (time zone reveal) so I’ll sleep soon.
I’m really surprised people genuinely like my au, even though I’m not getting as many interactions (for some reason TikTok is pretty consistent- just not here?) I’m most confused at people actually caring 😭
Besides my beta readers and the few people I’ve spilled all my nightwatch lore too for no good reason, there’s a good handful of sweet people who like my posts without even knowing the full story. That means alot to me, like alot alot.
It’s nice hearing from people who used to be in the fandom and somehow came across my stuff. I kinda want to attract that crowd, I really don’t understand the newer fandom as i was introduced to the utmv when I was like 11 and the old fandom holds a special place in my heart.
Oh and to answer your question- Atrophy’s design is based off of men’s clothing from the 40-80s, his main outfit is 70s talk show hosty but he has a lot of different outfits. I’m a history nerd so I just go through old fashion books haha. His design is supposed to embody wealth and “manliness”. His tie is supposed to be an arrow which is a reference to his past, his red gloves are worn because he’s proud of being “red handed” and isn’t ashamed of the blood he’s spilt. He wears a moon mask that covers up any of his expressive facial features because he thinks it’s funny when his victims can’t read his expression. Atrophy purposely dresses like a villain, that’s what he sees his role as after all- might as well have a good costume.
Thank you for the ask, it cheered me up
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girl4music · 6 hours ago
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Those last 2 episodes. Appropriately titled ‘Heart Part 1’ and ‘Heart Part 2’ because my heart is so full. I have so much to say and have no idea where to start with it.
So much happened. Every lead character’s individual arc was thoroughly concluded in a very satisfying way. Even some of the recurring ones got an endgame so there’s a lot to cover in this recap of a fantastic finale and I feel so fulfilled on great storytelling and great representation packed into a neatly tied up ending.
MAJOR SPOILERS: do not read this if you have not seen the finale of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.
I guess I’ll start with Shadow Weaver because she had an endgame that I had predicted. Well, sort of. I said that Shadow Weaver’s arc can only go in 1 of 2 ways. I said it was either personal attainment (villainy) or personal sacrifice (heroism). So I wasn’t surprised when it was the latter. But I wasn’t able to trust in her going that way sincerely until she started attacking that monster, told Catra that she was proud of her, took off her mask and then told them both ‘you’re welcome’. I couldn’t trust that she was sincerely helping them to achieve releasing and channelling the Heart of Etheria’s magic… which by the way, is what almost brought them to the brink of destruction the first time they tried to do it. However, I understood that because She-Ra was the conduit for that, that it could have a different outcome. Still destructive but destructive only to the opposition. I think anyway. I might have to rewatch that part again because I don’t think I fully understood what was going on there. But yes, Shadow Weaver went out in a heroes death rather than was the cause of her own demise out of hunger for power and a desire to attain the magic of the Heart Of Etheria for selfish aim. I was happy with it.
Glimmer and Bow: I decided to talk about these 2 lead characters together since part of their arc involves each other. It was no surprise to me that they would declare their love for each other. I mean Glimmer has always had a crush on Bow and they’ve been the very best of friends since they were children. I wasn’t sure about Bow at first but I knew intense romantic feelings would develop and I’m glad it was Glimmer who said it first. I am a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a kiss on the lips but I think I understand why that was. I’ll get there. Be patient. There’s way too much to talk about first and I really want to save Catradora until the very last section because I’ll have the most to say about them as a lot of their arc informs well… pretty much the whole TV show.
Glimmer individually had more of an arc in the TV show than Bow did so a significant amount of my meta goes to her. It was mainly how she was fairing as Queen but also how useful she could be to the team because of it. Then of course there was Micah. Reuniting with him but having to battle with him because he was an unwilling agent of Horde Prime. I laughed with pure joy when the influence on him ended and he said “Hi, I’m your dad.” I really felt for Glimmer when she was desperately trying to heal him and she said “I won’t lose another parent!” so it was so satisfying for me to realize she healed him and that she poured all the love she could into that heal and when she succeeded, the proud smile that he wore must have made her feel like Queen of the world, never mind just her little town of Brightmoon. She deserves it.
Likewise it was wonderful to see how proud Bow’s dads were of him when he gave the rousing battle speech to the reawakened masses of Etherians, telling them to be their own warriors and fight for their home. It was right that it was Bow to do that rather than Adora or Glimmer because that is what he had trained himself to do from the beginning. He wants to be an archer battling on the side of the greater good and not a historian. So to see his dads holding each other, proudly watching him… it brought a tear to my eye, I have to admit. So beautiful!
Hordak and Entrapta: I had no idea that I would get a closure for Entrapta, let alone Hordak. I did and I’m so happy about it because even though she was only a recurring character, Entrapta buried her way into my science, tech and engineering loving heart (with a spanner and a blowtorch? You will never know 🤣) but I am glad that she got over her obsession enough to focus on what really mattered. Saving her friends.
The fact that what stopped Horde Prime wasn’t Adora or Glimmer or who you would expect, but Hordak and Entrapta? That hit so hard with me. To give THEM the hero moment of defeating the villain. I was like “Oh my god! That’s brilliant!” Because it is. Think about it. Who do you think Horde Prime tortured the most? His Little Brother! I still don’t know if that was literally or not. 🤷‍♀️ Was he actually related or was he just another clone because he did call Catra his “Little Sister” too? That’s still so creepy to me. But yeah, for Hordak to get that moment of retribution was absolutely delicious for me and then for Entrapta to reach him when Horde Prime tried to take over through the Hive Mind? So, so, good! That made total sense and it was brilliantly executed!
Scorpia and Mermista: The only reason to lump these 2 characters together is because they were chipped and controlled the longest that they caused significant damage to Etherians. There’s not really much to say about them other than that they’re going to have huge headaches now that this is all over due to how far gone they were. I mean I’m glad that they were able to save them but I just don’t know what the aftermath will be for them or whether they will be the same ever again.
From the way I watched and interpreted the TV show, I understood that one of the main narrative themes of it was psychological conditioning and I’ve been in awe that this children’s show was brave enough to tell that very dark story,… let alone see it right through until the end because it’s an ambitious, elaborate and difficult narrative undertaking. Especially to do it properly,… which they definitely did. To tell the darkness of… well… basically radicalization and genocide but to do so in such a way that it could teach and motivate kids to develop on their innate judgement and discernment so if - god forbid - they ever end up in that situation, they’ll know exactly what to do about it. With team She-Ra being their idols, they’ll be able to fight conditioning. I can imagine that’s what the creators intended with this and I cannot acknowledge and commend them on it high enough. I think that ND Stevenson and the entire creative team are incredibly courageous and amazing to make this a main thematic narrative all throughout this TV show and handle it with skill and compassion that it does not once come across as too much for PG.
Catradora: (Yes, I’m using the ship name because the way they tie up their individual character storyline arcs seamlessly also ties in with their romantic arc and you do not know how hard it is to find this with WLW ships.)
First off, I want to point out something that may or may not have been pointed out before with Catradora but this is just how it came across to me in the narrative given I interpret psychological conditioning as a main theme within it. To me, a lot of the reason why Catra is the way she is as a villainous character when it comes to receiving love and affection has do with this factor. She’s so closed off and repressed to the point that she cannot even see that she’s corrupting and sabotaging herself. She is a lot like Xena in this way. But a major striking difference for Catra is that she physically loses the one person in the world that stops her from doing this, whereas Xena physically gains that one person. Trust issues, abandonment issues, parental issues all tie in together - but that was all tolerable when Adora was around her. As soon as Adora leaves her behind in the Fright Zone and, furthermore, begins to oppose her as the hero of Etheria, she spirals so hard and so fast that all of those issues - which were always issues caused by the abusive treatment from Lord Hordak and Shadow Weaver - come crashing down one by one on top of her because she no longer has the person who makes those issues just inconveniences for her. Not only that but … it feels like personal betrayal for her that Adora fights her. She genuinely does think that Adora hates her. I mean who wouldn’t if they were in her shoes (paws?) and had the “upbringing” and “nurturing” backstory she’s had? So Catra has this preconceived notion that Adora never cared about her and left her because she thought she was better than her and was chasing after heroic glory and believes that she was too weak to go with her. In a way it’s a personal vendetta out of misunderstandings Catra has against Adora and those feelings are intense not just because the Horde brainwashing is that deep and severe but also because her love is that deep too and she can’t differentiate which feelings are which. So she becomes She-Ra’s mortal enemy because in her mind, She-Ra is what has taken Adora away from her.
But obviously, from Adora’s side, She-Ra was sprung on her, Etheria was sprung on her. In fact her entire world upended once she recognized her life for what it was. A lie. That she was the villain brutalizing innocent people. She couldn’t go back to them even if she had wanted to because everything she had ever knew was fraudulent and she had been coerced and deceived into being a weapon. And what I really like about Adora’s individual arc is that eventually this was revealed to be true on both sides of the war. She was a weapon for evil and for the greater good. But all she wanted - as all heroes do - was just to protect and defend her loved ones. That’s it. Catra could never see it that way though and it makes sense that she couldn’t given her conditioning was even worse as it involved one-on-one attacks from Shadow Weaver as well as whatever the treatment was with the entire group. Catra’s psychological conditioning was much more personal, intimate and isolated so what was ingrained into her had much deeper and stronger layers added on to it. Hers was a solid brick wall built trauma complex. Those are always much harder to recognize and escape from but with the right therapy,… it can be done. Given her issues weren’t so bad when Adora was around her but got much worse when Adora left her… it is clear that Adora represented a sort of therapy for her. Adora helped her keep all the crippling thoughts of self-doubt and self-contempt at bay. But they were on full volume when Adora left and kept attempting to kill her.
Okay, so let’s finally get on to their romantic arc and how the finale not only concluded their individual character representation and development arcs but also ended their ship slow burn. It wasn’t until the fantastic episode of ‘Save The Cat’ did I realize they were going there. See,… to start with, I knew that they were going to become a canon WLW couple at some point otherwise I would have never started watching it. That was the draw for me. That they were both lead characters in a canon WLW ship in a children’s TV show. That floored me. But I was not prepared at all for what I got to see in the finale. It was groundbreaking. It was phenomenal. In fact I’m sure it was life changing for many queer kids to see that kiss happen the way it did. Or… just happen on-screen at all. Look, I am so used to the “implied” and “assumed” and “disguised” when it comes to WLW physical intimacy that I just do not ever expect blatant leaves-absolutely-no-doubt-whatsoever kisses. I certainly don’t expect WLW kisses written and portrayed as “the power of love” kind. It’s extremely rare. To see it in a children’s show nailed me to the floor. But furthermore - added on to that astonishing feat - is that both lead characters overcome all their issues and obstacles through that very act like… a fairytale story. It’s like… when the Princess kisses the Princess, all is well… there’s no stopping either from that point on. It seems corny but it all just depends on how it’s done. But the fact is you don’t see it done between WLW at all. So to see it done WELL alongside seeing it done at all… I mean Indy knew that he had an assignment with this but the phrase “he understood the assignment” doesn’t cover or justify what was accomplished with this and I can’t believe it’s took me this long to see it.
Every TV art/entertainment creator should watch this TV show and regard this finale as the perfect example of what queer representation can and should provide in TV because this was just the epitome of what true love is. But the fact it was between 2 female lead characters.
I can’t even begin to explain how much it meant to me but I will spend the rest of my life trying to express it because this really was a groundbreaking achievement and I will be adding this WLW ship to my very short list of WLW ships that shape and satisfy every piece of me.
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I have had the best fucking time watching this TV show and I will be doing reruns of it for god knows how long because I am sure there is so much more there for me just like there is with Xena, Buffy, Charmed, Dragon Ball Z, Wynonna Earp and Arcane. All these beloved shows are timeless to me for a reason and She-Ra is the same.
I hope you all enjoyed reading my recaps of my very first watch of ‘She-Ra and the Princesses of Power’.
