#she deserves to have one 💕

[waldrea-art]

Miriam | Dragon Age Absolution Absolution cards 1/7 Roland

The Fool - freedom, new beginnings, letting go

more dragon age art | more tarot art

[racing-stripes]

the jewelers hands is the only song ever

[leslieseveride]

opened tiktok to a fan edit of eric and roselyn and had to laugh at the top comment that read, "i'm just so glad for once that the fans don't ignore the wife and try to push two fictional characters to date in real life" because idk what fandom this person is talking about because there is always that one ☝️ egghead out there commenting on chenford edits like, "i ship them in real life too! 😍" and everytime i see one of these comments it makes me want to throw my laptop against the wall because after 6 years you'd think people would learn that eric and melissa kissing on screen is literally just a part of their jobs as actors.

they're only acting as if they are in love, they will never actually be in love. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[decidentia]

Hey gang. ♡ Just a quick note to say I’m gearing up to come back. Things are hectic at work, and I’m on duty all this weekend, but I’m taking leave next week so I should be here a good bit.

[eldrichthingy]

I just had a neighbour come in because of a massive ass moth that somehow??? (I have a mosquito screen or something like that... ON ALMOST EVERY WINDOW. and I don't open others) got into my apartment 🫶🏾 She took it out!! She let it go can't you imagine how fucking brave she is???? I'D NEVER DO IT in fact I almost had a fucking panic attack just looking at this thing-

[blujayonthewing]

❤️,🧠,🍀 for the ask meme! Take your pick of whomth, I’m curious about everyone :3

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

One of Elyss's best memories was getting to meet and hold her newborn niece for the first time! Elyss has been incredibly isolated for her entire life, with (some of) her family being her strongest (and, until very recently, her only) connections in the world, and her brother Max is her best friend and most beloved person. His wife had their daughter, Emily, when Elyss was out living alone in the woods, but she knew roughly when the baby was due and came home pretty shortly after she was born. Holding her was the most pure distilled moment of joy and love Elyss has ever experienced to date. Em is about five now, and Elyss would do absolutely anything in the world for her.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Elyss is very intense, bad with people, and sometimes ruthlessly true neutral, but at the core of almost everything about her is overwhelming love, and a largely unfulfilled desire to be loved. It makes her incredibly compelling to me, and is the source of a lot of her conflict both within herself and with the rest of the world. She prefers to think things through very carefully and act logically and rationally, but she's fundamentally ruled by her emotions and they often get the better of her decision-making in ways that confuse and frustrate her. She craves connection with others, but doesn't know how to forge or maintain relationships, and is so used to social rejection that she has a hard time even recognizing affection when it is there. Like... she's probably my most straightforwardly violent OC but JUST under the surface SO much of her story has been about love and acceptance, or lack thereof, and what she's willing to do out of love for others (almost anything) and I'm so incredibly soft about it

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Elyss was my first 5e character; she was only supposed to be a one-shot character at a weekend get-together with friends, and we built our characters that weekend with free resources and without a lot of prep ahead of time. This is relevant for two reasons: one, I always wanted to play a ranger, and I'd envisioned having an animal companion, but I ended up being sick for most of one of those days and didn't have enough time to wanna have to mess with looking up animal stats and mechanics on top of everything else; and two, the app we were using to quickly build characters listed genasi as a race, and when I found out that was the elementally-aligned race I instantly got the mental image of a character whose skin naturally looked like it was underwater with light rippling though and went OH YEP I'M DOING THAT. Otherwise, a lot of her initial characterization was inspired by me being interested in nature and in wilderness survival, and imagining a person who had spent most of their life alone in the woods building their entire personality and philosophy on life by watching the way the natural world works (and, consequently, not having any social skills because they were never around people).

Ask about my OCs?

[ihamtmus]

THAT'S IT i'm buying my mom a jitb vinyl for her birthday because it's too pretty 🤧✨️💓

[bergamotmandarin]

[dumbbitchgalore]

Aphrodisiac chocolate ft. old man!Price 💕🍫

A few days ago, you receive a box of chocolates from your best friend. It was a black velvety box which almost seemed too sophisticated for a chocolate box. You couldn't help but remember the look on her face when she gave you the box. All winky and smily. At one point you thought that she either had a stroke or that her face got stuck in that position

Now a few days later, you stare at the same box in your fridge sighing softly. Most be one hell of a good chocolate if the box looks like that. You shrug your shoulders and open the box to see what the stroke-like face was all about.

