#I’m not ready for this series to be over

[onceinablueberrymoon]

i spy | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: after their “chance” meeting a couple months prior, pregnant!reader befriended gi-hun, and the two began meeting up occasionally for lunch, much to the salesman’s dismay. but now that reader’s gained gi-hun’s trust, it’s the perfect opportunity to gain some intel. setting: a few months after season 1; please read part 1 and part 2 first for added context! word count: 1.7k warnings: pregnant!reader; deception (poor gi-hun); no use of y/n; second person POV notes: i love domestic salesman so much (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) he will remain alive in my heart lol. there’s at least three parts left to this series, culminating in season 2 events. the next one should be coming soon, so stay tuned! this part is a big one, with lots of fluff, as always. please enjoy! borders by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics-archive!

Sunlight filtered through the curtains of your bedroom. You cracked open your eyes. It was morning. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw your husband, still asleep. His expression was peaceful. ‘Good,’ you thought, ‘he needs it.’ He rarely got a good night’s sleep as he was regularly plagued by nightmares of his traumatic past. 

You sat up slowly, resting one hand on your back and the other on your large stomach. With the baby due in a few short weeks, you tried not to overexert yourself. Not that your husband would let you, anyway.

You picked up your phone from the nightstand and noted the time: 10:00 a.m. It’d been a long time since you slept in this late.

Most of your unread messages were spam, but one text caught your eye.

Message from Seong Gi-hun: Would you like to meet for lunch? I’ll be passing by your area today. 

You’d been rather proud of your connection with Gi-hun. Ever since you first met him at the Incheon Airport subway station, you’ve maintained a casual friendship. While he had never spoken a word about the Games, he often told you stories about his daughter and his friends. You suspected he was quite lonely and isolated, and he had yet to use much of his winnings. Even so, you had somehow become his friendly confidante. 

You put your phone to sleep and closed your eyes, leaning your head back on the bed’s headboard.

Your husband and you had agreed that you would need to start asking Gi-hun for information about the Games soon. Although you knew where Gi-hun was most of the time, you didn’t know what he was planning on doing if he found your husband. He seemed determined to interfere with the Games, but you weren’t sure how he would go about doing that. 

The goal was to learn more from Gi-hun, and you would begin executing your plan today.

You felt a shifting movement from beside you, and you looked down to see your husband cuddling into your side. When he couldn’t put his arm around your large bump, he wrapped it around your thigh. 

“Comfortable?” you chuckled. He nodded sleepily, pressing closer to you. You ran a hand through his fluffy, mussed-up hair. He lifted his head to softly kiss your belly. Your heart swelled – you loved him so much.

“While I would love to stay in bed and cuddle, I have to get ready. Gi-hun offered to meet me for lunch.” You gently unraveled yourself from your husband’s hold. This seemed to have woken him up more.

“I’ll send some guards to keep an eye on you.” He sat up, reaching over to his nightstand to make a call using the landline phone that was reserved for work.

You groaned, “I’ll be fine. Gi-hun wouldn’t dare touch me, not while I’m pregnant. And besides, I have a cover story. I’ll say I saw you playing ddakji with someone on the subway, but keep the details vague. Easy peasy.���

Your husband didn’t look convinced. 

“I’ll tell them not to wear their uniforms. They’ll be undercover.”

You let out a big sigh. You weren’t winning this one.

“Fine. But I’m not bailing them out if they get caught.”

“So I saw something odd the other day…” You said nonchalantly, taking a bite of your sandwich. Gi-hun seemed intrigued as he dug into his own sandwich.

“These two men were playing ddakji in the middle of the subway station.” Gi-hun froze, mid-bite. You continued, “Can you believe it? I thought ddakji was just some kid’s game, not something played by grown men.”

You ignored his bewildered expression. “And to make it even weirder, one man slapped the other after he lost!” Gi-hun looked at you with a thousand-yard stare. You cheered in your mind – you knew you had gotten to him.

“Gi-hun-ssi?” You questioned, blinking your eyes innocently. 

“...What station?” He whispered.

“I’m… I’m not sure. Maybe Yaksu? My mind’s been all over the place late-” 

Gi-hun cut you off. “Was he dressed as a businessman? Did you see where he went afterwards?”

You nodded, “He was in a grey suit. My train came while they were still playing.” You paused. This was the moment of truth. “What’s going on? Do you know him?”

Gi-hun took a deep breath. “You may not believe me, but that salesman… He works for an organization that kills people by forcing them to play children’s games for money.”

You snorted. “Children’s games? Like what, hide and seek?”

His expression hardened. “Exactly. But it isn’t just games. People died. I was there.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I won.” 

He proceeded to tell you everything. About the pink guards, the types of games he played, the frontman in charge… Nothing you didn’t already know, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“And that man you saw, the salesman… He recruits players by playing ddakji. If you win, he gives you 100,000 won and a card to join the games.”

You did your best to look skeptical. Really, it wasn’t hard since most people would think he was out of his mind by this point. 

But you gave him hope.

“I believe you, Gi-hun-ssi.” You turned to face him. His intense gaze softened. “If I see that man slapping people again, I’ll let you know.” 

Technically, you weren’t lying, since your husband didn’t slap you at home (unless you asked, of course). You had both agreed that slapping people’s faces was strictly a work thing.

Gi-hun’s hand lurched forward to grab yours, but his grip loosened out of fear of hurting you. 

“Promise me,” his voice shook, “promise me that you won’t approach him. Who knows what he’ll do… Especially in your condition.” Both your gazes wandered down to your swollen belly. 

“I would never endanger my baby.” You placed a protective hand over your stomach.

Gi-hun gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I recently called my former loaner and he’s agreed to assemble a team to search for the salesman.” He let his head drop into his hands. “We have to find this man before the next games start.”

“This loaner of yours… How do they plan on finding the salesman?” You asked cautiously.

Gi-hun lifted his head. “They plan on searching the subway stations from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. The salesman will surely be out recruiting people during that period.” He turned to you again. “I didn’t mean to bring you into all of this. If you see that salesman again though,” he looked at you, his eyes pleading, “call me immediately. I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

Again, you nodded, this time with more conviction.

The rest of your time together was silent for the most part, an uneasiness lingering in the air. All that mattered, though, was that you had fully gained Gi-hun’s trust. But how much longer would you be able to keep it?

Returning home from your lunch appointment, you open the front door to see your husband lounging on the sofa, his feet propped up on the low coffee table. Upon noticing your arrival, he closed the book he was reading and put it aside. 

“I’ve got some key information!” You sang, waving your arm to greet your husband. He smiled, standing up to meet you at the doorway. 

“What did my detective learn today?” He took your hand and led you to sit on the sofa. He helped you put your legs up, then sat near your feet and began massaging them. 

“Lots. For one, Gi-hun calls you ‘the salesman’. Funny, isn’t it? You’re not selling anything, but with your devilishly good looks, I’d buy anything from you.” He chuckled at your comment. 

“He also said that he hired his former loan shark.” You let out a giggle. “His loan shark! The guy that Gi-hun signed his physical rights away to! I couldn’t believe my ears.” You continued, “Anyway, the loan shark and his team will be searching the subway stations for you.” You grimaced. “It’ll interfere with your schedule. They start at 10 a.m. and go until 10 p.m.” 

Your husband let out a heavy sigh and pinched his nose. “So, the entire day.” 

You nodded. “I can find more prospects aboveground. Parks, markets… There must be some in the suburbs too.” 

He seemed lost in thought as he continued rubbing the soles of your feet.

“Another thing… Gi-hun told me to promise I’d call him if I saw you again.” Your husband looked at you and quirked an eyebrow. You took your phone out of your bag on the coffee table. “Since I found you, should I let him know..?” You teased, your phone dangling loosely from your hand. 

“Oh?” Your husband smirked. “If you did,” he moved his hands up your legs to massage your thighs, “What would you say?”

You shuddered when he massaged a particular spot on your thigh. 

“I’d say… ‘Wow, that salesman is incredibly handsome.’” Your husband chuckled. You laughed, “Then, to really rile him up, I might say, ‘Maybe I will play a game with him after all.’” You cocked your head, a mischievous smile on your face. “Or do you think that’d give him a heart attack?”

Your husband laughed. He moved his hands back down to massage your ankles.

The conversation flowed between the two of you for over an hour, when your husband finally tired of massaging your aching body. He escorted you to your bedroom, where you immediately demanded that you resume your cuddling session from earlier that morning.

As you snuggled into him, you sighed. “I’m going to miss this.”

He nodded, one hand drawing circles on your belly. Just then, you both felt the baby kick. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a kick nevertheless.

“Well, maybe I won’t miss that.” 

Your husband’s repetitive circles were making you sleepy. But before you fell asleep, you heard him murmur, “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

As much as you also wanted everything to stay the same, you knew things were about to change. In your career, in your family, in your friendships… The next chapter of your life would soon begin, and boy, were you in for a ride.

[satellite-evans]

right where you left me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex girlfriend!reader

Summary: You're still where Max left you.

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is the first fic that I’m posting for the folkmore series, I am so excited!!! Can’t wait to hear what you guys think <3

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The restaurant still smells the same. The warm scent of buttered bread, the faint tang of expensive wine in the air, the subtle undertone of aged wood and candle wax melting into soft pools of gold. It’s been months—years, maybe—since the night Max walked out, yet the place feels untouched, frozen in time. Just like you.

You sit at the same table, your fingers brushing against the linen napkin, tracing invisible patterns on the surface. The same table where his laughter once curled in the air, where his hands would have reached for yours without thinking. Your glass of water remains half-full, just as it was that night. Untouched. Forgotten. A relic of a moment that still lingers in the corners of your mind like an echo you can’t quite silence.

The candlelight flickers, its glow catching the delicate ring you still wear on your right hand—the one he gave you as a promise before he decided promises were too heavy to keep. You twist it absentmindedly, the metal cool against your skin, a contrast to the warmth of memory.

Outside, the city hums with life. Cars glide past, their headlights flashing like distant stars. The murmur of strangers, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter—all of it moves forward, untethered to the past. But here, at this table, in this restaurant where time seems to hold its breath, you sit in the hollow space he left behind.

And for the first time in a long while, you wonder if he ever comes here, too. If he ever stops just outside the door, hand hesitating on the handle, breathing in the familiar scent and remembering. Or if, like the promises he made, he’s let it all go.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waiter’s voice pulls you from your trance, gently but firmly, like a hand on your shoulder bringing you back to the present. You blink, your gaze shifting from the flickering candlelight to the young man standing beside your table, his notepad poised, his expression polite but unreadable.

You only shake your head, offering a tight smile. “Not yet,” you murmur, though you already know the answer.

He doesn’t question it. He never does. Maybe by now, he recognizes you—not just as another customer, but as a fixture of this place. The girl who always sits alone. The girl who never changes her order. The girl who lingers too long over a half-full glass of water, as if she’s waiting for it to fill itself. The girl who still waits for someone who isn’t coming back.

Does he wonder? Does he piece together the story in his mind, constructing quiet theories about why you return to the same spot, why your fingers still play absentmindedly with a ring that should’ve lost its meaning by now? Is he used to people like you—the ones who haunt old memories like ghosts who refuse to be laid to rest?

Or does he just think that you’re a girl frozen in time, that time went on for everyone else but that you wouldn’t know?

A girl that just can’t move on.

He nods, stepping away without another word, leaving you alone once more. Alone with the past. Alone with the quiet hum of the restaurant around you, the soft clatter of silverware, the muted conversations that blur together into white noise.

You exhale, glancing toward the empty chair across from you. It remains untouched, just as it was that night. Just as it has been every night since.

You wonder if Max ever thinks about this place. If he ever remembers the way your fingers used to trace lazy patterns over his knuckles while he rambled about race strategy, his voice animated, his eyes alight with passion. If he recalls how you’d bite your lip to keep from laughing when he confidently—yet disastrously—mispronounced the names of the wines on the menu, only to scowl at you in mock offense when you corrected him. If he ever sits in a quiet moment, caught off guard by a passing scent or a familiar song playing in the background, and suddenly, inexplicably, thinks of you.

If he feels even the slightest pang of nostalgia when he hears your name.

If he even knows that you come to this restaurant, even though you felt the most heart crushing pain here.

That he left you no choice but to stay here forever.

Or if he’s forgotten all of it. All of you.

You hadn’t meant to check, but old habits die hard. One second, your mind was wandering, and the next, your fingers were already scrolling, moving with a muscle memory you wished you didn’t have. Before your brain could stop them. Before your heart could brace itself.

And suddenly, there it was, a picture trending on Twitter.

Max Verstappen & Kelly Piquet expecting their first child together!

The words seem to blur for a moment, your vision tunneling, breath catching somewhere in your throat. And then, below the headline, a photo.

You wanted to say that it was irony or even faith that you found out that he was expecting a baby with another woman in the same restaurant where he would whispered sweet words about how he wanted to be father to your children so badly, but you don’t believe in faith anymore. This restaurant was just destined to haunt you forever.

At least he looks happy.

Happier than you remember. Happier than he ever was with you.

Your grip tightens on your phone, but your body remains still, frozen in place. The sounds of the restaurant fade into static, the clinking glasses and quiet laughter around you suddenly feeling like background noise to a scene you no longer belong in.

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together as you force yourself to look away from the screen, as if that might erase the image from your mind. As if that might make it hurt less.

But it doesn’t.

The ring on your finger feels heavier. It presses into your skin like an anchor, pulling you back to a past you can’t escape, a past you’re still tethered to. You blink rapidly at the screen, hoping, praying, that the words will change. That maybe this is some cruel joke, some mistake, but they don’t. The image doesn’t blur. It’s real. It’s him.

Another picture.

Christmas. They’re spending it together.

A perfect family. The kind you used to imagine when you’d sit together, planning for the future, talking about how one day, maybe, you’d have a house full of children and laughter.

The cruelest part is how ordinary it all looks. A picture-perfect moment, the kind you once dreamed of having with him, now shared with someone else. A life you are no longer a part of.

It’s funny, really. How time moves forward for everyone but you. How the world shifts, the seasons change, new memories replace the old ones. Love finds new homes. But you? You’re still here, frozen in place, gathering dust like an abandoned photograph tucked away in a forgotten drawer, one that’s too painful to even look at anymore.

You can’t help yourself but eread the headline over and over again and look at the pictures of them spending Christmas together, as if the repetition might somehow make it easier to swallow. Your heart clenches, a familiar ache spreading through your chest. The kind of ache that never really goes away. The kind of ache that lingers, festers, and refuses to fade no matter how much time passes.

You want to scream, to throw your phone across the room, to erase the image, the words, the entire situation from existence. But you don’t. You sit still, paralyzed, watching the truth unfold in front of you, as if you’re witnessing something that’s no longer your story but someone else’s.

And maybe it is. Maybe it always was.

You think about the night he told you. The memory lingers, every detail sharp as if it just happened yesterday. The dim candlelight flickered between you, casting warm, uneven shadows on the table, making his eyes look darker than usual. Your hair was pinned up, just the way he liked it, because all you wanted was to be enough for him, to be loved and cherished by him just the way you loved him. You remember the way he fidgeted with the water glass in his hands, the way his fingers trembled slightly, betraying the calmness his voice tried to convey. He didn’t even drink from it, just held it there like it was something to anchor him. And you? You could feel it before he even spoke. The knot in your stomach, tight and twisting, the way your heart seemed to freeze in place, like it already knew what was coming before your brain would allow it to acknowledge the truth.

"I met someone."

The words barely make sense. They hang in the air between you, impossible to grasp. For a moment, it feels like the world tilts on its axis, like reality itself has cracked and this is some sort of cruel dream you’ll wake up from.

You almost laugh, bitter and disbelieving, because it doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound like Max. Not the Max who once whispered forever into your hair, promising you a future where nothing could tear you apart. Not the Max who swore he couldn’t imagine a life without you, who said your names together like they belonged in the same sentence, forever linked. But the words still come, and somehow, despite everything, they are his.