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all. 🎄
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tomcat-tapes · 2 months ago
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Middle earth ponies; fellowship is magic
More doodles below💚
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(The earth ponies are Thorin and Bilbo adjacent)
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muttsandmustelidae · 6 months ago
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i regret to inform all of my fellow socially awkward kings that Practicing Talking Good actually helps. u have to make small talk at the grocery store sometimes to get better at speaking to people u don’t know very well. it sucks but if u keep trying it will eventually NOT suck and will in fact be fun and nice
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mycological-mariner · 7 months ago
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I really should go back to the short story about the fishwives and bal maidens tbh
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shannaniganss · 5 months ago
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When my sister told me she was going to be in a NYT article I didn’t think it would impact me on tumblr and now I keep seeing critiques of it and I have to grit my teeth and remind myself that they are not coming after my sister but the way the article was written but at the same time!! You better believe that if they didn’t reach out to our parents and allow them to speak on the matter, my mother would have rained hellfire upon that article. And upon me as well for not telling her it was going to happen. I had mental breakdowns leading up to the publication and then I saw the publication and was like. Oh. Yeah. She just lies. And yeah that sucks and is fucking with me right now. But like. I still understand why they asked her for comment. And yeah I would have wanted the article written differently but like. Idk it makes me upset that people seem more upset than I am and my family is actually in the article. And maybe that’s because I feel stuck and I wish I could be like my sister and escape but I am still enmeshed in my parents life bc I am less than an hour away and they still financially help me and it’s like. Am I an ungrateful bitch? Or am I a traitor to my sister? And now every time I see the article on my dash I get dealt psychic damage and have the urge to defend my sister even though no one is attacking her. And so I’m a tangled knot of emotions, emotions I was taught to suppress and bury, and yeah. Idk. I felt the urge to vent.
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dancing-with-stars · 10 months ago
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guys. guys !!!!
#vanu is rambling#ok idk this is gonna b a happy post but i think there are lots of people who love me in this world. or at least enjoy my presence.#like i always always always ALWAYS doubt if my friends or family like me and in my head they all secretly hate me#but like for these past couple months things have been different.#i don’t feel so left out (like i usually do in groups) or alone.#like my friends genuinely want me there like they always ask me to go places with them. and i almost always say no because im so busy or#i just cant but they still ask me everytime. yesterday the whole group was calling and playing a game and i got a bunch of texts like hey#where are you u shud join the call it’s rly fun ! but i just couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone at that moment.#today they were rly happy when i joined the call and idk it made me feel like. oh. maybe my friends do like me#and also i have two moods: i’m either super talkative or i go into my little shell and don’t say anything/add to a convo. and like during#those moments they’ll be like hey u ok? or they’ll just listen to me talk about ceramics and how fun it is or how much i hate eating pears#and like. we laugh so much together. like i have so much fun with all of them i love every single one of them omg#and scary thing is we might not even be friends after we start college. but yk what? that’s okay i don’t wanna think about that.#because like who cares? i’m not gonna let my fears ab the future ruin my friendships. i’ll always love them anyways. and we’ll always call.#i’m glad i met them. they’re all such beautiful and funny and amazing strong willed-people. they are my friends.#it’s just so crazy to me that they willingly want to spend time w me and are sad when i can’t. and they’re so understanding at the same time#they don’t get mad about it. and like they have mad eng last year in high school so much more enjoyable.#someone told me that this is ur last year do things so when you look back you don’t regret anything- so you can be proud of what you did#and my friends helped me with that. and like i still feel lonely the majority of the class because despite this there’s like a permanent#stain of sadness right there at the bottom of my heart. but they make the hard days more manageable.#like i’ve been on call with these people until ungodly hours at night just laughing and i go to sleep feeling a bit lighter.#they introduced me to the tech side of theater which i never thought i’d get into but here i am. they teach me silly facts and words in asl.#they taught me dances- knowing full well i SUCK at it- because we all had fun with it. theyve taught me it’s OKAY to be vulnerable in#friendships and that sometimes being open/yourself is quite literally the best thing you can do for your own soul and others. they’re cool#people really. really cool people
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curiosity-killed · 1 year ago
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This is the last grumbling I’m going to do about my birthday I swear BUT I’m still just mildly flummoxed by my call with my parents last night where like. It’s my birthday. And I have COVID. And they insist on FaceTiming and then just….vent about our extended family and how hard their life is, never once asking a question about *my* life to the point that I finally gave up and while my mom was doing her “and well now what other family news is there…” hmming and hawing, interrupted her to be like “I got offered a trainee position with this dance company” and then they just were like “😶😐 oh. Well. Are you going to take it? You do work full time too and need to have balance in your life…” instead of saying a single positive thing
#after that they did finally ask a LITTLE about my life but like#basically just if I’d been drawing recently 💀#I just would love one (1) person in my family to a) be at all interested in MY life instead of just talking at me all the time#and b) to be like. dude congrats. I know that’s not what you wanted/were hoping for#but it’s still a big achievement and we’re proud of/happy for you#I do not understand why it’s so hard for my family to just like. be normal fucking humans#when someone tells you they were offered a position in a dance company you say congrats 😭😭😭 Jesus Christ#also like I do a lot of shit!! I have so many passions that would be very easy to ask about#even in a super cursory way#like shit dude ask how writings going instead of what weather I’m having#it’s always a safe question#and like then my mom was saying how she felt bad that I had just#ordered delivery cheesecake#because she’d thought about seeing if that was an option#and I was like ??? literally idgaf. when was the last time I actually expected someone else to do something for me for my birthday#or even like#take care of me?#I don’t get sick often but there have been a lot of times where I really could’ve used some fucking help#and just#had to handle it#I have been handling it since I was 12 yr old at most#personal#anyway it was a fine call just like#exacerbated existing frustrations#and I am a little prickly rn about friends and family being. not great.#I don’t need flattery and shit#but I could use like. one person in my corner#that’s not fair I do have a friend who consistently cares about my shit and everything#I just also wish my family ever did that
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hey-op-just-kill-me · 2 years ago
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#hi I’m going to complain for a quick second#so my parents have not contributed a fucking cent to my higher edumacation besides maybe three train tickets#I have paid two semesters so far by my self and with my grandmother giving me some money to help for transportation but that’s legit it#like my parents haven’t financially helped me at all okay#so my dad was going to do taxes today and he told me to print out the college tax thing and I got angry at him#because fuck you use me as a discount when you start to actually help me out at all#so we’re yelling at each other and he’s like oh isn’t there a parent account I can log into and I explain that no it’s fucking college#you do not have a day at all#he does not like this because he really likes being in control of shit#but it’s funny because for the first 16 years of my life he couldn’t give a shit less about my education last two years of HS he tries#to give unhelpful advice that just led to more stress (as in I got a 90 on a test and he’d ask why it wasn’t 100)#so we’re yelling at each other and my sister says to just ignore it because someone might aswell clame it for taxes instead of the state#and yeah sure fine but at least provide some support for me. or fucking tell me you’re proud of me that’s it that’s all I want#the only thing he has given me for school was a fucking BC tee shirt off of Amazon… that’s it#so now we are just fucking avoiding each other and it’s fucking awkward but my mom is treating it like I’m the bad guy here because#I’m angry they told me I had to go to college and now they won’t help me#like I understand that a lot of people don’t have their parents support to pay for college and they do drive me to the train station but#it’s just rude. and I can’t even talk to him about it because oh no big man feelings get hurt when $ is a topic but like grow the fuck up
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mostly-imagines · 9 months ago
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Banished
jason todd x fem!reader
aka jason misses his girlfriend
warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)
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Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.
Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes while Tim has sat atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.
Damian trudges into the room, past them and onto the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.
He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”
Jason just grunts.
He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.
But it’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He secretly wouldn’t really mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stayed behind. A lose-lose for Jason.
“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.
Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”
Jason keeps his head down as he blindly reaches for the spoon in his cereal and chucks it at Tim’s head.
Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”
“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.
Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”
“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.
Damian pauses.
“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.
“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.
“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.
Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”
It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.
Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.
He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.
Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.
He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.
And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.
And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.
Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.
But you could.
Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.
He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.
He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.
And he watches Jason.
As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.
He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.
He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.
The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.
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✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨
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flowersforbucky · 18 days ago
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for always and ever is always for you
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old man!logan x healer!reader
word count: 15.2k
summary: logan is getting sicker by the day, and charles' seizures are occurring more and more frequently. logan didn't think he'd ever see you again - but desperate times call for desperate measures.
warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, descriptions of blood and illness, angst, logan's pov, reader is afab, language, slow burn as far as one-shots go, no use of y/n, caliban being sassy, mutual pining, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), face sitting, cream pie, some dirty talk and pet names
author's note: thank you @embbarnes for reading this and letting me rant about it and assuring me that it's worth posting 🫶🏻 this took me an embarrassing amount of time and i have to say i am pretty proud of it. flashbacks are in italics
divider by @saradika-graphics!
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“This is the third time in the last week, you know.”
Logan stares down at the deep red splatters of blood that creep towards the drain. The skin of his knuckles begin to turn white from how harshly he grips the edges of the sink – he’s surprised the ceramic doesn’t shatter. He turns the faucet on, lowering his lips to the weak stream to collect enough water to rinse the taste of iron from his mouth.
“I know that,” Logan spits the now pink tinged water into the bowl and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You don’t think I fuckin’ know that? I’m the one hacking my lungs up here.” He shoves past Caliban, exiting the small bathroom.
Logan doesn’t want to snap at him – hates that it happens as often as it does. But right now he’s late for work and the last thing he needs is to hear Caliban harping on about this again while he scrambles to find his car keys.
“You know I hate to keep bringing this up,” Caliban continues as he follows Logan into the makeshift kitchen of the abandoned smelting plant.
“I find that hard to believe,” Logan mumbles under his breath. He finds his keys hidden under some junk mail and shoves them in his coat pocket before pouring himself some coffee to take with him to work. It’s day old and not as strong as he’d like for it to be, but he’ll be glad that he has it when midnight rolls around.
“Charles,” Caliban continues. “The medications are doing very little to help him anymore. We’re having to give him twice as much as we were a month ago, which means we are running out twice as fast. He’s getting worse. You both are. We need to find a… specialist that can help with both of our problems.”
Logan snorts in response, practically able to feel Caliban’s eyes burning holes in the back of his head.
“There ain’t a thing that any doctor can do for me and you know it.”
Maybe Logan hasn’t had the flu, or strep throat, or even the common cold in two hundred odd years, but he knows there’s no prescription that any physician can write that would stop his very bones from poisoning him.
“Let me rephrase that, then. Not a doctor. You need to see a healer.”
Logan freezes, his posture going rigid.
“If you’re about to say what I think you’re going to say, I suggest shutting the fuck up.”
“He’s had a record number of seizures so far this week,” Caliban implores. “You’re barely standing upright. There’s a chance that she could help you both.”
“She’s out of the question,” Logan spits before storming past him. He yanks the door open and slams it closed behind him as he steps into the late evening Mexico sun.
How does Caliban even know about you? Some of Charles’ rambling in his rare moments of lucidity, no doubt.
It doesn’t matter if you can help or not.
For a lot of reasons, it doesn’t matter.
The most obvious one being he hasn’t talked to you in over a year and doesn’t know where the fuck you’re at.
••••••
“You don’t have to stay back there, you know. You can come closer. You’re not in my way.”
There’s no hint of condescension in your voice. Only patience, and reassurance. Still, Logan doesn’t budge from his position in the corner of the mansion’s infirmary.
You don’t press him any further.
He had lost track of how long he’d been standing here, just watching in complete silence as you tend to the young mutant’s injuries.
Logan doesn’t even know the kid’s name. He doesn’t know any of their names. But he’d been the one to find all five of them in a locked cell on today’s mission, and he isn’t going to leave this room until he knows that they are all okay.
You’d already taken care of four out of the five. They now rest peacefully in individual beds, no doubt the warmest and safest they’ve been in God knows how long.