You open the box and only see three divots where the chocolate is supposed to sit, except one is missing. Thinking John may have eaten one, you go to your shared bedroom to ask what it tasted like before you eat one yourself. You've always been skeptical of new desserts so you want to ask him before you tried it just incase it wasn't your cup of tea.

But when you enter the bedroom, you do not expect to find what you did

John Price, former SAS captain, in bed with his eyes screwed shut fisting his cock which looked painfully hard. You drink up the sight in front of you as you listen to his breathy pants and desperate grunts. You walk up to the edge of the bed and move the hair that's clinging to his forehead.

"Honey." You call out to him.

His doesn't stop his movements and just simply opens his eyes slightly, jerking his cock at a brutally fast pace,

"Sweetheart." He croaks out as if he's in pain.

You frown at his discomfort.

"What do you need, handsome?" You whispers softly.

And that was enough to have John manhandle you onto the bed, laying on your chest with your arse in the air. You gasp at his roughness but have never seen John like this before.

John simply moves your panties to the side and rams his cock inside of you. You yelp in shock but that soon turns into a moan when he starts fucking you.

Nice and deep. Hard and merciless. Fuck, this felt good. It felt too good. Your moans are salacious as they reverberate off the walls of your bedroom.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You squeal.

John lets out a breathy laugh as he continues his brutal pace not stopping for a second. And poor you had your face smashed against the pillows but it's not like you mind it one bit. Your moans only get obsscenely louder

A few more thrusts and his cums so hard inside of you that you yelp at the new sensation. Hot, thick and sticky cum coating your insides. And at the same time you chant his name like a prayer as your orgasm hits you hard. John teasingly pulls out and with it, his cum starts to leak out of your hole. You pant and you go limp in bed. Damn, that felt good.

John chuckles, kissing your forehead. "Sometimes I wish that I could do all the time. You deserve being covered in my cum, birdie."

You chuckle hoarsely too. "I don't think I could keep up with you if you're like this all the time." You mumble softly.

He hums in agreement, laying down next to you as he rubs your back gently. "Those chocolates are something else, huh?"

Your eyes widen slightly.

Oh so that's what the chocolates are for.

[frecklystars]

Sierra Six canonically has c-ptsd and has a scene in the movie where he's triggered and having a flashback. The first time I saw that, I had to pause and process it... not only did I immediately feel safe when I saw him on screen for the first time, because he's such a protective person and his main weakness is his loyalty and devotion to his loved ones, but ALSO it comforts me knowing that he'd be so patient and understanding with me when I'm having my own flashbacks or panic attacks from my own abuse. He became a strong comfort character in less than 40 minutes, possibly a new record, I wasn't even done with the movie yet.

I literally paused the movie my first time watching it and NEEDED to write a self ship fic w/ him asap because I was so overwhelmed with how I just... I knew, I knew he would comfort me if I needed it. I knew he'd be here for me. I'm so certain of it. I wrote 30 pages in just a couple of hours and it was also the first time I wrote anything in over a year.

I still jolt awake from nightmares and I barely get 3 hours of sleep every night, sometimes no sleep at all. Insomnia is a part of ptsd and my sleep schedule was already a wreck before I had to deal w/ my abuser. And it feels SO comforting to know that when I wake up gasping, sweating, crying, Six is bursting through the door (or if he's asleep in the same room with me, he's immediately alert and scrambling to my side) and he's scooping me into his arms and he's immediately saying it's okay, it's okay. Keri, you're safe. I'm right here. His hands are scarred and calloused from years of fighting, but they're as gentle as his voice when he's holding me. His gaze is soft. He knows exactly how this feels. He knows grounding techniques. He guides me through breathing exercises. He has been through this same hell for decades. He knows. He gets it. He protects me when I'm awake and when I'm dreaming. I could not possibly be anywhere safer than in his arms

[astroniii]