The restaurant around you starts to fade away, the sounds dulling to a distant hum, muffled like you’re underwater, as if the world is pulling away from you, inch by inch. Your heart races, but your body feels oddly disconnected from it all, like you're watching someone else’s life unfold before you, helpless to stop it. You take a shallow breath, but it doesn’t reach the depths of your chest, and the weight of the moment settles in there like a stone you can’t dislodge.

"What?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips, a fragile whisper, so quiet that for a second you think he won’t even hear you. But he does.

His gaze drops to the table, his eyes avoiding yours, as if he can’t bear to see you crumble, as if he’s already sorry for what he knows he’s about to do. His voice is quieter now, almost too soft to catch. "I didn’t mean for it to happen."

You shake your head, disbelief clouding your thoughts. Your hands curl into fists in your lap, nails digging painfully into your palms, trying to hold on to something, anything. The ring on your finger suddenly feels like it’s choking the life out of you. "But it did."

The words escape from your throat like shards of glass, sharp and cold, biting as they land between you. He swallows hard, and you wonder if he’s doing it to hold back tears, or if it’s just the weight of what he’s about to say.

“She has a daughter,” he adds, his voice thick, but the words hit you like a slap, sharp and unforgiving. You feel your mascara run as your eyes sting with the hot, unfamiliar ache of betrayal. But you don’t wipe the tears away. You don’t move. You just sit there, paralyzed, staring at him, waiting for him to say something—anything—that could take it all back. That could prove this isn’t real. That could remind you of the love you thought was enough.

“She’s not mine,” he continues, his voice wavering, like he’s trying to make it sound better, like he’s trying to convince you this is somehow okay. “But I love her like she is.”

The words hang in the air, thick and suffocating. A sudden, cold numbness spreads across your chest, a pain that feels both sharp and hollow. The space between you and him stretches, filling with the things he can’t say.

“And her mother?” You force the words out, each one heavier than the last.

His silence is loud enough to drown out everything else—the clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations from nearby tables, the soft jazz music playing in the background. Everything around you fades into the background until all that’s left is him and you, caught in the unbearable weight of what he won’t say.

When he finally speaks again, his voice barely rises above a whisper, like he’s afraid of the truth. “I love her too.”

And just like that, it’s over. The last thread of hope you had been clinging to snaps, leaving you floating in a place where nothing makes sense anymore. The ring on your finger burns, searing into your skin, but you don’t take it off. Not yet. You can’t. Because somehow, it’s the only thing left of him, of the person you thought you knew, of the future that is no longer yours.

You know where he is now. He’s winning. He’s thriving. The world sees him on podiums, champagne in hand, his new life already unfolding in the bright lights. He’s standing beside someone else now, someone who doesn’t carry the weight of the past, someone who fills the space you left behind with ease. The world loves him, adores him. And you? You’re still at the restaurant, in the ruins of what he left behind, trapped in a love story that never got its happy ending, a story that no longer belongs to you.

You press your phone to your chest, as if it could somehow stop the ache from spreading. As if holding onto the past will make the present hurt less. But it doesn’t. The weight of the truth is suffocating, a heavy fog that settles over your heart, and you realize, with painful clarity, that you were never meant to be a part of his forever. You were never meant to last.

The whispers around you grow louder, piercing through the fog of your thoughts, and it doesn’t take much to understand why. You hear his name before you see him, and when you finally do, it feels like the ground beneath you tilts ever so slightly.

Max.

He looks different—sharper, somehow. More defined, more polished by the world that shaped him after you. His eyes sweep over the restaurant, and you wonder if they’ll stop on you, if he’ll look at you and see something from the past, something worth acknowledging. But no.

He’s here’s. At the restaurant. With her.

He really brought her here.

Kelly is beside him, her laughter effortless, untouched by the weight of history, the burden of old wounds. She leans into him, her hand resting gently on her stomach, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at him with the kind of love you used to think was meant for you. She doesn’t know what it’s like to sit in this seat, to watch someone walk away, to feel the years stretch endlessly before you as you wonder if they ever think about you.

Max’s gaze flicks across the room, and for just a split second, it lands on you. It’s so brief that you almost convince yourself it didn’t happen. But it did. His steps falter for a fraction of a second, his fingers tightening around Kelly’s hand before he looks away, as if something inside him is trying to hold onto a memory that’s already slipping through his fingers.

And that’s it. No smile. No apology. No acknowledgment. Just a glance, a flash of something unspoken, and then—nothing.

You knew that he didn’t care about you but, facing with that reality hurt you more than you thought. Here you were, coming to the same place a man hurt you because you loved him so much, only for the same man to come too because he didn’t love you at all.

What a shame.

Maybe it is true. Maybe you really are unawarely frozen in time. Maybe that would explain why you still feel the same pain now as on the day he left you.

You swallow hard, blinking away the burning in your eyes. The candle on the table flickers, casting long shadows that seem to stretch endlessly across the walls. The world outside moves forward, time marching on relentlessly, but you remain frozen in place, clutching onto the past like it’s the only thing that hasn’t slipped away.

The moment passes, and Max moves on, just like he always does.

But you? You’re still right where he left you.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week 😅 I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ worst logan - imperfect for you

chapter summary: You and Laura find yourselves in the void. A few months later, Wade—who claims to be from your universe, and a different Logan appear with a way out.

word count: 17.3k+ (31k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: alright! this is the second part, the first part was the logan movie, and while i recommend you read it, you don't necessarily have to.

most of this actually takes place after 'deadpool and wolverine.' surprisingly, i found this logan to be the hardest to write for, so i apologize if people think his character is wrong, i tried my best😭

also this is split in two parts! it's too long for tumblr to fit in one post!

(also, i know that it's 10 pm est, but i felt like i had to put this out now after watching lady gaga and bruno mars' performance at the grammy's)

warnings/tags: canon to 'deadpool and wolverine', black widow!reader, worst!logan, laura calls reader mom, violence, heavy angst, detached!reader, loverboy!logan, slow burn, fluff, wade wilson interruption, happy ending, not proofread

series masterlist - part 1 → part 2.5

“Laura!” You called out, your voice bouncing off the walls of the house. “Lau—”

“I’m here! I’m here.” Laura said, walking away from the staircase and to the front door where you stood.

You put your hands on your hips, “you know, you can try to skip school again, but I will find out. Like I always do.”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting her backpack, “yeah, you’re all-knowing Mom. Can we just go? I promise I won’t skip school again.” Laura walked past you, “even if it was just last period.” She muttered.

You leaned over her shoulder, “wanna say that again?” You asked with a smirk, as she sighed and shook her head before opening the door.

At least 5 people in black suits with orange accents. “Y/N Howlett? Laura Keen?”

Your hand reached behind your back for your hidden dagger as Laura clenched her fists, claws ready to come out.

“Yes?” You asked hesitantly.

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline.” The man without a helmet said, “hands up.”

Both you and Laura moved at the same time, with you throwing your dagger into the chest of one of the men and Laura stabbing one of them with her claws. Before you could do much more, someone from behind grabbed you, pulling you backwards through an orange door, another man doing the same with Laura.

Immediately you were both in another place, it almost looked like a retro, but futuristic, office space. Laura growled at the man holding her, but his grip on her was surprisingly tight.

“You punched a hole in the timeline after that stunt. Now, you have to be terminated.” A woman said to you, as you tilted your head.

“Come again? Hole—timeline—what?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at you, “you gave your husband back his memories and caused a large anomaly, spreading you throughout the timeline.”

“You’re making no fucking sense. You can’t just take me and my daughter away from—”

The woman looked at one of the men who brought you and Laura here, “this is the one from Earth-100006, right?”

The man looked down at his small tablet then back up at the woman. “…No. They’re from Earth-100005.”

She sighed, waving her hand. “Terminate them.”

“What?” You growled, taking one step forward before a baton touched you, making you disappear.

“Mom!” Laura yelled. “What did you do to—” The baton touched Laura, making her disappear as well.

---

When you woke up, you were lying on sand, the sun beating heavily down on you. Every inch of your body felt heavy, and a searing pain radiated from where the baton had touched you. Blinking against the sunlight, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, sand clinging to your palms.

“Mom!” Laura’s voice snapped you out of the haze. She was stumbling toward you, her backpack missing, her hair wild from whatever had just happened. Relief coursed through you when you saw she was unharmed.

“I’m here,” you rasped, your throat dry as dust. You reached for her as she dropped to her knees beside you.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger. “Where are we? Where did they send us?”

You looked around, trying to get your bearings. The landscape was barren, a wasteland of jagged rocks, broken remnants of buildings, and endless dunes of sand stretching into the horizon. The sky above was gray and swirling, like the calm before a storm. In the distance, you could make out twisted shapes—structures or machines—but nothing alive.

“Not sure,” you said, pulling Laura closer for a moment, “but it’s not home.”

Laura’s claws slid out instinctively as she scanned the area. “This place… it feels wrong.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You pushed yourself to your feet, testing your weight against the burning ache in your muscles. You checked your back for your dagger, but it was gone. “First thing’s first: we need to figure out where we are, what those bastards did to us, and how to get out.”

Laura nodded, her fists tightening. “If they hurt you, I’ll kill them.”

You smirked despite everything. “You’d better get in line, kiddo.”

Before either of you could say more, the faint hum of engines reached your ears. You turned sharply, squinting against the haze, and saw figures approaching in the distance.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling Laura behind you as the shapes grew clearer. There were three vehicles—ramshackle but armored—kicking up dust as they sped toward you. They screeched to a halt a few yards away, and several people jumped out, armed to the teeth.

“Don’t move,” one of them barked, pointing a rifle at you. He was tall, bald, and scarred, his pale eyes scanning you with a mix of suspicion and recognition.

Laura growled, her claws sliding out.

“Easy,” you murmured to her, raising your hands slightly. “We don’t want to start a fight we can’t finish.”

“Y/N Howlett,” a woman’s voice said from behind the group. She stepped forward, her piercing gaze cutting through you. Her presence was commanding, and her bald head and strange demeanor set her apart from the rest. “And Laura Keen. Interesting. We’ve been expecting you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not creepy at all. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Cassandra Nova,” the woman replied coolly. “And you’re in the Void. Welcome.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the warm reception,” you shot back. “Now tell me what you want before I lose my patience.”

Cassandra tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Fiery. I see why he loved you.”

Your chest tightened. Even though she didn’t say his name, the context was clear enough. “Don’t.”

“Oh, but I will,” she said, stepping closer. “You’ve lived so many lives, Y/N, and yet, every time, he’s there. Do you even know why?”

“Lady, I don’t have time for your cryptic bullshit.”

“Patience,” Cassandra said, raising a hand. “I don’t need to waste time with questions when I can just take the answers.” Her eyes began to glow faintly as she focused on you.

The sensation hit like a wave—cold, invasive, and sharp, as if someone were clawing through your mind. But as quickly as it started, Cassandra reeled back, her expression twisting in confusion.

“You…” she whispered, narrowing her eyes. “Why can’t I get in? What are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you shot back, forcing yourself to stand tall despite the pounding in your head. “You try that again, and I’ll show you exactly what I am.”

Cassandra’s lips thinned, but before she could respond, Laura lunged forward without warning, her claws flashing as she aimed straight for Cassandra’s throat. But before she could make contact, one of the armored figures moved in, grabbing Laura by the arm and throwing her back. Laura landed with a grunt, but she was back on her feet in seconds, ready to charge again.

“You’re wasting your time,” Cassandra said, her voice cold. “Surrender, or this gets much worse for you both.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, your grip tightening on your dagger.

Before the situation could escalate further, a deafening boom echoed from behind Cassandra’s group. Everyone turned just in time to see a massive fireball hurtling toward them. It slammed into the sand, sending a shockwave through the ground and knocking several of the armored soldiers off their feet.

“What the—” Laura started, but another explosion cut her off, this time from the opposite side.

Two figures appeared over the dune, running at full speed. One was a man engulfed in flames, flying just above the ground, while the other was heavily armed, his face hidden behind a tactical mask. The flaming man shot another fireball at the soldiers, while the masked figure opened fire with a barrage of bullets, cutting down two of the soldiers before they even had a chance to react.

“What the hell is going on?” Laura shouted, glancing at you.

“No idea,” you muttered, watching as the battle unfolded in a blur of fire and gunfire.

The flaming man soared over Cassandra’s head, sending another blast of fire in her direction. She dodged it easily, her eyes narrowing in anger. “Kill them!” she ordered her remaining soldiers, but they were already being overwhelmed.

The masked figure moved with deadly precision, taking down soldiers left and right with well-aimed shots. He was fast—too fast for them to keep up.

The fight was chaotic, but in the middle of it all, Cassandra’s gaze locked onto you again. “This isn’t over,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. Then, without warning, she disappeared in a flash of light, taking the remaining soldiers with her.

You and Laura stood there, breathless and confused, as the battle ended as quickly as it began. The flaming man and the masked figure approached cautiously, their weapons still at the ready.

Laura’s claws were still out, her stance tense. “Who the hell are you?”

The flaming man extinguished the fire surrounding him, revealing a young, blonde man with a cocky smirk. “Name’s Johnny Storm. And I think we just saved your asses.”

The masked figure stepped forward, removing his helmet to reveal the grizzled face of a man you didn’t recognize. “And I’m the Punisher. You’re welcome.”

---

“So, you were all sent here. For ‘not playing nice,’” you said, crossing your arms and scanning the group. Johnny leaned casually against the wall, the cocky smirk never leaving his face. Frank Castle, aka the Punisher, stood nearby, stoic as ever, his arms crossed like a living wall. The new trio—Elektra, Blade, and a man Johnny had called Remy—watched you with varying degrees of suspicion.

Elektra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s putting it lightly,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. The twin sais strapped to her thighs gleamed in the low light. “Apparently, stabbing the wrong guy gets you sent here.”

Blade snorted. “Wrong guy was a senator.”

Elektra’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “He deserved it.”

“Not the point,” Blade muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was built like a tank, his presence commanding even in silence.

Remy, with his disheveled brown hair and glowing red eyes, let out a low whistle. “Look like we got new recruits,” he said, his Cajun accent thick. “You gonna play nice, chére, or you gonna cause trouble?”

Laura’s claws slid out with a snikt, her glare cutting through the room. “Try me.”

You stepped in front of her, placing a hand on her arm. “Laura. Not the time.”

Remy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy now, petite. Jus’ makin’ conversation.”

Johnny laughed. “Gambit’s harmless—well, unless he’s got cards in his hands.”

“You got a point?” you asked, turning to Johnny, your patience wearing thin. “Or do you just like hearing yourself talk?”

“Both,” Frank said gruffly, finally speaking up. His voice was deep and gravelly, and his expression made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for games. “But Johnny’s right about one thing—we’re all here because the TVA didn’t like what we did. Same with you and the kid.”

You sighed, glancing at Laura. Her fists were still clenched, claws out, but she hadn’t made another move. “Fine. We’re all rebels. What’s the plan?”

Elektra’s smile turned sharp. “Plan? There’s no plan. We survive.”

“Survive what?” Laura asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

Johnny leaned forward, his smirk fading. “The Void ain’t exactly Club Med, sweetheart. There are worse things out there than us.”

“Like what?” you asked.

Blade stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Alioth.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alioth?”

“A predator,” Blade said simply. “Consumes anything it touches.”

“Big purple smoke monster,” Johnny clarified, his hands miming an explosion. “Real nasty. You see it, you run.”

Laura scoffed. “We don’t run.”

“Then you die,” Frank said bluntly. “We’ve seen it happen.”

Elektra stepped forward, her gaze fixed on you. “This place isn’t just a dumping ground. It’s a death sentence. The TVA sends people here to get rid of them permanently. If you’re smart, you’ll stick with us. We know how to stay off the radar.”

“Why would you help us?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “You don’t know us.”

Remy grinned. “Maybe we jus’ like company.”