Your hands hover a few inches above a young boy’s chest, emitting a pale purple glow as you wave them over his torso, letting your powers radiate from your palms into his body.
Logan notices the color of your power isn’t as vibrant as it was when you’d healed the first child’s injuries, or the second, or third. Originally a bright violet, it’s now a lackluster lavender.
He also doesn't miss the way that you suddenly close your eyes with furrowed brows, but he remains in the corner, watching you carefully. You dig your teeth into the flesh of your bottom lip in concentration, causing Logan to take an involuntary step forward at the pained expression on your face.
Your hands drop down to the railing of the bed that the boy lays in, clutching the bars to keep you from falling over as the energy you’d been emitting fades away.
“Shit,” you huff, out of breath. A thin layer of perspiration glistens on your forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Logan asks as he moves closer to you. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding as you look up at him. You give him a forced smile that does very little to reassure him. “I’m fine. It’s just been a while since I’ve had to use so much of my powers in such a short amount of time.”
“Maybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?” Logan looks around the infirmary, walking a few feet away to grab a chair for you. He places it next to the bed that you’re still using for support.
“I’ll be as good as new soon,” you assure him as you take a seat. “This happens occasionally.”
Logan stands beside you, awkwardly leaning against the edge of an empty bed next to the boy’s. He watches as you lean forward, taking the kid’s small hand in your own. There’s no resurgence of purple – you’re simply holding it. The boy is sound asleep, so the act makes Logan wonder if it’s for his comfort or your own.
“If I exert too much energy at once, I feel the effects of it. Not enough to really hurt me, just.. leave me feeling like I need to sleep for a week,” you explain with a weak chuckle. Logan’s eyes are fixated on the way that your thumb soothes over the skin of the boy’s hand.
“A gift that comes with a price,” Logan murmurs. “I know how that feels. Though it sometimes feels more like a curse in my case.” He instinctively glances down at his knuckles, his claws sheathed away.
“I can see how it would feel that way,” you agree, glancing up at him with a soft expression. “But it’s not what your power is that determines whether it’s a curse or a gift. It’s what you do with it. And these kids are alive because of you. A lot of people are, because you choose to use it for good. I’d say that makes it a gift.”
“I guess I should try to look at it that way more often,” he hums.
“Plus, having the ability to heal yourself has gotta be pretty neat. I think you’re the only person here who would never have to ask me for my help.” You glance back up at him, a hint of a smirk ghosting your lips.
They’re pretty, he thinks – your lips. He mentally scolds himself, knowing now isn’t the time or place to be thinking about your lips.
“You can count on that, bub.”
When Logan wakes, he doesn’t have the chance to mourn the memory he’d found himself reliving in his sleep.
He does find himself on the floor by his bed with the breath knocked from his lungs. His hands come to shield his ears, attempting to block out the high-pitched shrieking that makes his ear canals feel as if they are filling with blood.
Judging by the sunlight streaming into his room through the thin, tattered curtains covering his windows, he guesses that it’s mid-afternoon. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours – meaning it also couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he had given Charles his most recent dose of medicine.
With the world shaking around him, a half empty bottle of liquor and an old coffee mug both shatter as they fall off of his bedside table and hit the ground.
Logan and Caliban had recently cleared off all shelves in the smelting plant, moving anything that could potentially fall and break during one of Charles’ episodes closer to the ground, but after a long night of driving around drunk assholes, it’s easy to forget that even a ceramic cup on a small table is a hazard.
He can tell by the way that the air around him feels as if it weighs ten tons that Charles has to be close by. He musters all of his strength to force himself to his feet. Each movement feels as if he’s in slow motion as he fights against the psionic energy that works to keep him frozen in place.
As slow as if he has hundred pound weights attached to each of his feet, he makes his way from his bedroom and to the common area. When he turns the corner, he first sees Caliban, still as a statue with his facial features contorted in agony and his typically alabaster skin turning redder by the second from the pain. He’s less than a foot away from where Charles sits in his wheelchair, where he appears to have been watching a movie.
Logan frantically looks around the room, searching for where he had placed the bag of injections and pills when he’d forced Charles into swallowing his last dose just a few hours ago.
He finds it on what is used as a dining room table. It’s sheer good luck that Logan had thought to prepare an emergency dose of the injection earlier that day, most likely thanks to Caliban’s lecture from yesterday evening still looming in the back of his mind.
After what feels like hours, Logan finally reaches Charles with the injection and plunges the needle into his chest. The second that the medication enters his system, the seizure ceases.
Caliban and Logan both collapse to the ground in relief. Logan clutches his chest, trying to steady his heartbeat and regulate his breathing.
“You dream of her just as she dreams of you,” Charles whimpers through labored breaths.
“What?” Logan snaps, glaring at Charles from his position on the dirty floor. His ears must still be ringing from the effects of the seizure, because he can’t have heard him right. “Quit reading my mind.”
“Your thoughts are always loud when you think of her,” Charles murmurs, turning his attention back to the movie on the screen in front of him as if nothing had happened.
It's the first time, Logan realizes, that Charles has mentioned you since the day of his first seizure. Even without specifically saying your name, Logan knows exactly who he’s referring to.
“Make that four incidents this week,” Caliban grumbles as he jerks the plastic bag filled with medication out of Logan’s hand. He digs through it, pulling out a pill bottle and dumping two into his palm. “He’s averaging an episode per day, and each one feels stronger than the last. It’s only a matter of time before he kills–”
“Do you know where she’s at? Can you track her?” Logan interrupts him. Caliban pauses to look at him, visibly annoyed.
“Oh, so it’s a good idea now that he–” he jabs a finger in Charles’ direction, “mentions her once, is it?” He stomps over to where Charles watches the television, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening right beside him.
“Take these. Both of them.” He shoves them into Charles’ palm and then storms past Logan.
“Didn’t say anything about it being a good idea,” Logan grunts, following him into the kitchen. “But you seem to think it is and I don’t know what else to do. So can you find her or not?”
“Of course I can,” Caliban retorts defensively. “As long as you have something with her scent on it.”
Logan throws his hands up in frustration, and then rakes one hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“I haven’t seen her in over a year. Why would I have anything that smells like her?”
“It doesn’t have to be dosed in her favorite perfume,” Caliban huffs. “But I can’t track anyone without some amount of their scent to go off of.”
“Goddammit,” Logan groans between gritted teeth. He turns in the opposite direction, heading back to his bedroom.
He thinks back to the last time that he saw you – the last time that his life had any sense of normalcy. The day of Charles’ first seizure, the day that he saw seven of his friends die, you weren’t there. By some miracle, you had been out of town.
But a few days before that – it had been snowing. It was the first snow of winter and you had taken a group of younger students to play outside in the middle of class.
Logan was called over by a few of the kids who begged him to help make a snowman. You kept to the sidelines, watching him with the students, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself to keep your cardigan pulled securely around your chest.
He remembers pausing what he was doing to run over to you and insist that you take his jacket until you were all back inside. He remembers how much he liked seeing you wear it, and how silly he felt when he didn’t like that you remembered to give it back.
He remembers being enveloped in the smell of honey and cream when he shrugged the jacket back onto his own shoulders. Less than a week later, he found himself in Mexico with no need to wear such a heavy leather jacket.
It's now been over a year since he’s so much as touched it.
Logan begins rifling through the drawers of the dresser that looks to be as old as he is, containing all of the clothing that he owns. It doesn’t take but a few seconds until he recognizes the feeling of the worn leather against his fingertips.
He brings the jacket up to his nose, inhaling where your skin and hair had rest against the collar. He breathes in deep, concentrating on the scent that transports him back to before his life was completely uprooted and turned upside down. With his eyes closed, it’s easy for him to let himself believe he’s standing in the kitchen of the mansion with your arms around his neck.
It's faint. If he didn’t have enhanced senses, he may not have been able to detect it at all. But it’s there – familiar and nostalgic and unmistakably you.
••••••
It takes Caliban all of sixty seconds to pinpoint your location.
Logan doesn’t quite know how to feel about learning that there’s only one state in-between the two of you. He wasn’t sure where he expected you to be, really – it doesn’t surprise him that you didn’t stay in the state of New York, and he didn’t think you would return to your hometown, but knowing that you’ve possibly been just a half day’s drive away from him this entire time makes a lot of emotions surface that he’s been trying to push down for the last year.
He begins the drive just after six in the morning. By the time the sun starts to set that evening, he enters the city limits of Silverton, Colorado.
Nestled in the snow-capped Rockies, the small town couldn’t be more polar opposite of where he has resided for the last thirteen months. The stark differences nearly cause him to turn his limousine around and head back to the smelting plant without even bothering you – if you’d chosen somewhere like this to live, there’s no way you’d be content with the brutal, dry heat of northern Mexico.
But this is the closest he’s been to you in nearly four hundred days, and despite the fact that he’s spent the last ten hours of this car ride thinking about what he’s going to say to you and still doesn’t fucking know, he can’t bring himself to go back to Mexico without trying.
Without at least seeing your face. Without at least seeing for himself that you’re doing okay.
He knows it’s selfish. He knows he made his choice when he took Charles to Mexico without even letting you know that they were alive. It doesn’t matter that he had his reasons for doing so, it doesn’t matter how much it killed him inside – he made his choice and he should have to live with it, without disturbing your peace and asking any of this of you.
He justifies it by telling himself that it’s for Charles, and Caliban. Maybe it’s his pride, but he refuses to make his ailing health your responsibility. Asking you to help with Charles is already asking too much.
He turns down a dirt road, following the approximate – not exact – instructions that Caliban had provided. Thankfully, it’s a small town in both size and population, so it doesn’t take him too long to find the neighborhood that Caliban had described.
He knows he has found the right house when he sees your car. He recognizes it instantly due to the cracked rear bumper that you still have yet to have replaced and its unique sage green color that peaks through the light dusting of snow.
He pulls into your driveway, parking his limousine next to your vehicle and turns off the engine. He takes in the appearance of your home – a small, cozy cabin with smoke erupting from the chimney. All of your curtains are pulled closed but there’s enough light peaking through them for him to know that you’re inside.
The thought occurs to him that he might not find you alone. It’s been over a year – you could have found someone to build a life with. They could pull into this very driveway at any moment. Hell, you could have a baby for all he knows. He might be seconds away from learning that you have a whole family of your own–
His thoughts only stop spiraling when he sees your front door swing open, your face peeking around the frame a second later. Confusion is etched across your features as you notice the limousine parked in front of your porch.
You don’t yet know that it’s him due to the limousine’s tinted windows, he realizes.
You exit the house, stepping onto your front porch with your arms crossed over your chest as you wait for the driver of the vehicle to make themselves known.
You haven’t aged a day. Your hair being longer than the last time he saw you is the only physical proof that any time has passed at all.
Logan attempts to clear his face of all of the emotions coursing through him and opens the driver’s side door, stepping out of the vehicle.
Thanks to the adamantium poisoning his body, his eyesight has started to decline over the last few months. But Logan doesn’t need to have his glasses on to know that you look like you’re seeing a ghost.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you in a cautious voice. He stays planted where he’s at, waiting for you to respond before coming any closer to the front porch steps.
He swears he watches you go through all five stages of grief in under a minute. Confusion fades to shock, shock turns to denial, and denial morphs into anger before you’re left with a blank expression.
“I know I’ve got a lotta explaining to do,” Logan starts. “If you’ll let me, I’ll answer every question you have. I’m just asking you to hear me out.”
It takes every ounce of self-restraint that he possesses to not walk up the steps of your porch and wrap you in his arms. He may be standing just a few feet away from you, but it doesn’t feel real. He’s convinced that at any moment, he’ll wake up back in his pathetic excuse of a bedroom in the smelting plant.
You take a few small, tentative steps forward. Your eyes never leave his, an unreadable expression on your face. Logan can’t tell if you’re trying to decide if he’s real, if you’re about to jump into his arms, or if you’re about to yell at him to get the fuck out of here.
You come to a stop on the bottom porch step.
“What’s the deal with the limousine?” You nod towards the vehicle behind him.