GOOD GRACES

pairing: Lando Norris x Pop Star Reader

faceclaim: Isabela Merced

masterlist

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2021

2023

Liked by landonorris, sabrinacarpenter, oliviarodrigo, and 3,684,937 others

yourusername found a new muse 💋

user1 OMFG FINALLY!

user2 SHE TOOK A YEAR OFF, BUT MOTHER IS BACK TO BREAK RECORDS!

user3 OH SHE’S HERE TO SERVE

user4 I’M SO EXCITED!

user5 no cause FINALLY!

user6 PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE RELEASING MUSIC THIS YEAR!

user7 DON’T MAKE US WAIT ANOTHER YEAR FOR THIS RELEASE!

user8 A NEW MUSE? IS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GETTING A SISTER?

| user9 PLEASE BE ANOTHER GOOD GRACES

| user10 I WANT ANOTHER LOVE IS | EMBARRASSING!

user11 are we finally getting a love song from you!

| user12 OMG I NEVER REALIZED SHE HAS | NEVER WROTE A LOVE SONG! NOT EVEN ABOUT | TOM AND THEY WERE TOGETHER FOR 3 YEARS!

| user13 May not have gotten love songs | from her relationship with Tom, but we | did get please please please and good | graces

Liked by sabrinacarpenter, landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, oliviarodrigo, and 7,263,759 others

yourusername my new album “positions” is out next month! 💋 here is a preview to the album with my new song “bed chem”! Thank you guys for the wait and being patient with me for the last year! I hope you all like the song ❤️

user1 BED CHEM! BED CHEM!

user2 WE GOT A SEX SONG! 🥵

| user3 MORE LIKE A SEX FANTASY SONG!

user4 MAM! MAM! WHO IS THE SONG ABOUT!

user5 “Who's the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” itches my brain in just the right way!

user6 WHO DO WE KNOW THAT HAS AN ACCENT AND GREEN EYES!

sabrinacarpenter I can’t wait to hear the rest of the album 💕

user7 “COME RIGHT ON ME, I MEAN CAMARADERIE” WHO’S GOT YOU THIS HORNY! 👀

user8 “MANIFEST THAT YOU’RE OVERSIZED” MISS MAM! 😂

user9 YOU’VE BEEN HANGING OUT WITH @/sabrinacarpenter too much

| user10 NONSENSE AND BED CHEM ARE | SISTERS!

Liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, iambeckyg, and 9,236,682 others

yourusername POSITIONS IS OUT NOW! 💕

user1 WE FINALLY GOT LOVE SONGS FROM HER!

user2 SHE’S HORNY AND IN LOVE

user3 WHO IS THIS MYSTERY MAN THAT HAS YOU WRITING LOVE SONGS! 🕵️

user4 34+35 is the horniest song on the album 🥵

user5 OMG! WE GOT A SPANISH SONG!

user6 ALBUM OF THE YEAR!

user7 THE BOY IS MINE! LIKE BRANDY AND MONICA!

user8 THIS ALBUM IS PERFECTION! 🥰

user9 NO SKIPS ❤️

user10 NOT ONLY DID WE GET A LOVE SONG, BUT WE GOT MORE THAN ONE!

user11 THE QUEEN OF POP

user12 I’ll give you $5 if you tell me who these songs are about!

2024

yourusername posted a story

Liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, mclaren, alexandrasaintmleux, and 7,486,992 others

yourusername Thank you so much for @/mclaren for having me! 💕 Can’t wait to see the race tomorrow! 🏁

user1 OMG, SHE’S AT THE MIAMI GP!

user2 YOU’RE TELLING ME SHE WAS THERE TODAY AND I DIDN’T MEET HER! 😭

mclaren It was an honor having you! We can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!

user3 MCLAREN? I figured Red Bull or Ferrari would’ve invited her

oscarpiastri It was nice to finally meet you!

| yourusername It was nice meeting you | too! I can’t wait to see the race | tomorrow!

| user4 WHAT DO YOU MEAN FINALLY!

alexandrasaintmleux I can’t believe you were here and I didn’t get to see you!

| yourusername We can meet up tomorrow, | pretty girl!

user5 My two worlds are colliding 🤯

user6 THE PICTURES OF LANDO AND OSCAR

landonorris It was good having you today! I hope you’re ready for the race tomorrow!