“Or maybe we want to see what you’re made of,” Elektra added, her voice edged with challenge.

Before you could respond, a loud crash echoed from outside the bunker. Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward the door. Johnny’s hand ignited in flames, and Blade unsheathed his sword.

“Alioth?” you asked, your voice low.

“No,” Frank said, moving toward the door. “Too small. But it’s not friendly.”

Laura moved to your side, her claws ready. “Let’s find out.”

Elektra smirked. “I like her.”

Johnny opened the door cautiously, flames crackling in his palm. The rest of you followed, weapons at the ready. The landscape outside was as bleak as ever, the gray sky swirling ominously.

“Over there,” Blade said, pointing to a figure stumbling over the sand. It was humanoid but moved awkwardly, like it wasn’t fully in control of its body.

“TVA tech,” Frank muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle. “Looks like one of their enforcers.”

“Not anymore,” Elektra said, her eyes narrowing. “It’s corrupted.”

The figure turned toward you, its eyes glowing an unnatural green. Its body twitched violently before letting out an unearthly screech. Without warning, it charged.

“Move!” you shouted, grabbing Laura and pulling her back as Johnny hurled a fireball at the creature. The blast knocked it back, but it kept coming, its movements erratic and unnatural.

Blade stepped forward, his sword gleaming. With a swift, calculated strike, he severed the creature’s head. It crumpled to the ground, twitching before going still.

“What the hell was that?” Laura asked, her claws still out.

“TVA cleanup crew,” Frank said, kicking the remains. “Sometimes their tech gets left behind and... mutates.”

“Mutates into what? Zombies?” you asked.

“Close enough,” Johnny said, extinguishing the flames on his hand. “That’s why we don’t go wandering around unless we have to.”

Elektra looked at you and Laura, her expression unreadable. “Still think you can handle this place?”

You met her gaze evenly. “We don’t have a choice.”

---

It had been months since you and Laura entered the void. Frank had died a few days after you and Laura arrived, presumably by Alioth or what they call the ’Deadpool Corps’.

Since Johnny had left a few days ago and hadn’t returned, you and Laura decided to go out and look. There wasn’t any clues or leads until Laura came upon a Honda Odyssey with two men inside it. One in a red suit, tied up with seatbelts, and the other in a yellow suit with the same face as her own father.

She knew it wasn’t him, that he wasn’t their Logan, but it seemed like this was her only lead. She got into bloodied and wrecked car and drove it to base.

---

Wade finally woke up, sitting up on the bed, “where are we?”

“No clue,” Logan held up a whiskey bottle he was drinking from, “but I like it here.”

Rumbling came from outside the place they were in. Wade went to the entrance standing by it’s side when a woman came in and used her sai to knock Wade down.

Behind her a man entered, wearing black sunglasses, and after that was another man, holding a stack of playing cards.

“Okay, look at you… all. You must be the others. Terrific. So just to refresh, you are one- ”

“Elektra.” She said.

“Elektra, yes. Who could forget? And you, I was not expecting to see you here, thought you were… you know, retired.” Wade said in an accent.

“Retarted?”

“Retired.” Wade said again. “I’m already in the void. I’m not trying to get cancelled again.”

 Blade, or Eric, pointed his blade at Wade, “I don’t like you.”

“You never did.” Wade turned to the other man, “and who’s this succulent reminder of my own inadequacies? Look at you. You look like the superhero version of Hawkeye.”

“The name’s Remy LeBeau. Le Diable Blanc, but you can call me the Gambit.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sling Blade hit me again.” Wade asked.

“They call me the Gambit.” Remy said again.

“Do they? Are you sure you didn’t just really, really want them to, but it never quite worked out?”

Remy turned his gaze from Wade to Logan in the back, “you know, we never had a Wolverine up in here. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.”

“It’s a good think I don’t give a fuck.” Logan shot back. He went to take another drink from the bottle when Remy tossed a playing card, breaking the bottle in half, glass shattering to the floor.

Wade stood up and looked between Remy and Logan, before settling his gaze on the latter, who tossed the top half of the bottle on the ground. “So embarrassing.”

Logan grabbed another bottle from the shelf.

“Well, now that that’s settled, look, we came a long way to find you three.”

“There’s five of us.” Elektra corrected.

“There’s five? Is one of them Magneto? Dear sweet God in heaven, let it be Magneto, because with him- ”

“He’s dead.” Blade cut in.

“Fuck!” Wade yelled, “now Disney gets cheap? It’s like Pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.”

“Ooh, you nasty! Mon petit rouge. Laissez les bons temps rouler, huh?” Remy said.

“Not a single word, what do you do exactly?” Wade questioned.

“Charge the playing cards. Make ‘em go boom.”

“Your power is close-up magic, that’s good. We’re not totally fucked at all. So, who brought us here?”

“That would be me.” Laura said, as she walked down the stairs into the room. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Holy shit. Logan. That’s her. That’s X-23. She’s the one I told you about.”

Laura looked at Logan, younger than the one she met years ago. Part of her wondered if this is how he looked before it all went to shit.

Wade looked to the others, “hey, how did you all get stuck in the void?”

“There was a knock at the door, TVA sent me here.” Blade said.

“Me too.” Elektra added.

“Maybe I was born here. It’s- it’s hard to know for sure.” Remy answered.

“TVA decided our universe was dying. And I never even got a chance to fight for it.” Blade continued.

Laura walked close to the wall, watching Logan continue to drink from the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

“People like us don’t go quietly. TVA knows that, so they took us out.” Elektra said.

Wade kissed his gloved fingers and pointed it towards them, “the answer is yes. I’m in.”

“In what?” Blade questioned.

“A team. Me, you, you and me. All of us together. Let’s get the fuck out of this place.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a fucking liar!” Logan called out.

“It was an educated wish!” Wade yelled back. Logan scoffed at him as Wade continued, “Look. We’ve been inside Cassandra’s lair. The only way out of the void is through her. She can get us home. She told us.”

“Wait a minute, you’ve been inside? And you made it out alive?” Blade asked.

“Bullshit.” Elektra commented, “nobody’s ever done that.”

“We did.” Wade answered.

“Every time one of us has gone up against her, they die. The Punisher, the Quicksilver, the Daredevil.” Remy started.

“Daredevil, I’m so sorry.” Wade looked at Elektra.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“Even that sweet, baby angel, Johnny Storm. He up and gone missing like, what, two days ago?” Remy said.

“Ah, that’s so sad. Wherever this Johnny feller is, I’m sure he’s thriving. Look, there’s strength in numbers. All right? Us, plus you guys. We can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of the void. I know what it means to feel self-doubt.”

“I don’t feel that at all.” Elektra looked over at Blade.

“I’m good.” He said.

“Now, I get your gut like a coke duct tape worm.” Wade continued.

“It’s like you’re in the middle of my soul.” Remy said.

“You guys may not have been able to save your universes, but you can avenge them. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.”

“Wait. You knew Johnny?” Elektra asked.

Before Logan could respond, you walked into the room, passing by Remy. “Yeah, he’s the reason Johnny is fucking dead.”

“Ah, ah. I’ll have you know that Cassandra killed him, not me. He was the one who ran his little mouth.” Wade said, throwing up his hands in mock defense.

You clenched your fists, holding back the frustration that boiled beneath the surface. “You didn’t help, Wade. You egged him on. You could’ve shut up for once.”

Wade waved a dismissive hand, leaning back against the wall. “I mean, that’s debatable. Can’t really shut up when you’re this charming.”

“Charming?” Elektra muttered, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Wade and Logan.

Laura’s gaze flickered between the two of them, tension evident in the way she crossed her arms.

Logan’s eyes hadn’t left yours since the moment you walked into the room. He stared at you, the bottle of Jack still halfway to his lips, forgotten. You didn’t look like you had aged, not that much anyway. It was a jolt to his system, like stepping into a memory. There you were, alive. In this damn place.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, and though you tried to avoid it, there was no denying it now. You had locked eyes with him, this other version of Logan. His brows furrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure you out, but there was something deeper in his eyes—recognition.

“I have to go,” you muttered, stepping back outside.

Laura looked between Wade and Logan before following you. “Mom!” she called, her voice sharp and worried as she jogged to catch up.

You didn’t stop until you were a good distance away from the others, your back turned to her. You exhaled, your hands gripping the railing of an old platform overlooking the desolate landscape of the void. Laura slowed when she reached you, her boots crunching lightly against the gravel.

“Mom,” she said again, softer this time.

You closed your eyes, steadying your breathing. “I’m fine,” you replied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

“No, you’re not.” Laura crossed her arms, watching you carefully. “That wasn’t him. You know that, right?”

You turned to face her, your expression conflicted. “I know it’s not him,” you said firmly, but the words felt hollow. “It’s just… he looks the same. Sounds the same. Even drinks the same damn whiskey.”

Laura studied you for a moment before speaking. “But he’s not the Logan you knew. He’s not Dad.”

The reminder hit you like a punch to the gut. You’d had years to grieve, but seeing another version of him alive and well—so close yet so far removed from the man you loved—had ripped open wounds you thought had healed. You shook your head, trying to push it all away.

“I just need a minute,” you said, turning back to the railing.

Laura hesitated, glancing back toward the hideout. “Do you want me to…?”

“No. Go back inside,” you told her. “I’ll catch up.”

She lingered for a moment, clearly reluctant to leave you alone, but eventually nodded. “Fine. But don’t take too long. Wade’s already planning something stupid, and I don’t trust Blade not to stab him.”

You almost smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach your lips. “I’ll be there soon.”

Laura gave you one last look before heading back toward the others. You waited until her footsteps faded before letting out a long, shaky breath. You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles turning white.

---

Night had fallen in the void and Logan found himself outside sitting on a log, in front of a fire with a bottle of alcohol. He wasn’t allowed to think about this other version of you, or his own before Laura walked by him.

“Hey, hey. I’m not lookin’ for company. Get out of here.”

Laura sat down anyways, letting out a small chuckle. “You remind me of him. Angry. Drunk. Mean…”

“Sounds like a great guy—”

“Wasn’t finished.” Laura cut Logan off. “Showed up when it mattered the most. Couldn’t help it.” She watched as Logan sighed, his eyes still on the crackling fire. “You might not know it, but… you’re a good man, Logan.”

He chuckled, “you might not know it, but apparently, I’m the worst Logan.”

“I got to have a life because of you. I got to grow up because of you. A lot of kids did.”

“A lot of kids didn’t grow up because of me. Trust me, kid, I’m no hero.”

Laura looked over at him, her eyes trailing over the yellow suit. “That suit says different.”

“Yeah. Do you like it? Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. Y/N.” His voice cracked on your name, but he continued. “All of them. They wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t. Told ‘em they all look fucking ridiculous. I mean… I couldn’t have ‘em thinkin’ I wanted to be there. And then one day, while I was off on my own, the humans came… and went mutant hunting.”

“I can guess the rest.” Laura spoke.

“No, no, let me… Let me say it. I… I need to say it. By the time I stumbled home shitfaced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. Every…” Logan stifled a sob, his bottom lip quivering as he remembered the horror almost perfectly.

Scott and Beast’s bodies were at the front of the mansion, clearly trying to protect everyone else, while you and Storm were near the kids with Jean in front of you.

“This suit’s all I got to remind me of who they were. And what I did.”

Laura didn’t speak, just looked at Logan as he sniffled and took another drink of his whiskey. Finally, she spoke, “we’re headed to Cassandra’s at sunup.”

“Have fun. Not my fight.”

“We won’t pull this off without you.”

Logan briefly glanced at Laura before returning his gaze to the fire. Laura clenched her fists and stood up, beginning to walk away.

“Hey,” Logan called after her. “Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.”

She turned around to face him, “you were always the wrong guy.” Laura said, before returning on her way to base.

Logan watched Laura disappear into the darkness, her parting words echoing in his mind like a bad tune stuck on repeat. “You were always the wrong guy.” The fire crackled as he shifted on the log, the whiskey bottle in his hand feeling heavier than it should. He stared into the flames, his jaw clenched tightly, the weight of her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t the right guy. He never had been.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t look up right away, figuring it was Laura again, coming back to throw another jab. But when the footsteps stopped a few feet away and silence followed, Logan finally glanced over his shoulder.

It wasn’t Laura. It was you.

The firelight danced across your features, casting shadows and illuminating the faint lines of tension around your mouth. Your arms were crossed, and your expression was unreadable, though your eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation. Logan turned back to the fire, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“What do you want?” His voice was gruff, a practiced barrier meant to push people away.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly, your tone soft but steady. You hesitated before stepping closer, the gravel crunching beneath your boots. “Maybe to talk. Maybe to figure out why I feel like I already know you.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into the flames. “Whatever you’re lookin’ for, you’re not gonna find it here.”

You didn’t move, just stood there, watching him. “Maybe not. But I can’t ignore it—this... whatever this is.” You motioned vaguely between the two of you. “It’s like looking at a ghost.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “Funny. That’s what you feel like to me.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, but you stayed quiet, letting the weight of them sink in. After a long moment, you spoke again. “Laura told me about what happened to the others. To… your version of me.”

He tensed, the grip on his bottle tightening. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I’m not trying to pry,” you said, stepping closer. “But I think we’re both avoiding the obvious here. In your world, I’m dead. In mine…” You trailed off, the ache in your chest making it hard to finish. “He’s gone.”

Logan looked up at you then, his sharp gaze meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The fire crackled between you, the silence stretching until it felt like the void itself.

“Seems like we’re both ghosts,” Logan finally muttered, looking back at the flames.

“Maybe,” you said softly, sitting down on the edge of a nearby log. “But ghosts usually have unfinished business.”

Logan smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah? What’s yours?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked up at the dark, starless sky, your hands resting loosely in your lap. “Trying to make sure Laura survives this hellhole. Trying to get us out of here.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying you in the flickering light. “She’s a tough kid. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “She gets it from her father.”

He didn’t respond, just took another swig of his whiskey. But there was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but heavy. You both knew what it was, even if neither of you wanted to say it.

After a moment, you stood, brushing the dust off your hands. “We’re leaving at sunup,” you said. “You should come with us.”

Logan shook his head. “Not my fight.”

You let out a murmured growl, “too fuckin’ stubborn.” You said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest and looking into the crowd of trees nearby.

But he heard it. He finally turned to face you completely, that one word throwing him off. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard you curse before—he had, in one of your other lives—but it never seemed natural coming from you. Now it did, like it fit in a way it hadn’t before.

Logan’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he studied you for a moment longer, as if trying to reconcile the you he remembered with the one standing in front of him.

You didn’t seem to notice his lingering gaze, or maybe you just didn’t care. Your arms stayed crossed, and your jaw was tight as you stared into the trees, the firelight flickering across your face.

“You done sulking, or should I give you some space to mope?” you asked, finally turning to look at him.

“Mope?” Logan echoed, an edge of irritation creeping into his tone.

“Yeah, mope. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself while the rest of us try to figure out how to not die tomorrow.”

“Not my fight,” he repeated, leaning back against the log and taking another swig from his bottle.

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Because it’s easier to sit here and wallow than to do something that might actually matter.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you, his sharp gaze trying to pierce through the wall you’d thrown up.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” he asked finally. “Why the hell do you care so much what I do?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “I don’t care what you do. I care what happens to Laura.”

“She’s a tough kid. She’ll figure it out.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” you shot back. “And you know it. You’ve got this thing in you, Logan—this need to protect people, even if it’s buried under all the whiskey and self-loathing. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

Logan snorted, the sound low and humorless. “Yeah? And what makes you such an expert on me, huh? You don’t even know me.”

You blinked, and he wasn’t able to tell if it was you holding back tears or clearing your face of your emotions.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you asked quietly. “You look at me like you don’t know me, but you do. I might not be her, or any of the ones you’ve met, but… I’m still me. And you’re still you. Still Logan. You just—”

Your voice broke, but you stopped yourself from letting it out. Crying wasn’t something you did, not anymore. You held your head high, jaw tight, and swallowed down the lump that threatened to rise in your throat. But Logan didn’t look up.