“I’m uh – I’m a limousine driver,” he answers lamely.
“A limousine driver,” you repeat with raised brows, though it doesn’t sound like a question. “You know, there have been a lot of nights that I’ve laid awake wondering where you’re at and what you’re doing. Of all the possibilities, I never considered limo driver.”
Logan opens his mouth to respond, but quickly shuts it again when you turn on your heel, walking back up the steps and to the front door. You pause before you cross the entryway, looking back at him over your shoulder.
“Take your shoes off at the door. Don’t be tracking snow into my house.”
Logan watches you retreat into the house, his body frozen in place. As far as initial reactions go, he supposes that could have been significantly worse – but he knows he isn’t out of the woods yet.
He follows you inside, kicking his boots off at the door and closing it behind him.
The inside of your house is warm, thanks to the gentle fire going in the fireplace in your den. It’s cozy – you’ve decorated for the approaching holidays. Garland and twinkling lights adorn your mantle, and in the corner of the living room is an elaborately decorated tree. The whole place smells like a mixture of the candle burning on your coffee table and whatever you have cooking in the kitchen.
It's not just cozy, he thinks. It’s homey. And he’s about to ask you to leave it all for a dirty, grimy, old smelting plant.
He follows you into the small kitchen, where you stir something in a giant pot on your stove.
“Do I even want to know how you found me?”
He can tell that you’re trying to maintain a level tone, but he doesn’t miss the way that your voice shakes and rises an octave on the last word.
He clears his throat, pulling out a chair for himself at your dining room table.
“His name is Caliban. He’s a mutant who can track other mutants. I asked him to find you.”
You hum in response, continuing to tend to the food in the pot with your back turned to him. Logan knows that telling you he asked Caliban to track you down is just the tip of the iceberg here, but he doesn’t want to throw too much at you at once. So he watches as you grab a variety of seasonings from the cabinet above you, and lets you take your time with questioning him further.
“And why did you ask him to find me?”
“For Charles,” Logan answers. “I didn’t want to disturb you after all this time. I know you’re probably angry and you have every right to be but.. his seizures. They’re getting worse. The medications that I give him aren’t helping like they used to.”
You cover the pot with a lid, and turn the dial on the stove down to low before turning to face him. You lean up against the counter, your arms once again crossed over your chest – a telltale sign that you’re on edge, Logan remembers well.
“You mean the seizures that killed a bunch of our friends and have caused the United States government to classify his brain as a weapon of mass destruction?”
Logan gives you a curt nod. “Yeah. Those seizures. We’ve been living in an abandoned smelting plant just south of the border in Mexico. He mostly stays inside an old water tower. The metal it's made from helps keep the seizures contained to the immediate area around us, but.. they’re getting stronger. Happening more frequently.”
You chew on your lower lip, a passive expression on your face as you take in Logan’s words. You don’t meet his gaze, your stare fixated on something on the other side of the room.
“And what about you?”
“What about me?” Logan counters.
You turn away from him again, reaching into a cabinet to grab two bowls. Logan watches as you ladle some kind of soup or stew into the bowls and pull two spoons from a drawer.
You place one bowl in front of him, and the other at a chair across from him before retrieving a bottle of dark colored wine and two glasses.
“It’s only been a year since I last saw you but you look about ten years older,” you finally answer as you uncork the bottle and fill the two glasses. You push one across the small table. “Sorry. I haven’t had much of a reason to keep any whiskey on hand.”
Logan’s not surprised by the observation – you’re not wrong. He knows the adamantium poisoning his body has taken a toll on his physical appearance. His hair and beard have started to gray, his skin appears more leathered, his under eyes more crinkled.
After barely aging a day in decades, the difference between a year ago and today must look drastic to you.
But that isn’t why he’s here. He can handle some aches and pains, some coughing fits, and all of the other ailments that come with typical aging. He can hide it all from you – he won’t make that your burden to bear in addition to asking you to help with Charles.
“Yeah, well,” Logan starts, staring down at the stew in front of him to avoid your gaze. “That’s what working night shifts and taking care of a ninety-seven year old disabled psychic with Alzheimer’s induced mega seizures does to a person.”
“No one asked you to do that, Logan. I would have helped you if you had given me the chance. I would have followed you any–”
“I know,” Logan cuts you off. “I know you would have. But I had just watched almost everyone that I love die. I couldn’t risk it, letting you get hurt too. Staying away from you for the last year, it’s.. it’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I did it because I knew it would mean you’re safe.”
You’re silent. Your lips quiver, and Logan loses his appetite at the way your eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears.
“Did you at least think about reaching out?”
If your watery eyes make Logan lose his appetite, the brokenness in your voice makes him feel sick with himself.
“Every single day.”
He doesn’t tell you that you frequent his dreams, or that he thinks of you every time a Pink Floyd song comes on the radio, or that he hears your voice in the back of his mind telling him to drink more water when all he’s had that day is coffee and bourbon.
He wants to. But he doesn’t.
You give a small nod to his answer, but otherwise say nothing. You pick up your spoon and take a small, unenthusiastic bite of the food in front of you. Logan forces his attention to his own stew, not really wanting to eat but knowing that he needs to – he had only stopped for gas and a bathroom break once during the drive here. He hasn’t eaten anything since he choked down a stale granola bar before leaving Mexico early this morning.
The two of you sit in a loaded silence. Despite how heavy it feels, he can’t help but feel more relaxed in your presence than he has in a long, long time.
Your spoon clinks against the empty bowl when you finish eating. Logan looks up to see you gulping down the last of your wine.
You sigh. A long, exaggerated sigh.
“Why couldn’t you have shown up yesterday, before I put up all of my Christmas decorations?”
••••••
Logan thinks that the interior of his limousine will smell like a Christmas tree threw up in it for the next few months.
Not that he’s complaining. The sickeningly sweet scent of balsam is a small price to pay for you agreeing to come to Mexico.
He knows he probably shouldn’t feel as relieved as he does – he doesn’t even know if your powers will be effective in helping with Charles’ seizures.
But he can't lie to himself. The entire time he spent the better part of the night helping you pack your things into totes to load into your car and his limousine, he was on edge – afraid that you'd change your mind at any moment.
Of course he felt relieved when he watched your car pull out of your driveway after typing the smelting plant’s address into your GPS early this morning.
Approximately eleven hours later, he doesn’t think he’s ever been so glad to be in Mexico. The drive to Colorado, packing for hours into the night and then getting a few hours of shut eye on your couch, and then the drive back to the smelting plant has taken a toll on him.
His hips ache from sitting for so long and he’s experiencing what has to be a pinched nerve in his lower back.
That’s a first for him.
When he arrives back home, he’s relieved to find that he got here before you. Maybe he’ll have enough time to take a long, hot shower and let some max strength ibuprofen go into effect before you can notice the way that he hobbles inside.
“Oh, thank God,” Caliban exhales when he sees the door open and Logan limps inside. “You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts. Did you even think to check if I was alive? He could have had a seiz—”
“Sorry,” Logan grunts, walking past him to retrieve the bottle of painkillers from a cupboard in the kitchen. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, trying to get back here as soon as possible and what not.”
He tosses back four pills dry and then turns to face him again. “And I knew you weren’t dead. You blew up my phone enough to assure me of that.”
“Well, a reply or two keeping me updated would have been nice. Tracking you only tells me so much.”
Logan rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have the energy for this right now.
“She’s on her way here now. How’s that for an update?” He pushes past Caliban, just wanting to go stand under a painfully hot stream of water.
“You actually managed to get her to agree to come here?”
“I’m as surprised as you are.” Logan grabs a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen counter and starts walking towards his room. “And get the spare room cleaned up for her.”
••••••
“I know it isn’t much, but I’m gonna get you a better mattress tomorrow.”
A few hours later, long after Caliban and Charles have retired to the old water tower for the night, Logan stands in front of where you perch on the edge of the twin sized cot in your bedroom – if it can even be called that right now.
Aside from the sad excuse of a bed, the only other things in the room are a small bedside table with a lamp, and several storage totes containing your belongings that Caliban had brought in from Logan’s limousine.
If he’d had more time to prepare, he would’ve done more, but just forty-eight hours ago he never would have guessed that you would actually be sitting here in front of him.
“It’s okay,” you shrug. “It’ll be better once I have some of my things unpacked.”
“Right,” Logan nods. “Well, I'll leave you to that then. Just.. let me know if you need anything.”
He turns to exit the room, but freezes when he grabs the doorknob. He turns back around, and finds you looking at him expectantly – almost hopeful.
“I appreciate it. You coming here. You don’t owe me anything after the way I just ran off without any explanation. But I'm really glad that you’re here.”
His heart swells when he sees the way that your expression softens. You’re too good, too forgiving and understanding. The fact that you let him into your home, served him dinner, and packed up your entire life into a few boxes and came here after a year of no contact proves it.
He takes a step closer to you, trying his hardest to ignore the sharp burn that radiates from his lower back as he forces his body forward. Despite how hard he tries to hide the discomfort, you seem to notice that something is bothering him – he can tell by the way your brows furrow together and your mouth sets in a harsh line. You scoot back a few inches on the cot mattress, making room for him to take a seat next to you.
“And I just want you to know that I’m sorry,” he continues, cutting you off before you can even ask if he’s okay.
“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to hear me say it. I’m sorry for the way I handled things. It wasn’t fair to you. I was just scared shitless and wanted to do what I could to keep you safe. Getting as far away from you as possible seemed like the best way to do that at the time.”
Logan internally curses his rambling. Typically a man of few words, he can’t help but feel silly at the sentiment. You’d always had a way of drawing a level of vulnerability from him that no one else ever had. He still feels that effect today.
“I understand why you did what you did, Logan,” you start. You look at him with such understanding that he feels himself physically relax at your words.
“It just… hurt.” You give a small shrug, bringing your hands together to dig your nails into your palms. “I lost my friends too, you know? You and Charles included. I know that you and I, we were never…” you trail off, but he knows what you mean without saying it.
Together. Never truly together.
A million almosts that never amounted to what he truly wanted run through his mind. He’d long ago accepted that you and him would never be more than an unspoken thing but the reminder of it still stings, coming from your lips.
“Anyway,” you shake your head. He wonders if you’re thinking of the same memories that he is – the seemingly small ones.
The ones that he wouldn’t have expected to stick with him, but ended up haunting him. Having a drink in the mansion’s courtyard together after particularly exhausting missions – or even just particularly exhausting days of teaching children. Walking into the kitchen to find you making lunch – and you just so happened to have made enough for him, too. You, on the back of his motorcycle with your arms secured around his stomach, your bodies pressed as close together as they ever had been.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still hurt over it. But the truth is, I was too relieved to find you standing in my driveway to tell you to leave. And I missed you too much to not come back here with you.”
Your voice is barely a whisper by the time you finish speaking. A singular tear leaks from the corner of your eye, which you hastily wipe away.
“Just don't fucking do that again, okay? I definitely wouldn’t be as forgiving if it happened a second time.”
“I wouldn't forgive myself if it happened a second time,” Logan tells you – and he means it. He still doesn’t know if he can forgive himself as is. But you seem to forgive him, and that's enough for him for the time being. “I promise. M’not going anywhere.”
“Good,” you murmur with a small smile, seemingly content with his reassurance. “So, about Charles… I was thinking, if the seizures are as bad as you've told me, I probably won't be much use if he's actively having one. I was thinking that starting tomorrow, I could try to work with him using my powers little bits throughout the day. Not too much at once so he doesn't get frustrated.”
You're right. There’s nothing that anyone can do once one of Charles’ seizures begins, except for Logan. It’s solely due to his healing factor that Logan is able to muster enough strength to administer one of Charles’ injections during a seizure. Humans – as well as mutants like you and Caliban – are rendered incapacitated.
“I’ll let him know that you’re here in the morning,” Logan nods in agreement. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
“I hope so,” you sigh. “I’ve missed him.”