| yourusername I was born ready! I better | see you on the podium tomorrow

Liked by yourusername, lnfour, and 3,126,026 others

landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

user1 LFG!

user2 CONGRATS! 👏

user3 YOU DESERVE IT LANDO! 🧡🏆

user4 WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THAT KISS! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!

user5 YOU’RE DATING @/yourusername! WHAT THE FUCK!

user6 THE WAY HE RAN TO HER AFTER GETTING OUT OF THE CAR! 😭

yourusername CONGRATULATIONS BABY! I KNEW YOU CAN DO IT! 🧡

user7 LANDO NOWINS WHO! 📢

yourusername I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!

Liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, sabrinacarpenter, alexandrasaintmleux, and 11,232,743 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername I guess the cat’s out of the bag 💕

user1 ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!

user2 WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK! THE HARD LAUNCH!

user3 YOU ARE TELLING ME POSITIONS IS ABOUT LANDO NORRIS!

user4 YOU ARE SO FUCKING CUTE TOGETHER 😭

user5 MOTHER IS IN LOVE ❤️

landonorris God, I love you so fucking much! 🧡

| yourusername I love you too, my race | winner 🧡

user6 SHE WROTE ALL THESE HORNY SONGS ABOUT HIM!

user7 ANOTHER WHITE MAN 😭

alexandrasaintmleux Does this mean I will see you around the paddock more often?

| yourusername of course! I can’t wait to | hang out with you more beautiful!

user8 @/landonorris DON’T FUCK IT UP! I NEED @/yourusername TO WRITE MORE LOVE SONGS!

user9 LANDO NORRIS IS THE CUTE GUY WITH GREEN EYES AND A THICK ACCENT!

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[luveline]

I love ur writing 💕 can I request something where reader is dense sortof/has low self esteem, so she likes hotch, admires him and would love to date him but can't imagine he would view her that way,, so he has to be really obvious with his advances? Not self indulgent at all 👉👈 no worries if not. Love u!

Hotch has to break the news that he’s been pursuing you. fem, 2k

Hotch would like to call you unassuming in the kindest way possible. Unassuming, in that not everyone who looks at you would find themselves immediately aware of your beauty (an old-fashioned way to put it, and true), because your poor self esteem leaves you shy. 

You don't believe anyone would want you. It doesn’t matter to Hotch beyond a weary heartbreak for you, as he doesn’t mind if it takes time to convince you. He only wishes you’d have more confidence. You’re pretty and you deserve to know it. 

“Hello,” he says, with intent to try again. 

You like him. He’s a grown man and a good judge of character, better of action, and he’d like to think that your sudden grimace whenever he speaks is again this cloud of insecurity rather than a true dislike for him. You have to warm up to him every day, but you do warm. 

“Hi, Hotch.” 

And listen, he’s not one to flirt at work, but if he ever wants a real shot with you, he has to be heavy-handed. “Hi,” he repeats, smiling, “how are things today?” 

You’re assistant office administrator for the BAU, and so Hotch isn’t technically your boss, but you do work beneath him. “Things are the same as always.” 

“Not too hard for you, then.” 

You catch his teasing, which is a new development. “Not too hard for me,” you say.

He doesn’t pretend he has reason to hang around. He thinks it might’ve contributed to you not believing he’s interested; he’d drop by with coffee because you seemed tired, or checked in on issues that didn’t need his supervision, and you’d taken every extra minute spent at your door as his attentiveness to his job, rather than an affection for you.

He stands with his hand on the doorway and just looks at you. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“You look beautiful today.” 

You touch the button at your neck. “It’s too much for work.” 

“No.” You’re wearing normal business casual clothing. You’ve pulled a necklace over your sweater, soft collar of a shirt kissing your throat. He imagines you’re wearing regular pants and flats or maybe a skirt and short heels beneath the desk, it doesn’t matter. “It’s not just what you’re wearing. You look pretty.” 

You could catch flame if something sparked near you. Lost, your lips part, and eventually you squeeze out a timid, “Thank you, Hotch.” 

 “Aaron.” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Can we get coffee?” He dislikes the panic in your eyes and regrets how casual he sounded. “Can I get you a coffee?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Well, maybe we can take lunch together?” 