He kept his gaze firmly on the fire, his knuckles white around the bottle in his hand. His silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until you finally gave up. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked back toward the base. Your footsteps echoed in the quiet void, but you didn’t look back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much this hurt you.

Logan didn’t move, didn’t call after you. The only sound left was the crackling of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind in the trees. He stared into the flames as if they held answers he couldn’t find, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

When he finally spoke, it was to himself. “I can’t do this again.”

The words were barely audible, but they carried the weight of lifetimes. He took another drink, letting the burn of the whiskey distract him from the ache in his chest. But no matter how hard he tried to drown it, your voice still lingered, cutting through the alcohol like a knife.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Because looking at you hurt. Because every time he did, he saw her—his version of you. The one he’d failed. The one he couldn’t save.

And maybe, if he admitted it to himself, because he was scared. Scared of letting you in. Scared of losing you all over again.

---

When you got back to the base, Laura was leaning against the wall, sharpening one of her claws with a whetstone. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

“Did he come around?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you sat down heavily on one of the benches. “He’s too stubborn. I should’ve known better.”

Laura snorted. “Stubborn runs in the family.”

You gave her a sharp look, but she just shrugged and went back to her whetstone. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone filled the silence, but it didn’t do much to calm the storm in your chest.

“He’ll show up,” Laura said after a moment, her tone more subdued. “He always does. Even when he says he won’t.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “But it’s not my Logan.”

Laura paused, her hand stilling for a moment before she looked up at you. “He’s still Logan,” she said quietly. “And you’re still you.”

You didn’t respond. What could you say to that? She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make it any easier.

---

Logan stayed by the fire long after it had started to die out, the whiskey bottle empty at his feet. He should’ve gone back to the base, but the thought of facing you again felt like too much.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Not after everything he’d already lost. Not after what had happened to his world, to his team, to you.

But as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, he found himself standing, brushing the ash from his hands.

Maybe Laura was right. Maybe he was too damn stubborn for his own good.

But if there was even a chance he could make this right, if there was even a sliver of hope that he could protect you—this version of you—then maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.

---

“Ooh! Look at that there!” Remy exclaimed, looking ahead at Cassandra’s base. You see them biggum hands come closed. Ain’t not a wonna gettin’ up inside there.”

“I think what Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up at this… yeah. Tilt up to Blade.” Wade trailed off.

“Gun!” Blade called out, as he stood up in the car through the opening in the roof. You lifted the gun up to Blade, who took it and aimed at the base.

“Where’d he get that little beauty?” Wade asked.

“That’s Punisher’s AT4.” Elektra answered.

“Which Punisher? There’s been, like, five of them.”

“There’s only been one Blade, and there’s only ever gonna be one Blade.” He spoke, before shooting the gun. It hit the closed hands of the Ant-Man suit causing Elektra to speed up, driving through the fire from the explosion before turning the car to a halt.

Cassandra’s minions aimed their weapons at the group as you all exited the van. You and Laura stood in the back with Wade and Remy in the front, and Blade and Elektra to the sides. Wade looked up into the head of the enlarged suit to see Cassandra.

The Odyssey’s trunk opening caught everyone’s attention. Turning to look, you saw Logan exiting the van. His eyes instantly met yours before briefly glancing at Laura. He moved to the front beside Wade.

“Ooh, this is gonna be good.” Blade commented.

“You know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this? Whoo! I’m about to make a name for myself here.” Remy spoke.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this.” Logan commented.

“You just make sure people know what happened here today. And when you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?” Remy finished.

“You just stay on our six and get inside.” Blad ordered, moving to the front. You, Laura, and Elektra moved with him, standing in front of Wade and Logan. “We’ll make sure you get the package.”

“And we’ll get our ending.” Elektra said.

You pulled out your batons, powering them on as they shone blue, the faint hum of their charge filling the air. Laura slid on her sunglasses, her claws extending with a metallic snikt. Everyone was ready—Blade with his katana, Elektra twirling her sais, and Remy flicking a charged card between his fingers.

Cassandra’s minions surged forward, a chaotic wave of bodies armed with guns, knives, and makeshift weapons. You took a deep breath and moved in sync with Laura and Elektra, forming the front line of the attack.

Logan hung back with Wade, his eyes narrowing as he watched you dart forward, your movements swift and precise. It was like a dance—graceful, brutal, and deliberate. Each swing of your baton hit its mark, dropping Cassandra’s soldiers with calculated efficiency. He couldn’t reconcile this version of you with the shy physics teacher he’d known. This wasn’t the you he remembered, who’d tucked herself away in a world of equations and theories. This version fought with a cold, detached precision that sent a shiver down his spine.

“You seeing this?” Wade said, nudging Logan as he ducked a stray bullet. “Your girl’s got moves.”

Logan grunted, not taking his eyes off you. “She’s not my Y/N.”

“Right, right, multiverse shenanigans. Still, if I were you, I’d feel a little insecure. That physics degree sure didn’t teach her how to do that.” Wade gestured wildly as you flipped over one of Cassandra’s soldiers, your baton cracking down on his skull mid-air.

Logan ignored him and started up the steps toward the lair, his claws unsheathed. “C’mon, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Ugh, fine. Leave the fun to the professionals,” Wade muttered, following Logan while tossing a grenade over his shoulder. It exploded behind him, sending a group of minions flying.

Meanwhile, you spun around, parrying a blade aimed at Laura before kicking its wielder into Elektra’s path. “We’ve got this!” you shouted. “Go!”

Laura glanced at you, her lip curling into a snarl as she slashed through another attacker. “Make sure they don’t screw it up.”

You smirked. “Like I’d let them.”

Logan heard you, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t want to. Seeing you fight like this, kill like this, wasn’t something he could reconcile. In his world, you wouldn’t have hurt a fly, let alone taken a life. And yet, here you were, effortlessly carving through Cassandra’s forces like you’d been doing it your whole life.

“Seriously,” Wade panted as they reached the top of the stairs, “how are you not having, like, a major existential crisis right now? I mean, you’re watching your not-wife turn into a murder machine. That’s gotta mess with your head.”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled.

Meanwhile, the five of you stood in front of the stairs, bloodied and battle-worn. Blade smirked, flicking blood from his sword with a casual shake of his wrist. “Heh. Some motherfuckers still trying to ice skate uphill.”

There wasn’t time for banter. Cassandra’s remaining minions surged toward you like a swarm. You darted forward, Laura beside you, the two of you moving as a deadly unit.

“On your left!” you shouted, swinging your baton in a sharp arc to deflect a blade aimed at Laura’s ribs.

“Got it,” Laura replied, ducking low and slashing through the attacker’s legs before finishing with a swift upward strike.

The chaos of battle roared around you, but your focus locked on the figure in the center. He was barreling through the fray, tossing bodies like rag dolls.

“Mom, we take him together,” Laura called, already moving toward him.

You nodded, gripping your batons tightly. “Go high; I’ll go low!”

As you charged, Juggernaut swung his massive fists toward you. You ducked under one blow, the force of it creating a shockwave that rattled your teeth. Laura leaped over the other, her claws slashing across his arm. Sparks flew as her adamantium claws met his reinforced suit.

“Damn it,” Laura growled, flipping back to avoid his retaliatory strike.

“Helmet,” you reminded her, dodging another swing.

“Working on it!” she snapped, lunging forward again.

You feinted left, drawing his attention, while Laura climbed his back like a feral animal, her claws digging into the material. Juggernaut roared in frustration, reaching back to grab her, but you jabbed your baton into the back of his knee, sending him stumbling forward.

“Keep him down!” Laura shouted, her claws ripping through the side of his helmet.

“Trying!” you yelled, slamming your baton into his other knee. The impact sent a jolt through your arm, but it was enough to drop him to one knee.

Laura didn’t hesitate. She yanked his helmet free and flung it toward you. “Catch!”

You grabbed it mid-air and shoved it into Laura’s backpack. “Got it!”

Juggernaut let out a guttural roar, swinging wildly in an attempt to regain control. Before he could stand, Laura’s claws flashed, slicing clean through his neck. His head toppled to the ground with a sickening thud, and his massive body collapsed seconds later.

“Nice work,” you panted, wiping sweat from your brow.

“Don’t get cocky,” Laura replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her face.

The two of you turned your attention to the giant Ant-Man helmet, Cassandra’s lair. Laura adjusted the backpack on her shoulders you handed her and glanced at you. “Boost me.”

You crouched, lacing your fingers together. Laura stepped into your hands, and you launched her upward. She caught onto the edge of the massive helmet, her foot claws extending as she began scaling the structure.

“Almost there,” she called down.

You stayed on guard, fending off any straggling minions who dared approach. Laura reached the top, pulling the backpack from her shoulder and tossed it into the lair where Wade grabbed it.

“Catch that?” she asked.

“Perfect throw,” you replied, knocking out a soldier with a swift elbow strike.

Before Laura could climb down, one of Cassandra’s soldiers used a psychic lasso, yanking her down. She fell, twisting mid-air to land on her feet, but more minions rushed toward her.

“Laura!” you shouted, moving to intercept them.

“I’m fine!” she snapped, slashing through one of the attackers. “Just keep them off me!”

The group fought with renewed vigor as the minions closed in. Elektra moved like a blur, her sais spinning with lethal precision. Blade fought alongside her, his katana carving through the enemy ranks. Remy flicked charged cards into clusters of soldiers, the explosions creating openings for you and Laura to strike.

The battle reached its peak when a low, rumbling growl filled the air. You looked up to see a massive dark cloud—Alioth. It loomed closer, its ominous presence sending chills down your spine.

“All clear!” Blade shouted as the last of Cassandra’s minions fell.

You exchanged a glance with Laura, both of you breathing heavily. “Let’s move!”

The air shimmered as a glowing portal opened above you. You watched as Wade and Logan jumped through it, disappearing into the unknown.

You felt a pang of something—loss, maybe?—as you saw Logan vanish, but you pushed it aside. There was no time to dwell on it.

Especially when not even moments later, orange doors appeared in front of you.

---

“So, how does it feel to be in the past, Sparky?” Wade asked you, putting an arm over your shoulder.

You promptly shoved it off, “don’t call me that, suka.”

Wade let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you’d just stabbed him. “Ouch, that hurt, Sparky. Right in the feelings.”

You gave him a look. “Try again, Wilson.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed, adjusting Dogpool in his arms. The little thing was fast asleep, drooling all over Wade’s sleeve. “But you gotta admit, it fits. You know, because of the—” He made an exaggerated exploding motion with his fingers.

Laura rolled her eyes. “Can we just go? I’d rather not stand in the middle of a parking lot looking like a rejected Suicide Squad lineup.”

“I don’t know, I think we make it work,” Wade said, waving a hand between the three of you. “Got the grumpy old man, the feral murder daughter, and the ex—” He stopped himself, side-eyeing you before clearing his throat. “—the badass chick with secrets. Feels like a sitcom waiting to happen.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just get us where we need to go, Wilson.”

“Alright, alright. Welcome to Casa de Deadpool—where the beer is warm, the floors are sticky, and the roommates are blind. Follow me.”

Wade led the way, humming some off-key tune while you, Logan, and Laura followed. You glanced at Logan. His face was unreadable, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t said much since the fight, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He wasn’t your Logan. You weren’t his Y/N. But still… it was hard not to see the familiarity in his face, the way his brow furrowed just so, the way his jaw clenched when he was thinking too hard about something.

You looked away. No point in getting caught up in what-ifs.

“Alright, home sweet home!” Wade announced, throwing the door open.

The inside was… exactly what you expected. Empty pizza boxes, half-drunk bottles of something questionable, and the faint smell of something that had probably died under the couch.

Blind Al sat in her usual spot, her head tilting slightly in your direction. “Oh great, more people. Just what I needed.”

“Oh, don’t be rude, Al,” Wade scolded. “These are my very special guests. We’ve got Grumpy Claws, Murder Jr., and Timey-Wimey.”

“I’m not calling them that.”

“You don’t have to, but the audience will.”

Al sighed, clearly used to Wade’s antics. “Are they staying?”

“Just for a bit,” Wade said, tossing Dogpool onto the couch, where he immediately curled up. “Logan here needs a drink, and I’m guessing these two need a place to not be hunted by crazy bald ladies in giant Ant-Man skeletons.”

Al’s head tilted toward Logan. “You drinking my whiskey?”

“...Maybe.”

“Then you can sleep outside.”

Laura smirked, and you huffed a quiet laugh. Logan just shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

You leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “So what now?”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Now? We celebrate. We drink. We unwind from our very successful murder spree. And then, bright and early tomorrow—” He paused, leaning in like he was about to share some big, dramatic secret. “—we figure out what the fuck to do with you guys.”

“I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen. I have some money stashed somewhere, I’ll go get it, come back, then me and Laura can leave so we never have to see your faces again.” You said.

Wade let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Leave? Leave? Y/N, honey, sweetheart, my beloved time-traveling murder mom—why would you ever want to leave me?” He clutched his chest like you’d just driven a knife into his heart.

Laura crossed her arms. “I can think of about twenty reasons.”

“Okay, rude.” Wade pouted, shifting Dogpool in his arms. The little thing let out a content sigh, completely unbothered by the chaos. “But seriously, you’re gonna take off just like that? No heart-to-heart? No teary-eyed goodbye? No passionate ‘will-they-won’t-they’ moment with Grumpy Claws over there?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not interested.”

“Are you sure?” He wiggled his eyebrows, then pointed at Logan, who had yet to say a word. “Because that face screams tension.”

Logan let out a long breath through his nose, like he was physically restraining himself from punching Wade in the throat. “I’m not dealin’ with this shit right now.”

Wade gave him finger guns. “That’s a tomorrow problem, huh, bud?”

Logan ignored him. Instead, he looked at you. “This money you’re talkin’ about—where is it?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you to go off alone, get it, and come back in one piece.”

Laura scoffed. “She can handle herself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Logan said, looking at her before turning his attention back to you. “But I ain’t gonna let you run off and get yourself killed when we just finished dealin’ with enough shit.”

You stared at him for a long moment. The way he was looking at you—it was careful, measured, like he was trying to keep himself in check. You knew that look. Your Logan used to look at you the same way. Like he was always preparing himself to lose you.

But this Logan wasn’t yours. And you weren’t his.

Still, you looked away first. “It’s in a lockbox at a storage facility a few miles from here.”

“Great,” Wade said, clapping his hands together. “Field trip!”

“No.” You turned to Logan. “I’ll go. Alone.”

“Not happenin’.”

“Logan—”

“No.” His voice was firm, final. “I’ll go with you.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Fine. Just let me freshen up.” You walked off to where you hoped the bathroom was, but not before mouthing, “parar” to Laura.

You locked the bathroom door behind you, glancing around the small, cluttered space. Wade’s idea of ‘freshening up’ probably involved nothing more than spraying deodorant over questionable hygiene decisions, but you had other plans.

Stepping up to the sink, you turned the faucet on, letting the water run just to make it sound like you were actually doing something in here. Then, moving quickly, you flipped the lock on the window and shoved it open. The cool night air hit your face as you glanced outside—an alley, empty except for a couple of overturned trash cans.

Perfect.

You hoisted yourself up, slipping through with practiced ease before lowering yourself down onto the pavement below. The moment your feet hit the ground, you took off down the alley, keeping to the shadows.

Back inside, Laura leaned against the wall near Wade’s stained couch, arms crossed as she watched Logan shift impatiently.

“She takin’ a damn shower in there?” Logan grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“She said she was freshening up,” Laura replied casually, not looking up from the knife she was idly flipping between her fingers.

Logan huffed. “It’s been long enough. I’m gettin’ her.”

Laura didn’t move as he pushed off the wall and headed for the bathroom. The moment he reached for the doorknob, she spoke.

“You should wait,” she said.

Logan shot her a look over his shoulder. “Why?”

Laura finally looked up, her expression unreadable. “Just ‘cause.”