As content as he’d be to sit here and talk to you all night, you’ve both had long days of driving and tomorrow brings a lot of uncertainty, so he knows that he should let you get some rest.
“We should probably try to get some sleep,” he says reluctantly. He starts to push himself off of the cot when the nerve in his lower back catches and causes him to hiss in pain. He tries to play it off, hoping you didn’t notice the way he visibly grimaced at the sudden sharp pain.
“Logan? What's wrong?” You ask, concern etched in your voice. He refuses to meet your gaze, knowing it'll be harder to lie to you if he looks you in the eyes. Instead he forces one foot in front of the other, and takes a slow step forward.
“It’s nothin’. Just stiff from driving so much is all.”
He feels your hand wrap around his wrist as he starts to take another step, stopping him in place. He hangs his head, still refusing to look at you. He doesn't think he can handle the concern and worry that is undoubtedly written on your face.
“If you were anyone else on the planet, I might believe that.” You stand up next to him, and your grip on his wrist only tightens. His face heats up; a side effect of your questioning stare and close proximity.
“But I’ve seen you get impaled with a crow bar before. It healed before I even had time to fret over you. So what’s really going on?”
It hits him how naïve he was to ever believe that he’d be able to easily conceal what’s been happening inside his body from you. The effects of the adamantium poisoning have been becoming more physically apparent for a while now, and you of all people – someone so familiar with not only illness and injury, but also him – were bound to pick up on the fact that something is very different than the last time you saw him.
He finally looks at you, your face every bit as concerned as expected.
“My healing factor has started to slow down,” he says delicately, trying to keep his tone even. The last thing he wants to do is freak you out even more.
“Slow down? How?”
“The shit my bones are made of seems to finally be aging me.” He chooses to forgo using the word poison, but still answers as honestly as he can bring himself to.
“But you don’t need to worry yourself with that, ‘kay? That’s not why you’re here. Some back pain isn’t anything that I can’t handle,” he quickly adds when distress distorts your features.
You purse your lips, leaving him wondering how you’re going to respond.
There’s a sudden sensation radiate from where the skin of your palm and fingers are wrapped around his wrist – it’s a soft vibration, soothing and serene. It starts at his hand and travels up his arm before expanding through his chest, back, and eventually down to the soles of his feet.
For a few moments, he feels like he’s floating. The weight of the adamantium bones disappear for the first time in decades, leaving him feeling feather light. The feeling fades away as gradually as it appeared, and with it subsides the pinching in his lower back.
He realizes that he’s looking at you as if you grew a second head. He doesn’t know why he’s so taken off guard – he’s seen your powers first hand before. He just never imagined there would be a time that he’d actually learn how it feels to be on the receiving end of them.
He glances down at where you finally release your hold on his hand. When you pull away, he sees the remnants of a purple glow emanating from your palm.
“I figured you would have said no if I had asked beforehand. Am I wrong?”
“No,” he admits in a gruff tone. “Guess not.”
“Well? How does your back feel now?” You look at him with raised brows, as if you don’t already know the answer.
“Better. But don’t make a habit out of that. I want you saving your energy for Charles.”
Truthfully, he physically feels the best that he has in months. In addition to his back being free of the sharp pinching sensation, the chronic stiffness that has plagued his body is gone. Even his eyesight seems clearer.
But he thinks back to one of his earliest memories of you – the one that had presented itself in his most recent dream. He remembers the vibrancy of your power gradually dimming as you grew more tired and the way that your forehead glistened with sweat when you were worn out from excessive use of your powers.
You roll your eyes and plop back down on the edge of your cot.
“I’m more than capable of helping you and Charles both. Do you think I’d really let you suffer, knowing you’re in discomfort?”
He knows that trying to fight you on this is as about as useful as arguing with a brick wall.
“I don't doubt your capability,” he tells you gently as he eases towards the door to your room. “But I'm not the priority here. Now get some rest, alright?”
Your response is a brief nod that tells him he hasn’t heard the last of this conversation.
“Goodnight, Logan.”
Just down the hallway, he traces the tips of his fingers over where your hand had been wrapped around his until he falls into the most peaceful and comfortable sleep he’s had in over a year.
••••••
“She’s a healer. She worked at the school as a nurse and teacher. You remember her, yeah? She’s here to see if she can help us out some.”
Logan hands Charles a double dose of pills and watches until he’s swallowed them. They are already running low on the seizure suppressants as is, but he makes him double up anyway. He’d rather be on the safe side, since you are going to be working with Charles this morning.
“Of course I remember her,” Charles retorts after he’s taken the pills. “As if I could ever forget with how often I see her face appear in your mind.”
“Could you do me a favor and not mention that, maybe?” Logan grumbles. He doesn’t doubt that it’s true, but he’d prefer Charles to not mention it within the first five minutes of seeing you.
The door to the old water tower creaks open, allowing midday sun to infiltrate the dim space as you come inside. Caliban enters behind you.
“Hi, Charles,” you greet him cheerfully “It's so nice to see you.”
Your voice doesn’t give it away, but Logan notices the nervousness in your gait – in the way that your posture is rigid and your footsteps are shorter and quicker than normal as you walk over to them.
Charles gives you a smile – the first genuine smile that Logan has seen from him in as long as he can remember.
“Hello, my dear,” he beams at you. “We’ve missed you.”
You return his smile with a bashful one of your own, and wring your hands together in front of you.
“I’ve missed you guys, too,” you say, your eyes flickering between him and Logan. “I’m glad to be here. I’m going to be using my powers to try to get your seizures under control. Is that okay with you?”
“Anything sounds better than these two cramming pills down my throat like clockwork,” he grunts with a glare at Logan and Caliban.
“It’s not exactly fun for us either, you know,” Caliban scoffs.
“Enough, you two,” Logan interjects when Charles opens his mouth to respond. “We—” he motions to himself and Caliban, “are going to give them some privacy.”
He'd be lying if he said the thought of leaving you alone with Charles during what will undoubtedly be a vulnerable time didn’t make him nervous. But he doesn’t want to overcrowd and overwhelm him, either.
Though a large majority of Charles’ seizures are random, many have been brought on by a state of a emotional distress, too.
He knows that he doesn’t exactly possess a natural aura of peace like you do.
A hint of anxiety flashes across your features before you quickly compose yourself. Logan starts to follow Caliban’s lead to the door, but stops when he's directly in front of you.
He reaches out and almost puts a hand on your waist before he thinks twice of it. His fingers linger awkwardly at your hip for a moment before he drops the hand back down to his side.
“I'll be close by, okay? If you need anything,” he says to you lowly. He glances over his shoulder to see Charles now tending to his bonsai tree, not paying attention to anyone around him.
“I know,” you assure him with a smile and nod of your head. “Don’t worry. I won’t push him. If he starts to get agitated, frustrated, bored… I’ll stop immediately.”
Logan gives you one final, short nod before reluctantly following Caliban outside and back into the smelting plant.
“You sure do seem to be getting around well for someone who could barely walk yesterday,” Caliban says in a faux casual voice as he tugs the balaclava style mask off of his head as soon as he is out of the sunlight.
Logan sighs and curses under his breath, already knowing the direction that this conversation is headed.
“Now that I'm thinking about it, I also didn't hear you having any nightmares all the way from the water tower last night. Must have had a good night’s sleep.”
“What's your point?” Logan snaps. He yanks the fridge open, scanning the scarce shelves for something to eat.
He really needs to go to the grocery store once you've finished up with Charles. And buy you an actual bed. And stock back up on Charles’ medications –
“No point,” Caliban continues, “Just glad to see that you changed your mind about telling her about your condition is all. Even if you did threaten me within an inch of my life to not tell her right before you left for Colorado.”
“What can I say,” Logan grunts. “She isn't blind. She clocked it within an hour of being here.”
Logan spends the next hour alternating between pacing the floor of the smelting plant and smoking cigars outside of the water tower. He reminds himself repeatedly that everything must be going okay, because if it wasn't, he would know by now.
He also reminds himself of the intense feeling of tranquility that came over him when he felt the effects of your powers. He can’t imagine anyone not finding it euphoric – even Charles, in all of his stubbornness.
He's finishing up a cigar when you exit the water tower after what feels like an eternity. He immediately stubs it out, remembering how you used to tease him about getting cancer if he didn’t stop smoking.
It wouldn’t surprise him if that was an actual possibility for him these days.
“How’d it go?” he greets you. He tries to keep his voice neutral – doesn’t want to make it obvious how anxious he’s been for the last hour. “Did he do okay?”
“I guess we won’t really know until he either has a seizure or… doesn’t,” you sigh. “He did surprisingly well. But the damage that the Alzheimer’s has done to his brain is widespread. I doubt there’s much reversing it. My goals are to reduce the severity and frequency of the seizures and to stop the damage from progressing any further.”
The two of you walk side by side back to the smelting plant, where Logan opens the door for you.
“So that means that I might be staying here for quite some time.”
You ease past him through the small doorframe, your chest grazing against him ever so slightly. The familiar light scent of vanilla and honey lingers after you’re walking away.
Were you just smirking at him or is he hallucinating?
Scratch that, were you just flirting with him?
“I think I can find a way to be okay with that.”
He didn’t expect you to go back to Colorado anytime too soon, given how much you packed – and the fact that your fucking Christmas tree sits in the common area – but he can't ignore that hearing you imply that you have no intention of leaving in the immediate future brings him more comfort than it probably should.
With your back turned to him as you open the refrigerator, he’s unable to see your expression, but he hears you hum in response – a sound somewhere between amusement and contentment.
“But if I'm going to be staying here for any amount of time, the food situation is going to have to improve. How do you live like this?”
He sighs, remembering the current state of the fridge and cabinets. He ended up settling on an overripe banana for breakfast. He normally reserves grocery shopping for his off days – Mondays or Tuesdays – but those days had been occupied with traveling to and from Colorado this week.
“I’ve got some errands to run today,” he starts, feeling an inkling of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach. “Get some groceries and refills on Charles’ medications… if you wanted to come with me.”
He tells himself that he invites you because it just makes sense – of course you need to familiarize yourself with the area that you're going to be living in, even if it's just temporary. It's important to know where the closest grocery store, and gas station, and pharmacy is.
And it also just makes sense that he would be the one who to show you around. Charles can't even go to the bathroom by himself and Caliban is allergic to the sun.
That's what he tells himself, anyway.
“I could be persuaded to go with you,” you drawl. “If…” You trail off, leaving Logan to look at you with a cocked brow.
“If you let me ride in the backseat of your limousine?”
••••••
“Well? Was it everything you thought it would be?”
Logan sits directly across from you in a small booth at a mom-and-pop diner. It’s nearly noon and you had yet to eat today, so Logan made the last minute decision to pull into the restaurant’s parking lot after acquiring Charles’ medications.
“What?” you question as you swallow a mouthful of chocolate chip pancakes. It may not be breakfast time anymore, but he knew you would appreciate the fact that this place serves all day breakfast.
“Being chauffeured around in a limousine.”
“For some reason the limo smelled like a Christmas tree farm exploded in it,” you say nonchalantly. “But the driver insisted on taking me out for all you can eat pancakes so I’m still going to leave him a good review.”
“I’m sure he had a perfectly good reason for his limo smelling like that,” he retorts in mock defense. “But he probably should try to take care of that before he goes back to work tonight,” he adds, making a mental note to pick up some air freshener at the store.
A cheeky grin spreads across your face. You look like you’re about give him some kind of smart remark when the waitress walks over to the booth with a steaming pot of coffee.
“Good to see you in here with someone for a change,” the older woman, who Logan knows is named Lucille without having to look at her name tag, remarks as she tops off both of your mugs. “Did you finally take my advice?” She asks Logan.
“Every time he comes in here I tell him that he needs to get on one of those dating apps,” she says to you before he can answer.
You immediately cover your mouth to keep from spewing your coffee across the table.
Logan’s face heats up by ten degrees. He should have known better than to trust Lucille to be able to read the room.