“Have I done something?” 

“Have you?” he asks. 

He feels… young. Haley was the only woman he’d been with at a time, and casually there have been others now, but you’re the first woman he’s attempted to woo like this. He sometimes forgets that you’re shy and that he’s been married, distracted by his fizzing, almost joyful feelings for you. Flirting with you is a pleasure. 

You lick your lips quickly. “Where did you want to go? For lunch?” 

He was thinking you could bring your sandwich to his desk, but what you’re asking is a thousand times better. “Where do you want to go? Melanie’s?” he suggests. 

You breathe out in a strange laugh. “For lunch?” 

No, perhaps not. It’s rather fancy. “Somewhere nice, at least,” he says. 

“I don’t know where’s nice.” 

“Well, we can find somewhere. I’ll try to find somewhere before one, what do you think?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles. “Okay.” 

He’s pulling away from the doorway when you stand up from your rolling chair and say his name, a near yelp, “Hotch! Wait, uh, wait a second.” 

He immediately turns back. “What?” he asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“Are you sure I’m not in trouble for something?” you ask. To your credit, you give a bashful little laugh. “I feel like I’m walking into a trap.” 

“I have no intentions of trapping you anywhere.” 

“Please don’t fire me at Melanie’s.” 

He smiles at you again and leaves your alcove of the office to head back to his own. Around the desks and the bullpen where his team sit doing their paperwork, up the stairs to the landing. He pauses before he goes inside.

JJ’s standing behind Derek’s desk. They’re chatting, JJ sipping at a mug, a small smile on her lips. Spencer watches her from his own desk. He doesn’t like her anymore to Hotch’s knowledge, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling at her with that slight thread of lovelorn shyness when she asks him what he’s so busy doing. 

Hotch has a moment of clarity at his desk when he realises he needs to find somewhere perfect to take you come lunch time. You hadn’t seemed convinced of your job security when he’d left you, and he spends some time pondering how best to accommodate you as he sorts thought Quantico’s best cafes and restaurants. 

He has emails to answer, phone calls to take, and to make. Time moves quickly, and by 1:02 he’s all sorts of late. It’s almost 1:12PM when he’s again at your office door, a warm plastic bag against his side. 

You’re looking at your lap. Coat in your hands, lip nibbled raw, there’s an internal conversation happening that he’s not privy to. He doubts he’d like it very much —the agony of self-doubt is written plainly in your slouch. 

He knocks your door, feeling very sorry for your startled jump. “Hi. Sorry, I’m late, I know. But I thought I’d bring dinner to you.” 

He thought of it like this: if he were to take you to dinner, you could explain it away as a professional superior who was going to fire you and changed his mind, or a superior checking in on his employee, or a superior simply being kind. He has, on occasion, taken different members of his team or office out to discuss things in their lunch hours because he was busy and needed their time at a convenient hour. You might not think anything of it. 

Right now, Hotch really wants you to think something of it. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Is that okay with you, if we stay here?” 

It’s a little much for you, apparently. You finally tip into incredulity. “Aaron, is everything alright? I really don’t understand what’s going on.” 

“I’d like to eat lunch together.”

“But why?” 

“Because you’re good company.” He’s sat knee to knee with serial killers, and his next sentence is still scary, “Because I like you, and I’m not sure how else to show it.” 

You press your coat to your stomach, frowning. “You like me.” 

“I was under the impression that you liked me too,” he says, smiling despite you and himself. Hotch might be a drill sergeant and a bully all those terrible moody stations as a boss, but he’s also just a man, and there’s little room for stoicism in love. 

“But you…” 

He waits, but then feels too sorry for you to let you flounder. “Honey, I don’t know how else to put it. I’ve tried compliments, I brought you that plant,” —he points to the still blooming orchid on your window— “I ask you what your plans are every weekend.” He looks swiftly behind him. Alone, he edges into your office to close the door and allow some privacy. “And every weekend I ask you if you want to get a drink. I’d think you didn’t like me if it weren’t for your tell.” 

“What’s my tell?” 