That made Logan pause. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between her and the closed bathroom door. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Kid,” he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion, “where’d she really go?”

Laura met his gaze evenly. “She’ll be back.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “Damn it.” He turned, pushing the bathroom door open with enough force to slam it against the wall. The running faucet mocked him, the open window sealing the truth of it.

“She ditched us,” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Wade peered in behind him. “Oof. Classic Sparky move. You love to see it.”

Logan turned on his heel, his glare cutting through Wade like a knife. “Where’d she go?”

Wade shrugged dramatically. “Beats me. But if I had to guess? Probably somewhere far away from your grumpy ass.”

Logan growled, storming back into the room. “Damn stubborn—” He turned to Laura. “You knew.”

She didn’t flinch under his stare. “Yeah.”

His fists clenched, frustration mounting. “And you let her go?”

“She can handle herself,” Laura said simply.

“That ain’t the point,” Logan snapped.

“Then what is?”

Logan opened his mouth, then shut it. What was the point? That he didn’t want her runnin’ off alone? That the thought of her out there, possibly in danger, made his gut twist?

“She’ll be fine,” Laura said again. “She’ll be back before you know it.”

Logan shot her a sharp look. “And you knew she was gonna pull this shit?”

Laura didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn stubborn woman.”

Wade, now comfortably sprawled on the couch, feet kicked up on the armrest, wiggled his fingers dramatically. “Aw, look at you, all worked up. It’s almost like you care.”

Logan glared at him. “Shut the hell up.”

Wade gasped, hand over his heart. “Ouch! That’s no way to talk to your bestest buddy in the whole world. You know, if you keep scowling like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Logan ignored him, turning back to Laura. “Where’d she go?”

Laura shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

“Bullshit,” Logan growled. “She told you something.”

Laura arched a brow. “Even if mom did, why would I tell you?”

Logan stepped forward, voice dropping low. “Because she’s out there alone, and I don’t trust her not to get herself into trouble.”

Laura tilted her head. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Logan clenched his teeth, nostrils flaring. “Damn kid’s just as bad as she is.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Wade, now peeling an old banana he found on the coffee table, piped up. “Look, let’s be real here—Sparky probably ditched us so she could do some shady, assassin-y, Black Widow type shit. Maybe she’s robbing a bank! Maybe she’s breaking into a top-secret government facility! Maybe she’s meeting a mysterious lover who—”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve melted steel.

“Or,” Wade continued, grinning, “maybe she’s just getting her money so she can take Little Miss Stabby Hands here and leave your grumpy ass behind.”

Logan’s jaw tightened.

Wade snapped his fingers. “Ohhh, there it is. That realization. That little pang in your chest. That Oh no, I don’t want her to leave feeling.”

Logan ignored him. “She said somethin’ about a storage facility,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “A few miles from here.”

Laura sighed. “And now you’re gonna go after her?”

“Damn right, I am.”

“She doesn’t want you to.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Laura watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. But don’t get all dramatic when she punches you for following her.”

Wade sat up, tossing his banana peel over his shoulder. “Ooooh, I gotta see this. Road trip!”

Logan grabbed his jacket off the chair, shooting Wade a glare. “You’re stayin’ here.”

Wade pouted. “Rude.”

Laura smirked. “Good luck.”

Logan muttered something under his breath and stormed toward the door, already regretting whatever the hell he was about to do.

---

You hadn’t been at this storage facility in almost 2 decades, from before you joined the x-men. It was a standard procedure, you left large amounts of cash, fake id’s, and weapons hidden in almost every major city.

The lock clicked open with a soft beep, and you tossed it onto the floor, pushing the storage unit door up. The metal groaned as it rolled upward, revealing the small space packed neatly with everything you’d left behind years ago—cash, fake IDs, weapons, emergency supplies. It was all still there, untouched.

You exhaled through your nose. Good. This would be enough to get you and Laura far away from New York.

You crouched down, lifting a duffel bag from the pile, zipping it open. Stacks of cash, bundled and secure, sat inside. Grabbing a few more rolls, you stuffed them in before reaching for one of the smaller, locked cases in the back. Inside were passports, IDs, credit cards—everything you’d need to disappear.

Your fingers brushed over one of the old IDs. It was worn from time but still legible. A name you hadn’t used in years. A version of yourself that no longer existed.

“Never thought I’d see you here.”

The voice sent a jolt up your spine. You knew it before you even turned around.

Logan.

You let out a slow breath before standing, keeping your expression neutral as you turned to face him. He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between you and the duffel bag.

“Took you long enough,” you muttered, zipping the bag closed.

He stepped inside, boots heavy against the concrete. “Could say the same about you,” he replied. “Sneaking out like that. Real subtle.”

You slung the bag over your shoulder. “Wasn’t trying to be subtle. Just effective.”

Logan scoffed. “Right. And this little errand of yours—it’s just about gettin’ cash?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” You met his eyes, unwavering. “I came here to get what I need. Then I’m leaving.”

His jaw tightened. “And by ‘leaving,’ you mean what? Takin’ off across the country? Across the world?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” he said sharply. “It does.”

You clenched your jaw, adjusting the bag strap. “Not to you.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, a flicker of something in his eyes—frustration, maybe something else. “You really think I don’t give a shit?”

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Logan—”

“No, you listen,” he cut in, stepping closer. “You don’t wanna stick around, fine. You wanna take off with the kid, start fresh? I get it. But you don’t get to act like I don’t care.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together.

“I know I ain’t him,” Logan continued, voice lower now. “And you ain’t her. But that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna let you walk away without sayin’ a damn word.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. “Fine.” You walked out of the unit and picked up the lock you’d tossed to the floor. You threw it toward Logan, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice. “Mind lockin’ up for me? Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and headed down the narrow hallway, duffel bag weighing on your shoulder. You knew he’d follow. Hell, part of you expected it. Still, you kept your pace brisk, eyes forward, determined not to let him see the mess of emotions churning behind your calm façade.

Sure enough, you heard his footsteps closing in on you just a few seconds later. “Hey,” he called, his tone halfway between annoyed and concerned, “hold up.”

You didn’t stop. “I don’t recall askin’ for backup, Logan.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Rolling your eyes, you quickened your stride. “This is none of your business. I just need what’s in that storage unit. Then I’m done.”

“Done with what?” He stayed right on your heels. “You keep sayin’ you’re leaving, but leaving for where?”

“Somewhere that isn’t here,” you shot back, pushing open the heavy exit door. The chill of the evening air hit you like a slap, but you welcomed it. At least it was better than the stale, fluorescent-lit corridor.

Logan grabbed the door before it slammed shut, following you outside. “And what about Laura?”

“What about her?” You spun around to face him, jaw tight. “She’s comin’ with me. That’s it. We’ve both been through enough.”

“Enough of what, exactly?” His gaze flicked to the duffel bag. “You got money, IDs, weapons in there? Where’re you even plannin’ on goin’?”

You tightened your grip on the strap, resisting the urge to throw a punch at the damn question. “Somewhere quiet. A place we can actually live. Maybe not a perfect life, but a life that’s ours, away from… all of this. Away from Wade and the insanity he brings. Away from you.”

Logan’s expression clouded, though he tried to mask it behind a scowl. “Could just as easily do that in New York. Wade might be a pain in the ass, but he’s not forcing you to stay.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Because it’s so easy, right? Laura and I just hole up in some apartment, pretend everything’s normal when half the city’s got vigilantes flyin’ around? When there are still people lookin’ for us—always will be?” You shook your head, glancing at the ground. “No. We’re done with that.”

He took a step closer, voice lowering. “So that’s it. You’re gonna vanish and start over. Another new name, new ID, new everything.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter of guilt. “Worked before. It’ll work again.”

For a second, you both fell silent. A car drove by in the distance, headlights flashing across the storage facility’s cracked walls. You squared your shoulders, forcing yourself not to look at him. The way he studied your face was too familiar, too painful.

Finally, Logan cleared his throat. “I know I’m not him.” His tone had lost some of its edge. “I’m not your Logan, and you’re not… mine. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to stand here and watch you self-destruct.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. “Self-destruct?” you echoed, voice trembling with anger. “That’s rich, comin’ from the guy who’s been drinking himself into oblivion every night since I laid eyes on him.”

He clenched his jaw, but he didn’t deny it. “I’m not sayin’ I got my shit together. I’m sayin’ you don’t have to do this alone.”

“How ‘bout you cut the crap,” you fired back. “We don’t know each other. We’re strangers. I’ve known you for, what, two days? I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. And if that includes taking her out of this state, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his patience fraying at the edges. “You really think you can just pack up and disappear?”

You tightened your grip on the duffel bag, your stance unwavering. “Worked before.”

“That’s not an answer.” He stepped closer, his voice low, edged with frustration. “You’re actin’ like I’m some kinda obstacle. Like I’m one more thing you gotta shake off before you can breathe easy.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what you are.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you cold.

“You’re runnin’,” he said.

You exhaled sharply, spinning back around. “I am not running.”

“Feels like you are.”

“No, Logan, you don’t get it.” Your voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Wade. This is about Laura. About what we need.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “And what? You think ditchin’ the only people who’ve got your back is the answer?”

“I think getting away from this life—your life—is the answer.”

Something shifted in his expression, something bitter and tired. “So that’s it? You wanna go play house somewhere, pretend none of this ever happened?”

You squared your shoulders, forcing yourself not to flinch at the weight of his words. “No one’s pretending anything. I just don’t want to look over my shoulder every damn day.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what happens when the past catches up to you? Because it always does.”

You stepped forward, closing the space between you. “Then I’ll deal with it. But I’m done doing it your way.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The night air pressed in, thick with everything left unsaid. Logan’s gaze burned into you, searching, waiting. But you didn’t give him the answer he wanted.

He exhaled, looking away. “You’re makin’ a mistake.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But it’s mine to make.”

Logan clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. You half expected him to argue, to push, to demand something from you. But instead, he just nodded, stepping aside.

“Fine,” he said, voice gruff. “Do what you gotta do.”

You didn’t linger. Didn’t give yourself time to second-guess. You adjusted the strap on your shoulder and walked past him without another word.

As you disappeared into the night, Logan stayed where he was, fists clenched, jaw tight. Watching.

Letting you go.

---

The car you bought from a used-car dealership was silent, other than the radio softly playing pop music that Laura liked as she stared out the window, her sunglasses over her eyes.

You had just exited the New York City traffic and were heading south—but other than that, you didn’t know where you were going. Maybe you would stop somewhere in Pennsylvania, or West Virgina if you were lucky.

Laura tapped her fingers against her knee in rhythm with the song playing on the radio, her sunglasses perched on her nose as she stared out the window. The highway stretched ahead, empty except for a few distant cars.

"You know where we're stopping?" she asked, her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity.

You kept your hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the road ahead. "Not yet. Somewhere quiet, somewhere we can lay low for a bit."

Laura tilted her head slightly, still watching the trees blur past. "So, nowhere specific."

"Nowhere specific," you confirmed.

She nodded, letting a few moments pass before speaking again. "You think he's following us?"

You exhaled through your nose, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Probably."

Laura hummed. "You gonna punch him if he shows up?"

You smirked. "Maybe."

Laura smirked back, adjusting her sunglasses. "Can I watch?"

"If he pushes his luck, I'll make sure you get front-row seats."

Silence settled between you, only broken by the soft hum of the music and the occasional sound of the tires on the road.

Then, Laura spoke again, her voice quieter. "You sure about this?"

You glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Just… we’ve been running for a long time. Feels like that’s all we ever do. What happens when we stop?"

Your fingers flexed on the wheel. "Then we figure it out."

Laura nodded slowly, like she was mulling it over. Then, after a beat, she said, "We’re out of snacks."

You snorted. "I’ll stop at the next gas station."

"Good." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "But if he shows up, I’m picking the next destination."

"Deal," you said.

Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew Logan would catch up eventually. The only question was when.

---

“Whaddya think about Florida?” you asked, swirling your milkshake with the red-and-white striped straw. After two days of driving, you and Laura had landed in Nashville—not exactly planned, but necessary. The money situation was getting tight, and you had a stash here.

Laura sat across from you in the dingy diner booth, picking at the fries on her plate. Her sunglasses were still on, even though the place was dimly lit, the neon “Open 24 Hours” sign flickering against the window beside you.

She shrugged. “Kinda humid, isn’t it?”

You snorted. “That’s your issue with Florida?”

She popped a fry into her mouth. “I don’t like humidity.”

“Well, we’re runnin’ out of options,” you said, taking another sip of your milkshake. “I’d rather not head west, too many people I don’t wanna run into. And the north? I’m done with the cold.”

Laura considered that, chewing thoughtfully. “So, Florida.”

“Yeah.”

She tapped her fingers against the table. “Ever been?”

“A couple times,” you admitted. “But never long enough to get comfortable.”

Laura leaned back, arms crossed. “What’s in Florida?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Hopefully? A quiet place. Some space. Enough cash to keep us moving if we need to.”

Laura was quiet for a beat, then said, “And what if we don’t need to?”

Your hand froze over your cup. You looked up at her, but she wasn’t looking at you—she was staring at her plate, pushing a fry around in the ketchup.

You exhaled, setting your drink down. “Then we don’t.”

Laura didn’t say anything, but she nodded slightly, like she was mulling it over.

You let the silence settle for a moment before reaching into your jacket pocket and pulling out a small envelope. You slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Fake IDs. A couple different names for you, just in case.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Where’s yours?”

You smirked. “I’ve been doin’ this longer than you, muñeca. Mine are already handled.”

Laura picked up the envelope, flipping through the IDs. Her lips twitched when she landed on one. “Carla?”

You rolled your eyes. “It was short notice.”

Laura shook her head, stuffing the envelope into her pocket. “How much cash do we have left?”

“Enough to get us a motel for the night,” you said. “Then I’ll hit the stash in the morning, and we’ll go from there.”

She tapped her nails against the table. “And if someone’s watching it?”

You took another sip of your milkshake. “Then I deal with it.”

Laura didn’t argue, but she gave you a look.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You sure you don’t want him to come after us?”

You froze for half a second before scoffing. “Logan?”

Laura shrugged, popping another fry in her mouth. “I mean, it’d be kinda funny. Watching him all pissed off, trying to track us down.”

You smirked. “I’d give it a day before he gave up and found a bar instead.”

Laura chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah. Probably.”

The conversation shifted after that—lighter, easier. You finished your food, paid in cash, and headed back to the car.

As you pulled onto the empty road, Laura leaned back against the passenger seat, her feet propped up on the dashboard. “If we go to Florida, I’m picking the first place we stop.”

“Deal.”

The road stretched ahead, dark and open, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional song crackling from the radio.

For now, it was enough.

---

The Florida heat wasn’t as unbearable as you’d expected. It was different from the suffocating summers in New York or the bone-chilling winters in Canada. Here, everything moved slower—the ocean waves rolling onto the sand, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the distant hum of cicadas at night. For the first time in a long time, you and Laura weren’t running.

The job at the high school had been a last-minute decision, something stable to keep you grounded. It wasn’t hard work—not compared to everything else you’d done in your life. Wrangling teenagers in gym class was nothing compared to dodging bullets or teaching mutant children to use their powers. And Laura? She was doing good. She got her GED, started talking about what she wanted to do next. It was a normal life, or as close as either of you could get to one.

You leaned back in your chair on the porch, the scent of saltwater drifting through the air. Laura was sitting across from you, flipping through a book while picking at the remnants of her dinner.

"You gonna eat that or just mutilate it?" you asked, raising a brow at the half-demolished slice of pizza on her plate.

Laura shrugged, still looking at her book. "Not hungry."

You snorted, reaching over and stealing a piece of crust. "Then quit wasting good food."

She kicked your shin under the table, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make a point. "I was getting to it."

"Sure you were." You chewed the crust, glancing out at the ocean beyond the dunes. The sky was starting to darken, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting everything in shades of orange and pink.