“No,” he snaps. “I have not downloaded Tinder. Or Bumble, or Hinge. Maybe you should give them a try and stop worrying about my love life.”
He shoos her away, but she just cackles and slaps him on the shoulder.
“Honey, I’ve been married for forty-five years.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s your ring?” He asks, nodding towards her naked ring finger.
“We’re not allowed to wear jewelry on the clock, Nosey Nelly,” she jabs back. You sit silently, watching the interaction with pursed lips to keep from laughing.
“Nosey Nelly,” Logan grumbles under his breath as he fishes his wallet out of his pants pocket. He pulls out his debit card and slaps it into her palm.
You finally release a snort of laughter when Lucille waddles away.
“I take it that’s your best friend?”
“Believe it or not, she’s an improvement from Caliban.”
The two of you finish your meal with easy flowing conversation. You tell him what led you to Colorado, and about how you worked part time at a veterinarian’s office and part time at a bookstore. He tells you about some of the drunk, unhinged customers that he's had in his limousine lately.
It’s easy for him to forget that less than forty-eight hours ago, he hadn’t seen you in over a year.
Before your lives were irrevocably altered, you had been one of the closest friends he had ever had. One of the most important people in his life. Sitting across from you now, it’s too easy for him to remember why that was.
••••••
Logan’s reluctant to go to work tonight.
And it’s not just because he fucking hates his job and isn’t in the mood to tolerate the bachelor party currently occupying his backseat.
To an extent, he’s always nervous to go to work. He works night shifts because Charles sleeps at night, and is therefore less likely to be triggered into a seizure during the nighttime hours. It’s the safest time for Logan to be away.
It hasn’t happened before, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t. And with you now at the smelting plant, he worries about it happening while he’s away even more than he typically would.
He arrives at the strip club that the groom had requested he drive to and parks. They all drunkenly stagger out of the back of the vehicle, leaving Logan to relish in the silence after the door slams shut.
He pulls his phone from his coat pocket and sees that he has no messages.
He’d told you to text him if you needed anything, so it’s a good thing that you haven’t, right?
It’s just before midnight, so you're most likely asleep. The lack of a text is probably not anything as drastic as the conclusions that his brain is jumping to.
Still, he can't stop his fingers as he types out a message and hits send.
How’s the new bed?
After your brunch date – Lucille's words, not his – the two of you bought enough groceries to feed four people for a week and then went to the only furniture store in town to find you an upgrade from the fold out cot that they'd happened to have on hand when you arrived.
His phone dings just a minute later. He releases the breath he’d been holding before even reading your response.
It’s a major improvement. You were right - not too soft, not too firm. Though it feels a whole lot bigger than it did in the store.
He reads over the text at least five times and thinks back to your time in the mattress store earlier that day.
The first couple mattresses you tested out were too soft, the next few too firm. Logan didn’t mind that you were being indecisive – really. He was secretly relieved to have an excuse to spend more time with you, away from Caliban and Charles.
He laid down on a mattress that you hadn’t checked out yet and instantly thought that it was significantly better than his personal mattress at the smelting plant.
“What about this one?” He asks, patting the empty space next to him on the queen sized bed. You walk over to the opposite side of the bed and crawl in beside him. With your arms down at your sides, one rests against his. The mattress is more than big enough for you, but with him next to you, it’s a cozy fit.
He types: Is that a good thing or a bad thing? and presses send before he can overthink it. His screen shows that you read the message right away, and he can’t help but imagine the smirk on your face as you lay tucked beneath the covers.
The words ‘What do you think?’ appear on his screen.
He thinks he feels like a fucking teenager with the way that a few harmless, borderline flirtatious text messages from you has him imagining what it would be like to really share the bed with you.
His jeans begin to feel uncomfortably tight. He clicks the phone off and tosses it in the empty passenger seat beside him, before he says something that crosses a line that he can’t uncross.
••••••
The relief that your powers had provided Logan had been blissful but short-lived.
By the time he gets home from work at around four in the morning, his back pain has returned with a vengeance.
Everyone is asleep when he gets in, of course. He hobbles to his room as quietly as he can. Caliban and Charles are in the water tower, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. He hopes that by the time that you’re both awake later today, the pain will have subsided in his sleep.
Two hours after he lies down, he realizes that sleeping it off is an impossibility with the amount of discomfort he’s in. He’s done nothing but toss and turn in a futile attempt to find a comfortable sleeping position, the extra strength ibuprofen and his heating pad only doing so much to ease the stabbing sensation at the base of his spine.
He knows the answer to his problem is just down the hallway.
But it's early – the sun is just now starting to rise and he has yet to hear you stir from your room. He can't bring himself to wake you up over some back pain, knowing that you'll need to use your powers to help Charles soon.
He sits up with a deep groan, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. If he already can't sleep, he may as well make something to eat and settle the rumbling in his stomach.
Taking slow, short strides, he walks back down the hallway to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage.
He comes to a halt when he sees your door open, your head popping out from around the frame.
“Can’t sleep?” You ask, your voice huskier than normal with sleep.
“How’d you guess?”
You step into the hallway, still in a pair of plaid sleep pants and an oversized crewneck.
“Your bed creaks every time you move.” You cross your arms over your chest, standing less than half a foot away from him. There’s evident concern on your face when you take in his stiff posture. “This place has thin walls.”
“Sorry to keep you awake.” He looks down at the ground, embarrassed. “I’ll stay in the living roo—”
“Don’t be silly,” you stop him. You grab his hand in yours and begin to pull him back in the direction of his bedroom.
He thinks about protesting – part of him wants to tell you that you shouldn’t bother. He thinks he should tell you that he appreciates it, but he’s a lost cause, and the relief will only be temporary.
But your hand is too warm and your skin is too soft and in the end, he isn’t strong enough to deny himself the feeling of your touch, so he let’s you lead the way to his bed.
You drop his hand to position yourself on one side of the bed. You don’t get underneath the comforter, but you do pull it back on his side so that he can crawl beneath it.
His isn’t quite as big as your new bed – it’s only a full size mattress, so it’s even more cramped than when the two of you laid on the mattress in the store yesterday, but he isn’t complaining.
It's unchartered territory for you two, this type of intimacy. He doesn’t remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone, but if there’s one person on the planet that he trusts enough to allow next to him in such a vulnerable state, it’s you.
“Lay however is most comfortable for you,” you instruct him gently.
He maneuvers onto his side, facing you. You copy his position, your faces inches away from each other’s on a shared pillow.
“Now close your eyes,” you whisper.
He does as you ask, and then feels your palm rest against the thick stubble of his jaw. Your thumb grazes across the skin of his cheekbone. He melts into your touch before you’ve even started using your powers.
“Is this okay?” you murmur.
“Mm-hmm,” he sighs against your hand. “Could just lay like this for a while and I’d probably fall asleep. Don’t even need to use your powers.”
You snort and run the tips of your fingers through his beard.
“How about I do both? That okay?”
He nods, too tired to think about stopping you.
He falls asleep to the soft hum of your powers within minutes, and dreams of the color purple.
••••••
Over the next few weeks, everyone falls into a comfortable routine.
You continue to work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and then again in the evenings. Your powers help him more than Logan ever could have hoped for. Not only is this the longest he’s gone without having a seizure in months, but he’s also increasingly lucid and alert, and more like his old, spunky self than ever.
Most weeknights you cook dinner for everyone, and Tuesdays become the day that you join Logan in going to town for a weekly grocery restock and brunch at the same diner that he first took you to a few weeks ago.
He tries not to make it too obvious, but it quickly becomes one of the best parts of his week – even with Lucille’s relentless teasing about how there’s “no way you’re just friends” and Logan would be “the biggest idiot on the planet to not lock you down”.
Neither of you ever put much energy into disagreeing with her.
The other best parts of his week occur early in the mornings, before daylight breaks and Charles and Caliban are still sound asleep. He gets home from work and you move from your bed and into his, relieving him of any physical discomfort he could be experiencing from hours of driving around and lulling him to sleep.
The first few nights, he’d wake hours later to find that you had escaped back to your own room after he’d fallen asleep. Then, one morning, when he woke up, he opened his eyes to find your face resting against his shoulder.
You stopped bothering to go back to your own room after that.
This evening – Christmas eve – Logan sits on his bed and stares at the gift that he’d gotten you while you finish preparing the dinner that you’d been working on for the last few hours.
He feels silly. There hadn’t been any discussion on getting each other gifts and he worries that it’ll make you feel weird.
It’s an espresso machine – nothing too fancy, but it’ll get the job done. You had recently mentioned how much you miss the espresso machine that you had in Colorado. The house you had been renting came furnished, which included an espresso machine that you were unable to bring with you to Mexico.
He stopped by a Target before work a couple nights ago and picked it out. To top off how silly he feels, he’d completely forgotten to buy wrapping paper or even a gift bag, so he’ll just be handing it to you as is.
“Dinner is almost ready!” He hears your voice call from the kitchen.
The smell of honey glazed ham and fresh rolls wafts down the hallway. He places the box containing the espresso machine on the floor beside his bed, planning to give it to you after Charles and Caliban go to bed in a few hours.
When he rejoins everyone in the common area, Charles is watching Home Alone and Caliban is gathering plates and silverware for everyone while you remove a large dish of baked mac and cheese from the oven.
“Smells great,” Logan compliments as he grabs a beer out of the fridge. ��Anything I can help with?” he asks, as if you hadn’t all but shooed him out of the kitchen just an hour ago.
You place the casserole dish on a trivet before grabbing one of the plates that Caliban had set out.
“Yes, actually,” you say, surprising him. You hand him the plate with a small smirk. “You can make Charles a plate.”
“Oh, can I?” He takes a step closer to you, taking the plate and grinning down at you. “Are you sure you trust me to do that?”
“Hey, it’s not my fault that you’ve been alive two hundred years and haven’t taken the time to learn to cook.”
“Well, I guess I'll just have to have you teach me-"
“Would you two stop flirting and get me some ham?” Charles voice booms over the television and silences you both.
Logan notices you purse your lips to keep from smiling as you turn your attention back to the spread of food across the dining room table.
Soon, you’re all four sat around the dining room table with plates piled high with traditional holiday dishes. Logan is halfway through clearing his plate when Charles clears his throat to speak.
“This is wonderful,” he directs at you. “Thank you very much. You know, this all feels very familiar to me…” he trails off, glancing between you and Logan from across the table. The smile on his face fades, and in it’s place appears an expression of confusion.
From the corner of his eye, Logan sees your grip on your fork tighten.
“Thank you, Charles,” you tell him. You try to sound cheerful, but Logan doesn’t miss the nervous edge to your voice. He knows that you’re noticing the same thing as him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Yes, these candied sweet potatoes are delicious,” Caliban interjects in an obvious attempt to maintain easy conversation. “You'll have to give me your rec—”
“This feels so familiar,” Charles repeats and all three of you go silent.
In his gut, Logan fears that he knows what is coming. It always starts this way. One minute, everything will be perfect. The next, something triggers a memory, or a feeling, and Charles is hit with the weight of the past – with the weight of the trauma that his brain normally blocks out.
“This feels like… how Christmas used to feel. When we’d have dinner at the.. at the mansion. With all of our friends before I.. before I killed them—”
“Charles,” Logan says firmly, but Charles continues to stare into space. “It wasn't your fault. Okay? Let's enjoy this nice dinner. Do you want some more green beans—”
But he’s unable to finish his sentence before it begins. The exact thing he’s been the most terrified of since you arrived here weeks ago.
Across from him, Caliban's face is frozen in agony. Beside him, your mouth is open as if to scream, but no sound comes out. Every one around him is still, and his body suddenly feels a few hundred pounds heavier.
It's been weeks since Charles’ last seizure, but Logan knew it was too good to be true – knew that it was bound to happen again eventually. He'd planned for this, knowing the effects of the psionic energy would hurt you as they do Caliban.
Logan forces himself into a standing position by pushing off of the dining room table, and then takes as big of steps as he possibly can to get to the opposite side, where Caliban and Charles sit.