Your hand. Whenever he’s around, you take something into your hand and squeeze at it or feel it like you’re going to explode with nerves. He saves you the explanation, and instead lays his most gentle look on you. “If I’m wrong, please let me know. I’d never want to put you in an uncomfortable position, but you’re lovely.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you say, semi-disbelieving. “You never do. I'm just confused.” 

“I’d really like to get to know you as more than a colleague.”

“You know me,” you mumble. 

He does. He knows what your favourite colour is, your favourite food, your soccer team. He sent you flowers on your birthday, asks after your sick neighbour, and checks your office light every night when he goes home, though he knows what time you leave each evening. And he knows that you’re scared to admit to liking him or anyone, because you worry you’re not allowed. 

“I do,” he agrees, giving the plastic bag a jostle. He doesn’t need big answers now. “Can I sit down?” 

You might not have a big answer to give, but your expression tells a story nonetheless. You wheel your seat backward and he pulls a spare chair toward your desk, your smile like an adornment as you push aside your things to make room. You smile so hard it changes your entire face. 

“Do you have napkins?” you ask, not so subtly breathless as he places the bag down and pushes the plastic back. 

He pulls out a wedge of them. You pinch them, and for a second the both of you hold them, your eyes meeting, your cheeks appled with matching smiles. 

“I thought the orchid was for secretary’s day,” you say quietly, taking the napkins. 

“You aren’t a secretary,” he says, holding out a plastic fork. 

When you go to grab it, he moves it up out of the way. Your startled laugh is beautiful. Totally stunning. He hadn’t realised how badly he’d wanted the quiet intimacy of teasing you over lunch until he had it. 

You grab the fork before he can move it again. “Too slow,” you say. 

“Oh, you think so?” he asks. 

“I know so, Aaron. Who has the fork?” 

Aaron, he thinks. Finally, Aaron. “You have the fork, but I have your lunch. I’d tread carefully if I were you.” 

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.”

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you��ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[jo-com]

୧ ‧₊˚ 💐⋅ ☆ ➛ You bagged that?

Lando Norris x Fem!Actressreader

Summary: Lando has seen everyone of your movies— from tv shows to random videos, he’s just so updated about you in everything it’s crazy, but what’s more crazy is him spreading that you guys are dating.

Genre: SMAU

Fc: Elle Fanning

Note: There are some grammatical errors to look out for!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ✉⋆˚｡ ⋆୨୧˚─ ───────

Liked by Landonorris and 3,901 others

No.1fFan_ Yn is an actual princess, i love her so much😍

Tagged; @Not_Yn

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Username1 SHE IS THE EPITOME OF ROYALTY 👸🏻

Username2 I love her movies sm🥹

Username3 BESTIE SAME!!

Username4 lando on likes??👀👀

Username5 uhm who?

Username6 some f1 driver whose been liking her for years

Username5 ohhh

Username7 he just likes every pic of hers ig🤷🏻‍♀️

Username8 I’VE SEEN HER IN PERSON, SHE’S SUPER NICE🥰

Landonorris Lucky😢😢

Username9 DHSHUSUWB LANDO😭

…

Liked by louispatridge_, Landonorris, Netflix and 2,378,901 others

Not_yn I have two sides😚

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Landonorris love all ur sides!

Carlossainz55 Dream on lover boy😝

Landonorris Fuck off

Username10 lmao them fighting in the comments r so iconic

Username11 y/n not even giving a damn😭

Username12 HER BEING SO ETHEREAL IS EVERYTHING

Landonorris I AGREE😫

Username13 not lando being her no.1 fan

Username14 stalker much??

Username15 girl stfu, u do the same

Annehathaway why is ur comment sec always chaotic

Not_yn even I don’t know😭

…

Landonorris just posted!

Liked by mclaren, and 12,378 others

Landonorris so pretty😍

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Username16 THE DELUSION😭

Username17 Y/n didn’t even like this

Username18 A+ for the confidence

Username19 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ON HOW PRETTY SHE LOOKS

Landonorris real😢

Charles_Leclerc Dude…

Carlossainz55 Man…

Georgerussell63 🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

Pierregasly Oh brother..