Laura shut her book with a soft thud. "You think he's still looking for us?"

You didn’t need to ask who she meant. "Probably."

She rested her chin in her hand. "You miss him?"

The question made you pause, your fingers tightening slightly around the crust before you set it down. "I don’t know."

Laura gave you a look. "Liar."

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "It’s complicated."

"It always is with you two."

You huffed out a quiet laugh. "And how would you know?"

Laura smirked. "Because you get that look whenever I bring him up."

You frowned. "What look?"

"The one you’re making right now."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. "Even if I did miss him—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter. He’s not the same Logan, and I’m not sticking around to see if he turns into him."

Laura was quiet for a moment before she said, "He still came after us."

"Yeah, and?"

"And that means something."

You shook your head. "It means he’s stubborn."

"Or it means he cares."

You scoffed. "He knew us for two days."

Laura shrugged. "Sometimes that’s enough."

You didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, you picked at the label on your beer bottle, watching the condensation roll down the glass.

After a while, Laura stood up, stretching. "I’m going to bed."

You nodded, not looking up. "Night, muñeca."

She hesitated for a second. "You’d tell me if you wanted to go back, right?"

You finally looked at her, meeting her eyes. "I don’t want to go back."

Laura studied you for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

She disappeared inside, leaving you alone with the sound of the waves and the quiet hum of your thoughts.

You didn’t want to go back.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t expect him to show up.

---

He showed up.

You were walking out of the store, picking up some more food since Laura ate a lot, when you saw him across the street, talking to some guy.

It was clear he hadn’t seen you—if he did, it would’ve been a miracle, spotting you in a parking lot full of suburban moms and their SUV’s. You quickly put the final bag in the trunk and closed it, getting into the driver’s seat, glad that an SUV was blocking the window, and of course that you were wearing a wig.

You scrolled through your phone, quickly looking up plane tickets before purchasing two for Anaheim, California, which left in three hours. It would be a short trip, long enough to take Laura out to Disneyland—somewhere she wanted to go when she was younger, and maybe see the sights before coming back.

With the tickets secured, you tossed your phone onto the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel, exhaling slowly. You could still see Logan across the street, standing near a bar, talking to some guy you didn’t recognize. His stance was the same as always—broad, solid, like he was ready for a fight even when there wasn’t one. You couldn’t tell if he was actively looking for you or if it was just dumb luck that put him in the same town. Either way, it didn’t matter.

You put the car in drive, pulling out of the parking lot with careful ease. No sudden movements. No panic. You were good at this—disappearing.

By the time you got home, Laura was already sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels with half a bag of chips resting on her stomach. She barely glanced up when you walked in.

"Got food," you said, setting the bags on the counter.

"About time," Laura muttered, grabbing another chip. "I was starting to think you got lost or arrested."

"Very funny," you deadpanned, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Pack a bag."

That got her attention. She sat up, eyeing you with suspicion. "For what?"

"California," you answered, twisting the cap off your bottle. "Leaving in a few hours."

Laura blinked. "Wait… what?"

"You heard me," you said, taking a sip. "Disneyland. Quick trip."

She narrowed her eyes. "You saw him, didn’t you?"

You paused mid-drink before lowering the bottle. "Doesn’t matter."

"That’s a yes," she muttered, tossing the remote onto the couch. "You’re seriously dragging me to Disneyland just to avoid him?"

"I’m taking you to Disneyland because I promised," you corrected. "Avoiding him is just a bonus."

Laura folded her arms. "You know he’s gonna find us eventually."

"Probably," you admitted, leaning against the counter. "But not today."

Laura exhaled through her nose, clearly debating whether or not to argue. Finally, she stood up, brushing chip crumbs off her shirt.

"I’m picking the first ride," she said.

You smirked. "Deal."

---

The airport was busy but not unbearable. You and Laura moved through security without issue, your fake IDs holding up just as they always did. It was second nature at this point. The two of you boarded the plane, settling into your seats with practiced ease.

Laura put her headphones in, shutting the world out almost immediately. You, on the other hand, couldn’t quite relax. You had that feeling again—that gnawing sense that you were being watched, even when you knew you weren’t.

Logan would look for you. You knew that much. But you also knew how to stay ahead of him.

For now, at least.

You leaned back in your seat, closing your eyes. Just a few days away. That was all you needed.

Just a few days.

---

“Wade,” Logan growled into the phone. “Your contact was fucking useless. They’re not here.”

There was a pause on the other end before Wade let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh no! You mean my totally legitimate, not-at-all shady informant lied? Color me shocked.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “You told me they were still in Florida.”

“Well, yeah, because I thought they were,” Wade replied, his voice way too casual. “Turns out, your little murder mom and stabby daughter are really good at vanishing. Who knew?”

Logan clenched his jaw, his patience wearing dangerously thin. “Did you actually talk to this guy, or did you just pull a name outta your ass and hope for the best?”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Wade said. “Second of all, I did talk to him. And third of all, I’m beginning to think you have trust issues.”

Logan let out a low growl, glancing around the dimly lit parking lot. He had been following a lead for hours, only to find himself at a dead end. Again. “You got anything else, Wilson, or am I wasting my time?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking me—”

“I wasn’t.”

“Fair,” Wade admitted. “But if I had to guess—and I am very good at guessing—I’d say Y/N is doing what she does best.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, already annoyed by whatever bullshit answer was coming.

“Running.”

Logan’s grip on the phone tightened. He knew it was true, even before Wade said it. He had seen enough of you to know your patterns, and disappearing was your specialty.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right. You had said goodbye. He just hadn’t wanted you to go.

“So what’s your next move, grumpy pants?” Wade asked.

Logan exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the pavement. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, I do,” Wade said. “You stop chasing her like a crazy ex-boyfriend and let her live her life.”

Logan ignored the jab. “They ain’t safe on their own.”

“Oh, please,” Wade scoffed. “Y/N could take both of us in a fight with one hand tied behind her back. And Laura? That kid is a human blender with anger issues. What exactly are you worried about?”

Logan didn’t answer.

Wade sighed dramatically. “Look, I get it. You’ve got feelings—gross. But maybe, just maybe, you should consider that she doesn’t want to be found.”

Logan clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

“Or, you know, keep chasing her,” Wade continued. “Nothing screams ‘healthy relationship’ like stalking.”

Logan ended the call without another word.

He stood there for a moment, jaw tight, before slipping his phone back into his pocket. His eyes scanned the quiet street, but there was nothing. No sign of you.

Not yet, anyway.

---

It was the first time in a while—months—that you saw Laura this happy. Being in the Void had been hard on both of you, but now, as you walked around Disneyland with Mickey Mouse ears perched on your head and a churro in hand, things felt lighter.

Laura, wearing her own pair of ears, pointed toward one of the bigger roller coasters. “That one.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of your churro. “You sure? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” she asked, arms crossed.

“The look you get when you won’t admit you’re nervous.”

Laura scoffed, turning toward the ride again. “I’m not nervous.”

You smirked. “Uh-huh.”

“Are we going or not?”

You chewed thoughtfully, glancing up at the towering structure of the coaster. “I dunno. I’m kinda enjoying this churro.”

Laura grabbed your wrist and started dragging you toward the line. “You can eat and walk.”

You laughed, letting her pull you along. “Pushy.”

As the two of you weaved through the crowd, the excitement buzzing in the air was infectious. Kids in princess dresses, parents trying to wrangle toddlers, and groups of friends laughing between bites of overpriced snacks. It was normal.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Laura was practically bouncing on her heels.

“You gonna scream?” you teased, nudging her.

She shot you a look. “No.”

You snorted. “We’ll see.”

The ride operator waved you forward, and you both climbed into the seats, pulling the safety bars down.

As the coaster lurched forward, Laura gripped the handlebar a little tighter.

You smirked. “Told you.”

She didn’t have time to retort before the coaster shot up the first incline. The wind rushed past you, the clanking of the tracks beneath adding to the anticipation. Then, the drop.

Laura let out a yell—not quite a scream, but close enough.

You threw your hands up, laughing. “Told you!”

“Shut up!”

The ride twisted and turned, the loops pulling at your stomach in a way that was both exhilarating and oddly grounding. For those few minutes, there was no running, no fighting—just pure, unfiltered fun.

When the ride finally slowed, Laura’s breathing was slightly heavier, her face flushed from the rush. You grinned at her. “Admit it, that was fun.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

As you stepped off the ride and made your way back into the park, Laura bumped her shoulder against yours. “Okay, you pick the next one.”

You took another bite of your churro, already eyeing the spinning teacups. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

---

The fireworks exploded in bursts of color, painting the night sky over Disneyland. The crowd around you and Laura watched in awe, gasps and murmurs of excitement filling the air. Laura sat cross-legged on the grass, her arms resting on her knees as she stared up at the display.

"You know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "when I was your age, I never got to do this kind of thing."

Laura glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "Watch fireworks?"

"Have a normal night," you corrected. You leaned back on your hands, feeling the cool grass beneath your palms. "Theme parks, vacations, junk food... not exactly things you get when you're trained to kill people before you hit puberty."

Laura hummed in acknowledgment, turning her gaze back to the sky. "Guess we’ve got that in common."

You exhaled through your nose, nodding. "Yeah. But at least we’re here now."

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the fireworks crackle above her. Then, almost reluctantly, she said, "It’s weird."

"What is?"

"Not having to fight," she admitted. "Being... normal."

You tilted your head, watching her carefully. "Do you like it?"

Laura shrugged, pulling at a loose thread on her jeans. "Yeah. I think so."

You smiled, though she wasn’t looking at you. "Good."

The fireworks continued, shimmering reflections dancing across Laura’s sunglasses. The two of you sat in easy silence, the kind that didn’t need filling.

Eventually, Laura spoke again, quieter this time. "How did you and dad get together?”

You glanced at Laura, the question catching you off guard. She was still watching the fireworks, her expression neutral, but you knew her well enough to recognize when she was fishing for something.

You took a slow breath, leaning back on your hands. "That’s kind of a long story, kid."

Laura shrugged. "We’ve got time."

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, I guess we do."

For a moment, you just watched the bursts of color in the sky, letting the memories settle in before you spoke. "When Ororo first brought me to the mansion I had heard stories of the X-Men—and of the Wolverine. I kinda hated them all at first, how they were able to live an almost normal life even though they were all mutants.”

You shrugged, “took me a while to get used to them—to tolerate them. Took me the longest to get used to Logan though.”

Laura glanced at you, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. "Why?"

You let out a short breath, watching the last of the fireworks fade into the sky. “From the second I arrived he was always… there. Not in a ‘grumpy old man’ way like I thought he would be, but he would save me a spot for dinner, did the chores I didn’t want to do that Scott assigned me. Hell, he was the first person to show me Star Wars."

Laura turned her head toward you, adjusting her sunglasses. “Wait. You had never seen Star Wars before?”

You smirked. “Believe it or not, I had other things to do growing up.”

Laura hummed in response. After a moment, she said, “So, was that when you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That you loved him.”

You hesitated, watching as a little girl in a princess dress skipped past, holding her father’s hand.

“No,” you said finally. “Not then.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Then when?”

You thought about that for a second. “I don’t know. I guess all the gestures caught up to me. The way he wasn’t afraid to be around me like some of the others were. It wasn’t until one night when I snapped at him, asking him why he had been doing all this that he confessed.”

Laura shifted slightly, crossing her arms over her knees. "Confessed?"

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "Yeah. It wasn’t some big romantic moment. It was just… him being honest. Told me he wasn’t the type to say things out loud unless they meant something. Said he didn’t expect me to feel the same, but that he wasn’t gonna pretend he didn’t care."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And… I kissed him," you admitted, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Told him he was an idiot for waiting so long to say it."

Laura scoffed. "Sounds about right."

You tilted your head, glancing at her. "What, you expected some fairytale confession? A love letter? Logan wasn’t that type of guy."

Laura shook her head. "No, I just… I don’t know. It’s weird thinking of him like that. Like, all soft."

"He wasn’t soft," you corrected. "He was still stubborn as hell, still grumpy, still fought me on just about everything. But he never made me doubt how he felt."

Laura was quiet for a moment, looking back up at the sky. "Guess that’s what matters."

"Yeah," you said softly, following her gaze. "It is."

A comfortable silence settled between you as the last of the fireworks fizzled out, leaving nothing but smoke trails and the distant hum of the park.

"So," Laura said after a moment, "if he never said anything that night, do you think you would've?"

You thought about that, your fingers tapping against your knee. "Eventually. But he beat me to it."

Laura nodded, processing that. "Good thing he did."

You smiled slightly. "Yeah. It was."

Another pause. Then, in a quieter voice, Laura asked, "Do you think you'd ever—" She stopped herself, shaking her head.

You turned to her. "What?"

"Nothing."

You studied her for a second before letting it go. Instead, you nudged her shoulder. "C'mon, we've got one last ride before the park closes. You promised I got to pick the next one."

Laura groaned but got to her feet anyway. "If it’s the teacups, I’m never forgiving you."

You grinned, standing up. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

As the two of you made your way through the thinning crowd, Laura side-eyed you. "You know, for someone who says they don’t like talking about the past, you sure didn’t shut up about it."

You shrugged. "Maybe you caught me in a good mood."

Laura smirked. "Or maybe you just like remembering the good parts."

You didn’t respond to that. You didn’t have to.

Because maybe she was right.

---

After coming back from Disneyland the lightness didn’t leave. Maybe because it was the first ‘normal’ thing you two had done in months—maybe ever. Just a mother and daughter enjoying their time together.

The grocery store was quiet for a weekday afternoon—just the usual crowd of retirees, moms wrangling their toddlers, and bored cashiers going through the motions. You moved through the aisles quickly, grabbing the essentials: eggs, bread, milk, and way too many snacks to keep up with Laura’s ridiculous metabolism.

You checked your list, crossing off the last item, before making your way toward the checkout. As you tossed the groceries onto the conveyor belt, you let yourself breathe. Things were steady. Normal.

Laura was getting comfortable, and, for the first time in a long time, so were you.

It wasn’t permanent—you knew that much. But for now, it was enough.

You grabbed a carton of ice cream, but something made you pause. That feeling. The faintest prickle at the back of your neck. The one that always hit when someone was watching you.

Cautiously, you moved closer to a nearby Employees Only doorway, keeping your expression neutral as you reached for a yogurt on the shelf. You adjusted your grip on the container, using the reflective surface of the glass door to scan the store behind you.

There.

A figure standing near the magazine rack, pretending to skim through an issue of Sports Illustrated. Too broad-shouldered to be just any guy, too stiff to be casual. You knew that build. That stance.

Logan.

Your stomach clenched, but you kept your movements easy, natural. It didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t still be here. You had been gone for days—long enough that he should’ve moved on, left Florida entirely. You had given him nothing to follow. No trail, no leads.

So how the hell did he find you?

You put the yogurt back, pretending to consider a different brand. The reflection shifted—Logan wasn’t at the magazine rack anymore. He was moving. Closer.

Before you could react, a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the Employees Only door.

Big mistake.

Years of training kicked in before you even thought about it. You twisted sharply, breaking the grip, and slammed the person into the wall inside the backroom. Your dagger was out in a flash, pressed firmly against their throat.

Logan.

His jaw was tight, eyes sharp but not surprised. He barely reacted to the blade at his neck, just met your gaze with that same unreadable expression.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

Your grip on the dagger tightened. “I should gut you for grabbing me like that.”

Logan arched a brow. “Go ahead. Might be the only way to get rid of me at this point.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, pissed but not at him. At yourself. Because you should’ve known he’d find you. You should’ve been more careful.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your voice low.

Logan smirked slightly, like the answer was obvious. “Lookin’ for you.”

“Try again.”

He held your stare, his throat moving slightly under the blade. “Not here to fight, darlin’. Just talk.”

You scoffed. “That why you dragged me back here? Didn’t exactly scream ‘peaceful conversation.’”

“You were gonna bolt.”