He ignores the blinding nerve pain all over his body, he ignores the intense ringing in his ears, he ignores the way it feels as if all of the air has been ripped from his lungs and reaches down to grab the bag of medication from the compartment beneath Charles’ wheelchair – where he's made sure to keep it, in case of this exact scenario.
Despite his shaking hands, he manages to retrieve an injection and uncap it. He jabs the tip of the needle into the flesh of Charles’ shoulder with as much force as he can muster, then collapses to the floor beside him.
Charles releases a grief stricken groan, realizing what had happened. Logan hears both you and Caliban gasping for air.
“I'm sorry,” Charles cries. “I'm so sorry..”
Logan pulls himself off of the ground using the edge of the table and instantly turns his attention to you. Your eyes are wide and your hands are visibly shaking in your lap, but you exhale the breath you'd been holding when your eyes meet Logan's.
You push your chair back, standing and closing the distance between the two of you. Your hands grip the tops of Logan's biceps. He instinctively rests his on the sides of your stomach.
“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice wobbly and several octaves higher than normal.
“I'm fine,” he assures you delicately. “Are you okay?”
You nod, hesitantly at first and then more confidently as you take him in and seem to realize that he really is alright.
“I'm fine too,” Caliban grunts from across the table. “Don’t worry yourselves with me.”
Logan and you both quickly retract your hands, breaking the embrace. You turn your attention to Charles, who seems to be in another world.
“Charles? Are you alright?” You ask him softly.
“Hm?” He hums as he glances up at you. “Oh, yes. I’m alright. I think.. I think I’d like to go to bed now,” he murmurs. Logan, you, and Caliban all exchange glances before Logan tosses the bag of medication to Caliban.
“Give him a double dose of the suppressants and some sleep medicine,” Logan instructs him. Caliban nods wordlessly and wheels Charles away from the dining room table, towards the smelting plant’s door.
Once they’ve left the building, Logan turns to you. You look visibly shaken, and he can’t blame you. He remembers all too well how frightening the effects of the seizure was the first time he experienced it. Even with this one being relatively short lived, he knows it had to have been more painful and scary for you than it was for him.
“I’ll clean all of this up, okay?” He says, gesturing towards the half eaten dinners and the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “You go relax. Take a shower, lay down for a while—”
“Really, Logan. I'm okay, I prom—”
“Will you do that for me?”
To his surprise, you don't object any further. You give him a small nod, and a comforting squeeze to his hand as you walk past him.
He doesn't release the sigh of both relief and frustration that he’d been holding in until he hears the shower turn on a few moments later.
••••••
As soon as Logan finishes tidying up from dinner, he cuts two small slices of an apple pie you had baked and puts them on a plate for the two of you to share.
Your door is slightly cracked, the soft orange light from your table lamp spilling into the hallway. He knocks quietly and waits for you to tell him to come in.
You’re in your pajamas, tucked under a blanket with a book partially obscuring your face. You do little to acknowledge his presence, so he takes a seat on the edge of your bed and places the plate of pie beside him.
The room looks significantly different than it did just a few weeks ago. In addition to the new bed, you'd also acquired a vintage dresser and an area rug that you’d found for cheap at a thrift store. You have books in piles throughout the room, one of the things that you were most adamant about bringing with you from Colorado.
“Charles is alright,” he tells you gently. “He must have just been really tired. He didn’t nap much today. Caliban said he fell asleep really quickly after taking his medicine.”
“Except that wasn’t why he had a seizure,” you sigh, closing your book. Logan now has a better view of your face, and the first thing he notices is that your eyes look red-rimmed and watery. You sit up straight, and he inches closer to you on the bed.
“Hey, what’s going—”
“It was definitely my fault that he had a seizure,” you sniffle, looking at him with defeat.
“What? No,” Logan shakes his head. You have a blanket draped across your lap, but Logan places his hand on your knee over top of it. “What makes you say that?”
“I always work with Charles for an hour in the mornings and an hour in the afternoons,” you start, frustration evident in your voice. “But this afternoon, I cut our session short because he wasn’t really in the best mood and I wanted to get started on prep for dinner.”
You wipe underneath your eye with the sleeve of your shirt and look away from Logan’s gaze.
“Sweetheart, you can’t blame yourself for this,” he assures you as he rubs slow circles on your knee with his thumb. “He was having seizures almost every single day before you got here. You’re not the reason he had a seizure today. But you are the reason he’s been able to go weeks without having one.”
“Okay?” He prompts when you don’t respond. You finally look him in the eye again, and offer a small nod of agreement.
He hands you the plate of apple pie, earning a small smile from you.
“Wait here. I’ve got something for you,” he tells you as he stands up and begins walking towards your door.
“Something for me?” you question, but he’s already halfway down the hallway.
He grabs the espresso machine from beside his bed and heads back to your room. He still feels nervous to give it to you, but right now he’s just hoping that it will help cheer you up.
When he re-enters your room, you’re forking a bite of pie into your mouth and freeze when you see what he’s carrying. He sits back down on the edge of the bed, still holding the box. You sit the plate of pie on your bedside table and scoot closer to him.
“Logan, you didn’t have to,” you murmur. He hands you the box and you hug it to your chest, but only look at him. He thinks your eyes are starting to look watery again. “I feel so bad. I didn’t get you anything—”
He waves his hand in dismissal, not surprised at all by your reaction.
“I know I didn’t have to. Just wanted to. Is that okay?”
You inspect the espresso machine with a bashful grin. “Thank you. I love it,” you assure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I just wish I had gotten you something, too.”
“That’s not necessary,” he says, staring down at where your hand holds his. “You give me everything I need just by being here.”
You go still at his words with a look he can’t quite read on your face. You pull your hand away from his before placing the espresso box on the floor next to your bed. The hand that previously held his comes to cradle his face, your thumb grazing along his cheekbone. He turns his head ever so slightly to the side so that his lips graze against your palm. He kisses the skin once, then twice, and your eyes flutter closed.
His heightened senses don’t miss the way your heart rate picks up, or the way that you hold your breath as his lips linger on your skin.
“What are you thinking about?” He murmurs into the side of your hand. You open your eyes, your pupils dilated.
“Same thing I’ve been thinking about for years now,” you whisper as you lean forward, pulling his face to you.
You capture his lips in yours, opening up for him without hesitation. He slips his tongue into your mouth, the sensation simultaneously feeling brand new and like you’ve done this dance a hundred times before.
He scoots further back onto the mattress, away from the edge. He pulls you with him, guiding you onto his lap. You straddle him, his hands resting on your lower back. You fist your hands around the fabric of his flannel, pulling him flush against you.
It's years of pent up desire and longing that you pour into each other. You drag your teeth along the swell of his bottom lip and he groans into your mouth, resisting the urge to buck his hips up against your center.
He knew you looked sweet, smelled sweet – but never would he have guessed that you’d taste even sweeter. Even if it weren’t for the faint hint of cinnamon and apples from the pie you’d nibbled on, he’d think you were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
You grind down against the uncomfortable bulge contained by his jeans and whimper – the prettiest sound he’s ever fucking heard and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You pull back, your chest heaving from lack of air.
“Why didn’t we do that years ago?” you ask breathlessly. He reaches up to your face, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear.
“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he answers quickly. His eyes lock on your kiss swollen lips and he thinks you’ve never looked prettier than you do right now – staring down at him with puffy lips wet with his kiss. “But now that I’ve kissed you, I’m not gonna stop. Gonna kiss you for as long as you’ll let me.”
And to prove his point, he starts trailing wet, open mouth kisses along your jaw and down your throat. You throw your head back, giving him unhindered access to the skin of your neck. He alternates between kissing and nipping the tender flesh, leaving a damp trail across your skin.
You grab at the hem of your shirt and Logan pulls away to allow you to tug it over your head. You’re left naked from the waist up and Logan is left feeling like his cock is going to break through the zipper of his jeans.
With your tits directly in front of his face, he latches his mouth to one nipple and palms the other in his hand. You rock yourself against his erection, chasing the relief that the friction provides you.
“Logan,” you pant from above him. “Please—”
He pulls his mouth away from you with a wet pop, leaving your nipple glistening and taut.
“Tell me what you want, honey.”
You let out a low whimper at the pet name and drag your fingers through his hair. He toys with the waistband of your pajamas pants, popping the elastic band lightly against your skin.
“Your mouth,” you say, the words somewhere between a whine and a plea. “I wanna feel your mouth on me.”
He groans at the bluntness of your words. Hearing you say that you want his mouth on you has his cock throbbing in his pants.
“Yeah?” He taunts as he maneuvers you off of his lap. He quickly tugs his own shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his chest, your mouth slightly agape.
He tilts your head so that you’re looking at his face again and tugs at your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.
In that moment, he hopes you never stop looking at him like that.
“You gonna sit on my face?”
You nod, eagerly. You push your pajama pants down past your ass and thighs, and Logan helps pull them the rest of the way over your calves and ankles. You lean forward, reaching for the waistline of his jeans and fumbling with the button until it pops open.
He sees you completely naked before him and his brain goes momentarily blank. He can’t believe he actually gets to see you like this – bare for him and more perfect than he ever could have envisioned.
And believe him, he had tried. Nothing could have prepared him for how it actually feels to see you, touch you, taste you after years of yearning for you.
“Lay down for me?” You ask with a small laugh, snapping him out of his trance. He does as you ask, placing his head on one of your pillows.
You straddle his chest, your back to his face. He helps you inch backwards until your pussy hovers directly over his mouth. He pauses for a moment, spreading your thighs apart with his hands to give him a clear view of your already dripping cunt before yanking you the rest of the way down to his mouth.
You moan as soon as his tongue slides through your wet folds, bracing your hands on the defined planes of his chest. The sweet and salty tang of you fills his mouth and he has to resist moaning goddamn, I love you into your cunt.
He could get drunk off of the flavor of you.
You grind yourself against his face, your juices coating his beard and your inner thighs. He’s so focused on working you with his lips and tongue that he doesn’t even notice you pushing his jeans and boxers down until he feels his cock spring back and slap his lower belly.
“Fuck,” you moan at the sight of him. You pump him in your hand, smearing the pre-cum from his slit down his shaft. “You're so big. I don’t know how you’ll fit inside me.”
He hears you spit, then feels it drip across his tip. You smear the warm wetness down his length and press a kiss to the side of his cock before taking him in your mouth. The head nudges against the back of his throat before you pull back, then ease back in, slow and deep.
He’s always loved your lips, but right now he’s doesn’t think he could ever love them more. He wants to watch as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head along his length, but that’s going to have to wait for another time.
Right now, he’s right where he wants to be. He has your swollen clit locked between his lips, sucking on it to the point that your legs quiver around his head. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his stomach as you run your tongue down the entirety of his cock and stroke him in your hand.
“I’ve waited so long to taste you,” he grunts from beneath you. The vibrations of his voice making your pussy clench around the finger that he teases your hole. “This cunt’s so fuckin’ sweet.”
He eases his index finger past your entrance, your walls constricting around the digit. “And so fuckin’ tight,” he adds, pumping in and out of you as you begin to move forwards, then backwards, up, and then down – grinding against his finger.
“Logan, I'm gonna cum,” you cry and it makes his balls tighten. He feels it – the way you gush around his finger and the way your legs clench around his head.
You ride out your orgasm above him, and then collapses against his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat against his, despite the fact that the current cold front has the smelting plant colder than normal tonight.
You roll off of him, falling onto the mattress next to him. Your slick glistens on your thighs in the soft glow of your lamplight. It's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, he thinks. You fucked out and delirious from your climax.
But he thinks he might fucking die if he has to spend one more second of his abnormally long life not knowing how it feels to be buried inside you.
He helps pull you into a sitting position, and then lays you down in his place. Your tits heave as you try to regain control of your breathing. He's on his knees, fisting himself in his hand as he nudges your knees open. Your eyes are locked on his cock, a look of half excitement and half terror.