Username20 THEY HAVE MIXED FEELINGS😭

Username21 lmao the whole f1 attacking him

Username22 the whole gang came to shame him

Username23 yn being so unbothered😎

Username24 MY QUEEN FR🥰

…

➛ Messages

…

Liked by 4,679 others

WAG.updates ACTRESS Y/N L/N WERE SEEN KISSING THE KNOWN F1 DRIVER LANDO NORRIS— The couple have been spotted together a few times already.

Tagged; @Not_yn, @landonorris

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Username25 oh…

Username26 we owe him an apology

Username27 LANDO DESERVES AN APOLOGY FROM ALL😭

Username28 nobody believed the poor man

Landonorris WHAT’S UP NOW BITCHES

Landonorris and they call me crazy🙄

Maxverstappen u still are😑

Landonorris Yeah..crazy right that is🤪🤪

Username29 gaslighting myself that this isn’t true

Username30 Y/n isn’t even in the likes must be fake

Username31 GIRL PLS LANDO ALR COMMENTED

Username30 doesn’t prove anything

…

Liked by Landonorris, urbff, and 5,092,278 others

Not_yn wanted to soft launch but the jig is up

Tagged; @Landonorris

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Landonorris can finally say i love you without being judged😛

Not_yn my poor baby has been so much

Username32 NOOO MY HEART IS FOREVER BROKEN

Username33 welp good bye cruel world

Username34 they lowkey adorable ngl

Landonorris now u ship us🙄🙄

Username34 WE’RE SORRY😭

Charles_Leclerc we stand corrected

Carlossainz55 i know when to say sorry. Sorry

Username35 she’s so pretty💕💕

Landonorris the prettiest😁

Pierregasly aww lover boy

Landonorris fuck off

…

➛ Messages

…

Loved this!!

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating pt. 2 feat: zoro

♡ liked by ilovecottoncandychopper, S0U1K1NGBR00K and 6.5k others

_ynln: who are you where do you live how old are you why are you so fine how do you like your eggs cooked in the morning?

tagged: theroronoa.zoro

theroronoa.zoro: sorry i have a girlfriend

↳ _ynln: damn, not even one chance? 😔😔

↳ theroronoa.zoro: nah (liked by p1rateking_luffy)

sogekingg.usopp: is your boyfriend single (liked by p1rateking_luffy)

↳ _ynln: USOPP WTAF 😭

↳ _ynln: stop trying to steal my man, get your own bro

↳ sogeking.usopp: now i don't support homewrecking, but.. ☝️😋

↳ _ynln: BUT????

blackleg.sanji: PLEASE YN PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE 🧎🏼‍♂️🧎🏼‍♂️

↳ _ynln: no

lovenami: WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?!?

↳ lovenami: WE WERE MEANT TO MEET UP TWO HOURS AGO WHERE TF ARE YOU

↳ _ynln: SORRY NAMI IDK EITHER ZORO DRAGGED US SOMEWHERE AND WE GOT LOST 😭

♡ liked by FRAAANKY, trafalgar_d.law and 9.8k others

theroronoa.zoro: zoro. thousand sunny. 21. my gf invented me. like my eggs however yn likes them.

tagged: _ynln

jinbe: Very cute post (liked by nicorobin)

lovenami: anyone wanna jump off the ship w me?

↳ ace: yes 😁

blackleg.sanji: MY BEAUTIFUL GODDESS YN 💗💞💕💝❤️‍🔥

blackleg.sanji: I WILL DEDICATE MY LIFE TO YOU

_ynln: ZORO QWDHBIVEFBQOBJ

_ynln: i love u sm??

↳ theroronoa.zoro: apparently you don't cause why is there question marks

↳ _ynln: GEEZ OKAY I LOVE U 😭 (liked by theroronoa.zoro)

CAPTAIN.KIIIID: i hope y'all break up

↳ _ynln: DAMN KID WTF WHO HURT YOU

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, p1rateking_luffy and 10.3k others

_ynln: drinks on?

tagged: lovenami

lovenami: drinks were on that random guy at the club 😇😇

↳ blackleg.sanji: @theroronoa.zoro HOW DARE YOU NOT PROTECT THEM FROM CREEPS 🫵

↳ theroronoa.zoro: he was supplying all of us with drinks why would i chase the guy away

↳ lovenami: real, i wasn't gonna pay 400 berries for a pint 🥱

blackleg.sanji: THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMEN IN THE WORLD IN ONE PHOTO?? 😍😍😘

blackleg.sanji: what did i ever do to deserve this 😩😩‼️

S0U1K1NGBR00K: May I see your panties?