“Damn right I was.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, his patience clearly thinning. “Can you put the knife down?”

You hesitated, then pressed it a little harder—not enough to break the skin, but enough to prove a point. “Give me one good reason.”

Logan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“That’s not a reason.”

He sighed, then, softer this time, “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Your stomach twisted, but you ignored it, stepping back as you lowered the dagger. Logan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if he’d been expecting you to actually use it.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you shot back. “Because if you don’t explain yourself in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna drag your ass out of here and dump you in a very public place.”

Logan smirked, but there was something tired beneath it. “You sayin’ I can’t handle a crowd?”

“I’m sayin’ I don’t want to deal with security after I kick your ass in front of an audience.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, then leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Been lookin’ for you,” he admitted. “Figured you wouldn’t make it easy, but damn, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t know I owed you a trail to follow.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, something flickering in his eyes. “You don’t. But that doesn’t mean I was just gonna let you disappear.”

Your fingers curled against your biceps. “Why not? That was the whole point of leaving, Logan.”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t think you actually wanna run.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know me.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Really? ‘Cause anytime your frustrated with me you get this,” Logan gently traced your skin with his thumb, “little crease between your brows—”

You grabbed his wrist, peeling it away from your face, your grip firm but careful. Logan didn’t resist, just watched you, his expression unreadable. His hand was rough, calloused—familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“You don’t get to do that,” you said, voice low.

Logan tilted his head. “Do what?”

“Touch me like that.” You let go of his wrist, stepping back. “Like you know me.”

Logan let out a short breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I do know you.”

“No,” you corrected. “You know her.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he’d argue. Instead, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Maybe I don’t know this you. But I know enough.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?”

Logan’s eyes flickered over you, his expression softer now, more cautious. “I know you’re scared.”

Your stomach twisted. “Of you?”

“No,” he said simply. “Of this.”

You swallowed, your nails digging into your arms. “You’re reaching.”

Logan’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Am I?”

You shook your head, turning toward the exit. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Yeah, you are,” Logan said, and you felt his presence behind you before he even moved. He wasn’t blocking your way, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the weight of his stare. “You can run all you want, sweetheart, but I’ll still be here.”

You gritted your teeth, turning on him. “Why?”

Logan held your gaze, his voice steady. “Because I don’t think you want to leave.”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Don’t I?” He stepped closer, just enough to make your breath hitch. “If you really wanted to disappear, you would’ve done it by now. You know how. Hell, you’ve done it before. But you didn’t.”

“I took Laura to Disneyland,” you shot back. “Not exactly the best place to fall off the grid.”

Logan’s brow arched. “You sure that’s all it was?”

You hated how easily he was reading you—how he saw right through the excuses. He wasn’t wrong. You could’ve taken Laura anywhere. Could’ve changed your names again, disappeared into some far-off city where no one would find you. But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed just close enough. Close enough for him to find you.

Logan’s voice softened. “You keep tellin’ yourself you don’t want this, but you’re still here.”

Your throat tightened. “And what about you?”

Logan’s jaw ticked. “What about me?”

“You followed me,” you said. “I told you I was leaving. I told you I was done. And yet here you are.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, his gaze locked onto yours. “Yeah. Here I am.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything you weren’t saying. You hated the way your chest ached, the way his presence felt—not just familiar, but right. And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You should’ve left.”

Logan didn’t flinch. “So should you.”

You clenched your jaw, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. This was dangerous. Not because Logan was a threat, but because he wasn’t. Because for the first time in a long time, someone had chased after you—and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Logan stepped back, giving you space. His expression was unreadable again, but his voice was softer this time. “I’m not gonna force you to stay.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet sigh. “But I’m not gonna pretend I don’t give a damn, either.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you turned, pushing the exit door open.

You didn’t look back.

But Logan didn’t stop you.

And somehow, that made it worse.

---

You brought the bags of groceries inside, the faint smell of lemon cleaner hitting your nose as you made your way to the kitchen. Laura was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through Netflix with the kind of lazy ease only she could manage.

“You clean?” you asked, setting the bags on the counter.

“Obviously,” she muttered, not looking away from the screen.

You arched a brow, glancing around. The place did look cleaner—the floors weren’t covered in her usual mess of books and abandoned socks, and the kitchen counter was actually visible.

“Wow,” you said, pulling out a carton of eggs. “Guess Disneyland really did change you.”

Laura scoffed. “I just got bored.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you started putting things away. “Whatever you say, muñeca.”

She finally glanced over, eyes narrowing. “You were gone a while.”

“Traffic,” you lied easily, shoving a loaf of bread into the cabinet.

Laura sat up, crossing her legs. “Liar.”

You shot her a look. “Excuse me?”

She tilted her head, studying you like she could see straight through you—which, knowing her, she probably could. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on the milk you were putting in the fridge.

Laura sighed, rubbing her face. “God. And you didn’t deck him?”

“I didn’t exactly have time,” you muttered, shutting the fridge door with more force than necessary.

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, turning to lean against the counter. “He was at the store. He grabbed me. We talked.”

Laura’s brows lifted. “He grabbed you?”

You waved a hand. “Not like that. He pulled me into a back room.”

“That sounds worse.”

“It wasn’t.” You exhaled, crossing your arms. “He just… wanted to talk.”

Laura scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “Right. Because Logan’s known for his communication skills.”

You smirked. “Yeah, well. He tried.”

Laura studied you again, her expression unreadable. “And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say?”

You hesitated, running your tongue along your teeth before answering. “That I don’t really want to run.”

Laura huffed a quiet laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

Your jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

She shrugged. “Never is.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here. He’ll move on.”

Laura hummed like she didn’t quite believe that. “If you say so.”

You pushed off the counter, deciding this conversation was over. “Go set the table. I’ll make dinner.”

Laura didn’t argue, just stood up and stretched before heading toward the kitchen. As she passed, she muttered, “You should’ve decked him.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Maybe next time.”

---

Logan was right—he didn’t leave. But he didn’t force you either.

You assumed he learned your schedule because for the next few weeks he was there, always in the background. After work he’d lean against his truck across the street from the school.

When you went grocery shopping he was there, following from a distance.

remember that there is a second part to this!!

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt. 5 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: Fluff, emotional intimacy, soft yet passionate smut (18+), deep yearning, mutual pining finally paying off, and excessive tenderness. 🥹💛

Chapter Summary: A first date years in the making—filled with warmth, nostalgia, and the quiet certainty of something undeniable. As the night unfolds, hesitation gives way to longing, and love finally finds its way home

Word Count: 3.3K

a/n: now i know i said that i hate writing series' but this is different, this feels like a love letter to everything they’ve built and there's one more chapter left to go. Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3 & Pt 4

He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head at his own reflection. It wasn’t like this was the first time he was seeing her. He had spent years by her side, watched her grow, laughed with her, held her when she cried. And yet, this—this—felt different. It was different.

Because tonight, she wasn’t just his best friend. She was his.

Aaron ran a hand down his face before glancing at his phone. No new messages. He checked the time—still early, but not early enough to be standing in his bedroom like an idiot, overthinking every possible outcome.

Would the night go smoothly? Would she regret this? Would he?

No. Not a chance in hell.

The moment she had kissed him back, the moment she had whispered so have I, every lingering doubt had been silenced.

Still, the nerves remained.

With a sigh, he grabbed his cologne, spritzing it lightly before second-guessing and reaching for a different bottle instead.

His phone buzzed. A call from Marcus.

Aaron swiped to answer, putting him on speaker as he continued getting ready.

“Yo, what’s up?”

“Should be asking you that,” Marcus said, amusement lacing his tone. “You good?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Marcus scoffed. “Bro, I called to ask if you wanted to grab a drink, and you sounded like you were pacing a hole in your floor. And now I hear you fussing over something. What, your hair not curling the way you like?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Man, shut up.”

A beat of silence. Then, Marcus hummed knowingly. “Ohhh. Wait. Wait.” He laughed. “It’s the date, isn’t it?”

Aaron didn’t respond, but that only made Marcus double down.

“Wow. You’ve been friends with this woman for years, and now you’re stressing over cologne? Damn, bro.”

“I’m not stressing.”

Marcus outright cackled. “Right. And I’m about to get signed to the Lakers.”

Aaron huffed, setting the cologne down with a thud.

Marcus’ voice softened, though the teasing edge remained. “Look, man. It’s her. You’ve already won. Just be yourself.”

Aaron exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face.

Marcus was right. He didn’t need to prove anything to her. She already knew him—every piece of him.

But deep down, he still knew—this wasn’t just another date.

It was the date.

The one that changed everything.

He picked up a small velvet box from his nightstand, flipping it open to reveal the delicate silver bracelet inside. It wasn’t flashy, wasn’t extravagant, but it meant something. Inside the band, a date was engraved—the day they had met.

A reminder that, no matter what, she had always been the best thing to happen to him.

“Aaron?” Marcus’ voice pulled him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he said, snapping the box shut. “I gotta go.”

Marcus chuckled. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, hung up, grabbed his keys, and exhaled once more before heading out the door.

She had changed her outfit three times.

First, a sleek black dress. Too formal.

Then, a casual top and jeans. Too relaxed.

Her hands trembled slightly as she held up another dress, scrutinising it under the soft glow of her bedroom light. Too casual? Too much? Too desperate?

She sighed, tossing it onto the growing pile on her bed.

Now, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at the soft, figure-hugging dress she had finally settled on. It was perfect—hopefully. The colour caught the corner of her eye, unlocking a memory. ‘You should wear that more often’, Aaron had once told her offhandedly, his voice warm with something she hadn’t dared to name at the time. Looks good on you. She swallowed, smoothing her hands over the fabric. Maybe, just maybe, he’d meant more than she realised.

This wasn’t just any date.

Her heart clenched at the thought.

Every other date before this had been easy. Simple. She had gone in knowing how it would end, whether it was with polite goodbyes or the quiet realisation that there was nothing there to build on.

But this?

This was Aaron.

Her best friend. The one person who had seen her at every stage of life and somehow still looked at her like she was everything.

She caught her reflection in the mirror, eyes scanning over the outfit she’d finally settled on. The soft fabric draped perfectly, highlighting her figure without trying too hard. It’s just Aaron, she told herself, smoothing her hands down her sides. Just Aaron.

So why was she still second-guessing?

Her phone vibrated.

Aisha.

Breathe, babe. He already loves you—this is just a formality.

YN let out a small, breathy laugh, her fingers tightening around the phone.

Loves me.

Her stomach twisted—not in fear, but in something deeper. A longing, an ache that had always been there, buried beneath logic and hesitation.

Because Aisha was right.

She had known it for a while now, in the way Aaron looked at her, in the way he spoke to her, in the way he had always been there. This wasn’t just a first date. This was a beginning.

She exhaled, shaking off the nerves. Then, smiling to herself, she sent back a simple response:

I know.

And for the first time that evening, she felt ready.

Aaron stood outside her door, rolling his shoulders as if that would ease the tension coiled in his body. The moment he lifted his hand to knock, the door swung open, revealing her.

And for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

She was stunning. The soft, figure-hugging dress—the one he’d offhandedly complimented months ago—wrapped around her body like it had been made for her. The colour made his chest ache, because, of course, she remembered.

Of course, she wore it for him.

Her lips parted as if to say something, but words seemed to fail them both. A slow smile tugged at his lips, his voice lower than he intended.

“You look… incredible.”

She glanced away, smoothing her hand over the fabric, pretending she didn’t feel the heat spreading up her neck. “You clean up nice yourself.”

Aaron chuckled, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

The drive was easy, filled with light teasing and an undercurrent of anticipation neither of them acknowledged. When he pulled up to the restaurant, she blinked in surprise.

“This place—”

“—we talked about coming here for years,” he finished, watching her reaction closely. “Figured it was about time we made it happen.”

She turned to him fully, eyes warm with something unreadable. “You really remembered that?”

Aaron scoffed, feigning offense. “You think I don’t listen when you talk?”

“I think you’re scarily good at remembering things I don’t even remember saying.”

He smirked. “Some things are worth remembering.”

The night unfolded like a memory they hadn’t lived yet. Conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, stolen glances, and quiet moments that spoke louder than words.

At one point, their hands brushed on the table, neither of them moving away. The warmth of his skin against hers sent a hum through her veins.

“I was thinking earlier,” Aaron said, his voice dipping into something softer, “about all the times I almost told you.”

She tilted her head. “Told me what?”

“That I was in love with you.”

Her breath caught.

Aaron smiled, small and knowing. “You probably didn’t notice, but there were so many moments when I wanted to say something. Like the time you got that job offer you were so nervous about, and I took you out to celebrate? That night felt more like a date than any date I’d ever been on.”

She thought back to that evening—how he’d made her feel like the only person in the room, the way he’d looked at her across the table, like she was something precious.

She swallowed. “I remember.”

“And then there was your birthday last year,” he continued, voice dipping lower, like a confession meant only for her ears. “We were standing outside your place, and you hugged me goodnight. I swear, I almost didn’t let go.”

She let out a shaky breath, eyes searching his.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” he admitted. “But if I’m being honest? I was ruining myself by pretending I didn’t feel this way.”

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and full of meaning.

She reached across the table, lacing her fingers through his. “You’re not ruining anything.”

Aaron exhaled, squeezing her hand. “Good.”

The drive back was filled with that same quiet warmth, but there was something else simmering beneath the surface. Something unspoken but impossible to ignore.

As they pulled up outside her place, she turned to him, smirking. “You really wore cologne just for me, huh?”

Aaron scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Mm. Marcus told me you were stressing over it.”

He groaned, shaking his head. “That man has no loyalty.”

She laughed, unbuckling her seatbelt. “It’s cute, though.”

Aaron hummed. “You calling me cute?”

“I said it’s cute. Not you.”

He arched a brow. “That so?”

Before she could react, he moved swiftly—unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning in, caging her against the car door.

The playful banter died between them, replaced by something heavier.

His face was inches from hers, his thumb grazing the curve of her jaw. He tilted his head, studying her.

Their breaths mingled in the small space between them.

Her heart hammered.

Not yet.

He didn’t say it out loud, but she heard it anyway.

He exhaled sharply, dropping his hand and leaning back. “Go inside, sweetheart.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against the door handle.

Then, she turned back to face him.

“Aaron?”

He was still watching her, still gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

She hesitated, then—softly, carefully—said, “Come inside. Just for a little while.”

Aaron’s breath hitched. For a split second, she thought he might say no. But then, without a word, he shut off the engine and got out.

Inside, the energy between them shifted again—easier, lighter. She kicked off her heels, sighing as she wiggled her toes, and Aaron chuckled, shaking his head.

“Don’t laugh,” she murmured, sinking onto the couch, stretching her legs beneath her. “I survived a whole evening in those.”

Aaron smirked, settling into the chair across from her, watching her like he was memorising every little thing—the way she tucked her legs up, the way she absently played with the hem of her dress, the way her face softened now that she was home.

“You’re staring,” she pointed out, tilting her head.

“I know.”

He didn’t even try to deny it.

They fell into conversation easily, reminiscing, sharing old memories that now felt different—charged with the weight of everything they had yet to say.

"You remember that trip we all took? The one where Marcus swore he could build a fire from scratch?" she mused, laughing softly.

Aaron grinned. “You mean the one where he nearly burned off his eyebrows?”

She snorted. "And you were the one who had to step in and actually get the fire going."

He shrugged, feigning modesty. "What can I say? I like fixing things."

Her laughter softened, fading into something quieter.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. “I like this.”

She blinked. “Like what?”

“This. Us.”

Her heart thumped against her ribs. "Me too."

The words sat between them, gentle but weighted.

She barely noticed the way he had shifted closer.

Barely noticed the way her own body had angled toward him.

Then, as the silence stretched, he reached for her hand, his thumb grazing over her knuckles.

The world quieted.

His voice, low and rough with something deep, broke the stillness.

“I meant what I said.”

Her breath caught.

“I don’t just want tonight,” he murmured. “I want all of it.”