“You can take it, honey. I know you can,” he coos.
He slaps the tip against your clit, then glides it up and down your wet length. Not entering you quite yet, but coating himself in your slick. He looks down at himself next to your pretty, wet cunt and imagines how it’ll be to see it sliding in and out of you.
“Just been a while, that’s all,” you say, pulling him down to the by the back of the neck. He lines himself up at your entrance, nudging just the tip in. Even that’s a stretch for you, he can tell by the way your mouth forms an O shape.
He goes still for a moment – for your sake, but for his own, as well. He has to adjust to the warm tightness of your pussy before he trusts himself to go any deeper.
“I know, baby. Been a while for me too. Been waiting for you for a long time.”
He slates his lips over yours, kissing you messy and deep as he slowly sheaths himself inside you. He stills again once he’s buried to the hilt, and breaks the kiss to look down at you.
“You okay?” He murmurs. He props himself up on one forearm by your head, and brings his free hand to roll one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
You give him another eager nod, and wrap your legs securely around his hips, hooking your ankles together just below his ass.
“Mm-hmm,” you sigh. “Need you to move now, Logan.”
With his cock throbbing inside you, he doesn’t make you tell him twice. His length drags along the soft, spongy interior of your walls as he pulls out and eases back in. He gives you a few languid, slow strokes to accommodate the newfound stretch before it's hard for him to hold back.
He gets lost in it all – in the wet, tight heat of your cunt, in the sounds that your bodies make as he repeatedly snaps into you, in every expression on your face and every noise that slips past your lips.
You snake your arms around his abdomen, your hands coming to rest on his lower back.
“H-how’s your back?” You stammer out as he continues to piston his hips forward.
“I've never been better,” Logan grunts, resting his sweat slicked forehead against yours.
It's the truth. He’s never felt better than he does right now, between your legs – even if he is feeling this in his back. He'll deal with any and all repercussions later, once he's felt you cum around his cock while you cry his name.
You smile up at him as if to say wanna bet?
You flatten your hands across his skin at the base of his spine, and he doesn’t have to be able to see it to know what you're doing. He's experienced the effects of your powers enough by now to recognize them instantly – the low vibration they emit and the immediate warmth that spreads throughout his body.
“Gonna make me cum, honey,” he warns you. “Feels too good.” He feels your walls constrict around him when he calls you honey.
“Kiss me and I’ll cum with you,” you tell him in a breathy voice that he could listen to talk in all fucking night.
He kisses you again, this time more hurried than anytime before as he chases both of your releases. He spills into you with a deep groan as your cunt spasms around him. You moan his name into his mouth until he stills inside you, the last ropes of his cum filling you up.
He isn’t sure how long the two of you stay like that – with him still tucked inside you, laying pressed against you with his face nuzzling the crook of your neck. You trail your fingers up and down his spine, the sensation the only thing grounding him to reality in his post orgasm haze.
Finally, he pulls back enough to look down at you.
“Stay here,” he says earnestly. “Stay with me. Don't go back to Colorado. One day, we’ll go anywhere you want to. Just the two of us. But right now, please stay—”
“Logan,” you shush him gently. “I wasn’t planning on going back to Colorado. Or anywhere without you.”
He exhales, and kisses you on the forehead before finally pulling out of you and plopping down beside you. He tucks you between his chest and his arm, your head resting just above his heart.
“You know, this new bed of yours is a whole lot comfier than mine,” he comments casually.
“Hmm,” you hum and tilt your head to look up at him. “You should probably sleep here tonight. For your back, of course.”
He laughs, sleep threatening to overtake him at any second. He presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.
“I'm not going anywhere without you, honey.”
••••••
some of my other logan works
diet pepsi - old man logan x reader limousine sex
by the end of the night - worst variant logan has nightmares and mutant reader with emotional regulation abilities helps him sleep better
claw kink drabble
thank you so much for reading 🫶🏻
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fastandcarlos · 2 months ago
Text
On The Mend : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri
summary: with your lack of presence in the paddock, fans are starting to worry, little do they know that you happen to be a little broken back at home
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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 849,183 others
oscarpiastri: another successful week of racing, super proud of the whole team to get the car all the way to P2 this weekend 🏆🏎️
35,058 comments
username1: congratulations oscar, such an awesome drive!!
username2: just a shame that yn wasn’t there to see it once again 🙄
landonorris: so proud of you osc 😭😭😭
username3: surely they can’t still be together, she hasn’t shown her face in weeks…
charles_leclerc: mum is very proud that the two of us were on the podium btw
oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc it was all thanks to her pep talk ofc
username4: we’ll still support you osc even if yn won’t
mclaren: the whole team is so proud of you, congratulations oscar!
username5: enjoy the celebrations, I’m sure the team will be there for you at least 🥲
danielricciardo: congrats brother, always nice to see you repping for down under
username6: either something must be seriously wrong or yn really just doesn’t care anymore 😭
maxverstappen1: hell of a drive from you, great to see you back where you belong!
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ynusername posted two private stories
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georgerussell63: thanks for reminding everyone I got a penalty yn 😂😂
oscarpiastri: make sure you’re resting, you don’t need to worry about the race sweetheart!!
ynusername: I’ve never missed a race of yours 😩
danielricciardo: why tf are you in hospital and why didn’t you tell me immediately so that I could help!!
nicolepiastri: sending you lots of love sweetheart, sorry we can’t be there to help you 💕
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oscarpiastri: I promise to sneak you in loads of snacks as soon as I’m there 💞
lilymhe: I miss you so much, hope you’re recovering well girlie
landonorris: he’s on the first flight outta here straight back to you 🧡
carmenmmundt: sending you all the healing vibes in the world ❤️
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liked by charles_leclerc, logansargeant and 812,948 others
oscarpiastri: wish me luck on the flight, some weird passenger keeps looking over their shoulder at me 👀
36,950 comments
username7: that poor pilot having to drive these two home lmao
danielricciardo: now you get to experience my struggle before you came along 😭
oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo idk how you ever did it 🤦🏻
username8: at least oscar has lando to celebrate with even though others have abandoned him
alex_albon: why else do you think we offered to take you home on our plane instead?! 😂
username9: i wonder if he's going home to yn being there or not
charles_leclerc: you're incredibly brave volunteering to travel home with him 👏🏻
username10: yn should be there with him, i really hope that they're okay
username11: what would we do without these two in our lives!?
maxverstappen1: we tried to talk you out of it but you didn't listen 🤷🏻
username 12: i love how all the boys are exposing lando as a terrible travel partner hahah
landonorris: stop trying to make it sound like we're not bffs osc 💔
oscarpiastri: @/landonorris that's because we're definitely not best friends
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liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 793,722 others
oscarpiastri: seeing as some people want to make it their business, we thought we’d share why yn hasn’t been around recently. a couple of weeks ago she had a nasty fall at home which resulted in a broken leg. yesterday I finally got to bring her home and begin helping her with recovery…just call me doctor piastri from now on 🧑🏻‍⚕️💞
57,492 comments
username13: i hope all you losers who thought they broke up are proud of yourselves 🙄
landonorris: you guys know where i am if you need anything!!
georgerussel63: we love you yn, make sure you get plenty of rest ❤️❤️❤️
username14: sending you so much love yn, get plenty of rest
ynusername: apologies in advance for the lack of sleep you're about to get because of me 😂
oscarpiastri: @/ynusername as long as you're healing idc 🥹
username15: can't believe some of you were so stupid to ever think they'd actually break up
alex_albon: glad to see you're back at home where you belong yn
danielricciardo: do i even want to ask how she managed to break her leg??
oscarpiastri: @/danielricciardo if I told you I don't think you'd believe me 😂
username16: poor oscar looks exhausted having to drive and take care of yn too
charles_leclerc: pls tell me I get to sign the cast ✍️
ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i'll save a spot just for you
username17: please make sure you take care of yourself yn and ignore what everyone has to say
carmenmmundt: sending you so many healing vibes yn, we miss you at the paddock
username18: during a time when they need privacy and instead they've been hounded by nosey idiots 🤦🏻
maxverstappen1: can't wait to see all the doctor piastri content from you! 😂
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liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 682,058 others
oscarpiastri: the only way to get her out of the house atm is to bribe her with coffee ☕️
63,957 comments
username19: it's adorable how much oscar cares about her 🥰
lilymhe: tell her im omw with coffee as we speak to get her out again!
username20: it's so good to see yn back up on her feet and moving around again 🤩
alex_albon: i actually forgot what yn looked like stood upright for a moment
username21: why does it feel like oscar is one of those partners who is constantly checking on her making sure she's doing her exercises and following every single bit of advice
maxverstappen1: yn's injury is really making you look like the doting boyfriend rn ❤️
danielricciardo: if yn ever gets bored of being entertained on a walk by you, you know where i am!
username22: i bet yn can't wait for race weekend again to get rid of the nagging doctor 😂
landonorris: wish you looked after me as well as you look after yn
oscarpiastri: @/landonorris just a shame that we're not dating then really huh?!
username23: anyone else noticed how many drivers have been round this week to take yn out and make sure she's staying active too
username24: @/username23 i think she might just be the most popular wag on the grid
ynusername: i hate you but i love you at the same time these days 💞
oscarpiastri: @/ynusername if the doctor says you keep moving, it's my job to make you move 😂
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liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 59,491 others
ynusername: I always knew oscar was secretly boyfriend coded but damn having him look after me is making me fancy him all over again 🔥
12,056 comments
username25: i think i might've just fallen in love with him all over again too 😍
alexandrasaintmleux: make the most of all of the attention you're getting girl
ynusername: @/alexandrasaintmleux oh I am, he doesn't let me lift a finger 😘
username26: soft, doctor boyfriend oscar might just be my new favourite thing
charles_leclerc: if i see many more of these posts from you i might just need a sick bucket 🤮
username27: yn you really are the luckiest having this guy in your life
carlossainz55: i always knew he was a softie deep down 🥺
oscarpiastri: you know i'd do anything as long as it meant getting you better again
ynusername: @/oscarpiastri you're an angel in disguise i swear
username28: i'd break my leg too if it meant oscar piastri was there to look after me 😂
username29: it melts my heart to see how caring oscar has been over the past few weeks
danielricciardo: even i found myself getting a bit excited when i saw these photos yn
username30: everyone needs an oscar piastri in their life
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ynusername posted two stories
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replies
landonorris: you're ruining oscar's image with every post you share these days 😂
oscarpiastri: there's nowhere else that I'd rather be
ynusername: we'll pretend you didn't complain that it wasn't race weekend first thing this morning shall we???
carmenmmundt: hope it's good news, lemme know how you get on!!
alex_albon: praying for you and hoping that it's the beginning of the end now 💕
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danielricciardo: thinking of you guys, tell the doctor if he doesn't give you good news i'll break his leg 💞
ynusername: something tells me you might find a few challenges in doing that hahah
georgerussell63: you're so strong yn, just remember we love you
charles_leclerc: the whole family is hoping for good news for you and oscar ❤️
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liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 70,238 others
ynusername: the moment i've waited for for so long, back in my second home of the garage and back supporting my love during race weekend
14,592 comments
username31: make sure you keep taking care of yourself yn!! 💕
oscarpiastri: cannot begin to tell you how happy i am to have you back with me again ☺️
ynusername: @/oscarpiastri the best feeling in the world being able to cheer you on again
danielricciardo: ik just how much this means to you, welcome back to us yn
username32: it's so good to see you right back where you belong again
username33: it feels like you've never been away, I'm so happy for you guys 🥹
charles_leclerc: on the mend at last, i hope you know just how many people can't wait to welcome you back this weekend
username34: we love our favourite #81 fan 🧡
iamrebeccad: i am hurrying over to that mclaren garage as fast as i possibly can rn ‼️
username35: so happy to see you back on your feet and back with our favourite duo again
username36: this is the content we've been waiting for, it's so good to see you back
landonorris: as much as i hate having to share oscar again, it's a joy to have you back 🙃
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˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗
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