↳ _ynln: absolutely not thanks (liked by lovenami, theroronoa.zoro)

p1rateking_luffy: LAST NIGHT WAS SO FUN 😄😄

p1rateking_luffy: THANKS FOR BUYING ME FOOD 💗

↳ _ynln: luffy wait what i didn't buy you anything?

↳ _ynln: OMFG DID YOU JUST DINE AND DASH???

♡ liked by _ynln, nicorobin and 17 others

[close friends]

theroronoa.zoro: nice 👍

blackleg.sanji: I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS

blackleg.sanji: I AM SO JEALOUS

_ynln: best nap ever (liked by theroronoa.zoro)

p1rateking_luffy: I wanted to play tag but you guys were sleeping?

ilovecottoncandychopper: Yn looks like she gives good hugs! (liked by theroronoa.zoro)

↳ _ynln: CHOPPER GIVE ME HUGS ANYTIME ❣️❣️

sogeking.usopp: get this off my timeline right NOW 🫵

↳ _ynln: WHY ARE YOU GUYS SUCH HATERS 😭😭

[afterglowsainz]

crush | lando norris

summary: charles pr manager is always looking at lando while he’s being interviewed and fans think she has a crush on him

fc: lily-rose depp

a/n: who said fanfic about THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX WINNER

—

liked by charlesleclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and others

yourusername bahrein you’re always so kind🫶🏽

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username omg so beautiful!

username love the dress

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest girl of bahrein💕

yourusername that’s you!!🤍

username new crush unlocked

username pretty girls are tifosi confirmed (liked by yourusername)

charlesleclerc don’t smoke🙄

yourusername don’t tell me what to do🙄

charlesleclerc you tell me what to do all the time??🤨

yourusername that’s my job😡

liked by lissiemackintosh, landonorris and others

yourusername fun fun jeddah🍸

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username your vibes are immaculate !!!

username you’re so pretty i-😩

username all i see is the ultimate f1 it girl

charlesleclerc working hard or hardly working?

yourusername you do not want me to expose you charles leclerc

charlesleclerc 😳

username they’re so siblings coded😭

username manifesting this life 🕯🕯🕯

lissiemackintosh i’m seriously considering leaving marcus for you

yourusername what are you waiting for!

landonorris 😎

liked by charlesleclerc, carlossainz55 and others

f1gossippofficial lando norris and y/n y/l/n (charles leclerc’s pr manager) were seen partying together in japan after the race and were caught kissing outside the bar

tagged landonorris, yourusername

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username excuse me what

username what on earth is going on in the house of mclaren and ferrari

username this is such a random pairing😭

username OMG FINALLYYY

username the twitter girlies predicted this!!

username charles and carlos liking this is so unserious like😭😭

username how are the ln4 girlies feeling??

username okay but i just saw her ig and she is gorgeous

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and others

yourusername shanghai i have the biggest crush on you💘

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username so happy you enjoyed china🫶🏽

username the side profile my god😮‍💨

username lando norris i understand completely

alexandrasaintmleux so iconic of you🤍

username she’s not that pretty idk what all the fuss is about🤣

username girl go touch some grass

username how can you not say mother

landonorris only on shanghai?

yourusername 🙄

username BYE i love them already

liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc and others

landonorris broke my nose, won my first grand prix, celebrated with my one and only❤️ nice weekend overall

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maxverstappen1 congrats lando💪🏼

georgerussell63 congrats on the win🏆

username wow bro really hard launching like there’s no tomorrow

carlossainz55 congratulations landito, very well deserved😁

username damn man no one’s taking her from you

username im considering it

charlesleclerc very well done mate!!

charlesleclerc also yourusername if you break his heart i’ll fire you

yourusername ?????

yourusername why do you assume i’m the one breaking hearts?

charlesleclerc cause he’s in too deep now

landonorris no need to expose me like that mate

yourusername congratulations my love🧡

landonorris i love you my pretty❤️