A slow warmth unfurled in her chest. She had spent so long holding back, convincing herself this wasn’t possible. That she couldn’t have him, not like this.

But looking at him now—his stormy eyes filled with something so sure, so certain—she finally let herself believe it.

She laced her fingers through his and exhaled, steady.

“Then take it.”

The first kiss inside her apartment had been different.

Not rushed, not desperate—deliberate.

A slow, deep, drawn-out claiming.

Aaron kissed her like he was memorising her. Like he was tracing each curve, each shiver, each breath to commit it all to memory. His hands skimmed her waist, mapping the warmth of her skin beneath her dress, but there was no urgency, no rush to take.

It was patience. It was devotion. It was this is where I’ve always belonged.

She felt it in the way his lips moved against hers, in the way his breath stuttered slightly when she pressed closer, her nails dragging lightly over the short hair at the nape of his neck.

When they broke apart, Aaron rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven.

“Are you sure?” His voice was low, rough, barely more than a whisper.

She cupped his face, running her thumb over the curve of his jaw. “Aaron,” she murmured, “I’ve always been sure.”

A quiet exhale left his lips, like he had been waiting for this confirmation all his life. He turned his head, pressing a reverent kiss to her palm, then to her fingertips, then to the inside of her wrist, lingering there like he was giving thanks.

When he guided her backward, toward the bedroom, it wasn’t urgent—it was unspoken understanding.

He needed to see her. All of her.

His fingers trailed over the zipper of her dress, undoing it with aching slowness. Every inch of revealed skin was met with his lips, soft and unhurried. When the fabric slipped down her body, pooling at her feet, he pulled back slightly, eyes dragging over her frame like she was something divine.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, voice thick with awe.

And when she let him—when she stood there, bare before him, without hesitation or doubt—his expression softened into something almost reverent.

Aaron reached out, fingertips ghosting down the path of a stretch mark along her hip, tracing over the swell of her curves like he was committing each one to memory. His gaze flickered up to hers, something unreadable swirling behind those eyes.

“You’re breathtaking.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest, and before she could reply, his lips were on her again, guiding her toward the bed, their bodies moving as if they had done this a thousand times in another life.

He took his time, learning her in a way neither of them had ever allowed before. Every touch was measured, every kiss purposeful. When his lips found the inside of her thigh, he let them linger, inhaling softly, as if he were breathing her in.

He didn’t rush.

He savoured.

When his mouth finally met her, her fingers twisted into the sheets, a gasp spilling from her lips that made Aaron groan against her. He gripped her thighs, anchoring her to him, unwilling to let her escape the pleasure unravelling between them.

“Aaron,” she choked out, barely able to form words.

His hands squeezed her thighs, keeping her still as his mouth worked her over with slow, intoxicating precision.

“Look at me,” he murmured against her, voice dark and commanding.

Her head lifted, dazed, locking onto his gaze.

The sight alone nearly undid her.

He needed her to see this. To see him. To see how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her.

And when he finally kissed his way back up her body, settling between her legs, her breath hitched at the feeling of him pressed against her, solid and unyielding.

Aaron exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers, voice shaking.

“I’m not rushing this,” he whispered. “I’ve waited too damn long.”

His movements were slow, deliberate, filled with a reverence that made her chest ache.

When he finally sank into her, it wasn’t just the pleasure that stole her breath—it was the emotion behind it.

This wasn’t just about need.

This was everything.

His lips found hers again, swallowing the soft moan that spilled from her throat, his hands exploring her body with a kind of tenderness that left her undone. He moved with an aching slowness, rolling his hips against hers in a way that made her toes curl.

Her arms wrapped around his back, pulling him impossibly closer, grounding herself in his warmth, his scent, the way he whispered her name like it was sacred.

“I love you.”

The words came unbidden, but neither of them flinched.

Because this had never been a question.

Her hand found his cheek, guiding his lips back to hers, pouring everything into that kiss.

“I love you too.”

Aaron’s breath shuddered as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing kisses to her skin between whispered words of devotion.

Their rhythm never faltered.

Their love never wavered.

And when she finally fell apart beneath him, when her body trembled with the force of it, Aaron followed her over the edge, his grip tightening like he never wanted to let go.

And he wouldn’t.

Not now.

Not ever.

The room was quiet, save for the steady hum of their breathing.

No words were needed.

Aaron lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily tracing patterns along the curve of her spine. She lay draped over him, cheek pressed against his chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic beat of his heart.

She had never felt safer.

His fingers found her hair, playing with the soft curls with an absentminded tenderness. He let out a long, contented sigh, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep and satisfaction.

“We’re gonna be insufferable to everyone after this.”

She laughed against his skin, her body shaking slightly with the movement. “Oh, absolutely.”

Aaron grinned, tilting his head down to press a kiss into her hair. “Marcus is never gonna let me hear the end of this.”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes, amusement dancing in her own. “Aisha’s been rooting for this since the dawn of time. She might actually cry.”

Aaron chuckled, his fingertips skimming along the dip of her waist. “They were right, though.”

She raised a brow. “About what?”

His gaze softened, his hand stilling over her hip. “About us.”

She swallowed, her heart doing something traitorous in her chest.

Aaron exhaled, shaking his head with a fond smirk. “Remember when we swore we’d never date within the friend group?”

She groaned, burying her face in his chest. “God, we were so adamant.”

“We thought it would be messy.”

She turned her face just enough so he could hear the teasing smile in her voice. “Well… you were pretty messy about it.”

Aaron scoffed, eyes narrowing playfully. “Excuse me?”

She grinned, propping herself up on his chest, her fingers toying with the ends of his curls. “The brooding? The longing stares? The dramatic internal monologues?”

Aaron grabbed her wrist, flipping them effortlessly so she was beneath him again, pinned to the sheets. “You like the way I look at you, though.”

Her breath caught as his gaze swept over her, full of warmth, of something deeper. “Yeah,” she murmured, voice softer now. “I do.”

Aaron dipped his head, kissing her forehead, her cheek, the tip of her nose, before finally brushing his lips over hers in a slow, lingering kiss.

When he pulled back, his thumb ran over the curve of her jaw, tracing it lightly.

“I’ve got you. Always.”

Her heart squeezed, her fingers curling into his back, holding him closer.

They had spent so many years orbiting around each other, lingering at the edge of almost. But now, there was no more hesitation, no more waiting.

They had each other.

And this?

This was only the beginning.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 67

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,645ish

Summary: The next few days are full of soft moments that you want to keep close forever.

Notes: Please send in reactions! There’s only 5 more chapters after this. HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan didn’t get much sleep that night, replaying your date in his head. It went better than he had hoped and his cheek still tingled where you had kissed it. He went to work in the morning, where it wasn’t an easy day. Things were going wrong left and right, only furthering his exhaustion. When he finally arrived home, Wade had left a note for him saying that he was over at your place for dinner and a movie. The urge to see you quickly beat out the urge to go straight to bed. Logan mustered up the energy to quickly clean up and head over to your apartment.

Logan entered only to be met with the smell of good food and laughter. His tense and tired muscles relaxed instantly. Wade and Laura are sitting at the set table with you finishing up dinner in the kitchen.

“Lo!” You greeted, noticing him coming further into the apartment. You smiled widely at him.

“Hey, doll,” he replied with a tired smile. His body was on autopilot, immediately heading straight over to you. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m all done, but thanks for the offer. Why don’t you go sit down?” You didn’t even think twice about it when your hand came up to his cheek and your thumb began rubbing against it. “You look tired. Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, too focused on your hand against his face. His head leaned into your touch.

“Uh… do you two want us to leave you alone?” Laura asked, breaking the bubble that had fell over the two of you.

“Please don’t start having sex right here,” Wade added. “None of us are ready for that.”

You quickly ripped your hand off of Logan and looked away bashfully. Logan glared at Wade before moving to sit down at the table. You quickly gathered up the rest of the food and placed it on the table before sitting down as well.

Dinner was full of light chatter and stolen glances between you and Logan. Before you knew it, dinner was done and cleaned up and you and Logan were sharing the couch while the movie was playing. You kept glancing over at Logan, whose head was bobbing as he fought to keep his eyes open. You leaned over and placed a hand on his arm, catching his attention immediately.

“Why do you go to bed?” You whispered, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled with a slight shake of her head.

“Lo.”

“I’m not tired, doll.”

“Mhm,” you rose an unbelieving brow at him. “Lay down.”

“What?”

You tugged at his arm. “Lay down.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, studying you to make sure that you were truly okay with it. He saw nothing but sincerity. Slowly, be moved closer and laid down on the couch. His head rested carefully on your legs while his legs came up  and curled on the couch the best they could. With a slight tremble to your hands, they came up and began carefully carding through Logan’s hair. His breath hitched at the feeling of your fingers in his hair and against his scalp. 

As you continued, Logan couldn’t fight to keep his eyes open any longer. You smiled softly down at him when you saw him finally give into the much needed rest. What you both failed to notice was that Wade and Laura had stopped watching the movie and were focused on the two of you. They kept eyeing each other with large grins on their faces.

Your focused stayed on Logan for the remainder of the movie. You realized with his face so relaxed how much you loved the way his face wrinkled with different emotions. How his crows feet got more prominent when he was smiling and laughing, but now they seemed non-existent. Your thumb brushed against where his crows feet normally showed. Logan was so… handsome. So… pretty. It was unfair that he was that way. You always had believed that, even with your husband. You were realizing how lucky you were to get to appreciate another Logan like this.

The movie ended before you knew it and it was time to go to bed. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to Logan’s head.

“Wake up, Lo,” you whispered. “Movie’s over. Time to go to bed.” 

“No,” he groaned, turning so he was face down in your lap. 

You laughed. “No? What? You’re just going to sleep here tonight?”

One of his arms slipped under your legs while the other came over, holding them close. “My pillow’s nice.”

“I’m not your pillow, Lo.”

He hummed. “But you are… Just sleep right here.”

“So… I’m just gonna head home now,” Wade said, standing up from his chair. “You coming, Peanut?”

Logan huffed, too tired for this shit. “You’re gonna have to carry me to bed, darlin’.”

“What?” You laughed.

“I’m always carrying you to bed, doll. I think it’s time you return the favor.”

“How am I supposed to carry your heavy ass down the hall, Lo? You’re way stronger and heavier than me.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes. “I gotta do everythin’ round here.” He tightened his grip on your legs and stood up, throwing you over his shoulder.

“Lo—Logan!” You squealed.

“You said it was time for bed, so I’m carryin’ you to bed.”

You laughed as Logan carried you, slung over his shoulder, all the way to bed. He gently tossed you down on the bed and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, darlin’,” he cooed. “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Lo,” you whispered.

~~~

“You know, you don’t compliment her enough,” Wade stated as he threw a grape into his mouth.

“What?” Logan questioned, Wade catching him completely off guard. Logan was making breakfast, planning on inviting you and Laura over for it.

“You heard me. You don’t compliment Y/N enough.”

“I compliment her.”

“Uh, rarely.”

“Why are you bringing this up?”

“Because one of the reasons she was nervous for your first date was because she’s insecure about her scars. I tried to help but I’m not the one she wants to—“

“Wait. Insecure about her scars?”

“Yeah, our Little Flame things they make her look ugly.”

The plate of pancakes that Logan was holding fell from his grip and shattered on the floor. He didn’t think twice before he rushed out of the apartment, in nothing but some grey sweats and a white wife-beater. Logan didn’t bother knocking, just barging in. You were standing in the living room, looking for something with a simple towel wrapped around you for coverage. You jumped at the sudden intrusion, clutching the towel closer.

“Logan!” You shrieked. “What—what are you doing? Is everything alright?”

“I— Uh—You,” he was stammering, his mind spinning. Logan hated that you believed you looked ugly when he thought you were the most beautiful person in all of the multiverse. He knew that you were simply standing there in a towel, allowing more of your scars to show, but in each new scenario he saw you in, you only grew more beautiful in his eyes. “You… Doll, I—“

“Lo, are you going to pass out?” You took a few tentative steps toward him, growing concerned. “You’re breathing is off.”

“I’m fine. It just… Darlin’… Fuck. This is… Beautiful.”

“What?”

“You are beautiful.” You stood there, speechless. Logan suddenly grew incredibly embarrassed. “You’re, uh, beautiful and I… well, I thought you deserved to know.” 

Then as quick as he came, Logan was gone, leaving you in shock in the middle of the living room. Laura had witnessed the whole exchange from the hallway and stepped into the living room once Logan had closed the door.

“What the fuck was that?” Laura questioned.

“I have no idea,” you breathed out.

~~~

Logan was actively avoiding you for the rest of the day. He spent a majority of the day at work. You reached out through calls and texts, but he just ignored them. He was embarrassed about this morning. How he barged into your apartment to compliment you. But it was also bothering him that Wade seemed to know everything you needed before he did. Was Logan not actually ready to chase this relationship with you?

You were growing increasingly more concerned with the fact that Logan had been ignoring you for the day. You knew that you should probably be mad, but it truly only made you concerned. He had rushed into the apartment this morning like something was wrong, only to tell you how beautiful you were. It meant a lot to hear that from Logan, but the words were being buried by confusion.

It wasn’t a surprise when Logan didn't come home from work. You knew that he was either still working or out at a bar. You had saved him leftovers from dinner and you were currently waiting at the table to see if you could hear him coming home. His steps were unmistakable. Too heavy for the average man due to his adamantium skeleton. You quickly grabbed the leftovers from the fridge and went out into the hallway. Logan was patting at his jacket, searching for his keys.

“Lo?” You breathed out. He froze. You bit your lip as you took the few needed steps to get to his side. “I saved you dinner.” You offered him the container.

“Thanks,” he muttered, taking the container without looking at you.

“You’ve been avoiding me since this morning.”

“Been busy.”

You nodded, unbelieving. “I’ve been worried.”

Logan’s heart clenched. He didn’t ever want you to be worried about him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You placed a hand on his arm and rubbed your thumb against it. 

“Sorry about this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I’m sorry for how I went about it all. Not what I said—Never what I said.”

“So… you believe I’m beautiful?”

Logan nodded, swallowing nervously. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You gasped, eyes filling with tears. “I meant what I said this morning… I just should have gone about it a different way.”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “It was kinda… cute.” You smirked.

“Cute?”

“Yeah, big bad Wolverine barging into my apartment just to tell me I’m beautiful. It was cute…. And it meant a lot. Thank you. I really needed to hear it.”

“Then I’ll work on telling you more.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to. You deserve to hear how beautiful you are all the time.”

“You’re too kind, Logan. For a man who has been through hell, I’m so glad you’re kind.” 

You wrapped your arms around Logan and pressed yourself against him. He hugged you back and kissed your head. The two of you held each other in the hallway for a good long moment before you pulled away.

“I should let you get to bed,” you said softly. “Don’t go ignoring me tomorrow, okay?”

“Never again, doll,” he replied, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, darlin’.”

“Goodnight, Lo.”

~~~

The next Saturday rolled around and you were planning on getting the courage to see if Logan would like to go on a second date. 

“Mom!” Laura yelled for you from the kitchen as you got ready for the day. 

“What is it, kiddo?” You yelled back.

“The sink is leaking!”

“Shit.” You stopped what you were doing and hurried to the kitchen to see the sink leaking badly. You sighed. “I don’t have it in the budget to call a plumber this month.”

“Well, maybe we could call Logan? He works on cars. Pipes have to be the same thing, right?”

“I guess. I just don't want to bother him.”

“Trust me, if it’s you asking, it’s no bother.”

You looked down sheepishly. “I guess I’ll give him a call.” You pulled out your phone and pressed Logan’s contact. You bit the inside of your cheek nervously as the phone rang.

“Hey, doll,” Logan’s voice sounded from the other side of the phone.

“Hi, Lo. I’m sorry to bug—“

“You never bug me.”

“Uh, well, my sink’s leaking and I don’t really have the funds for a plumber right now and I was thinking—“

“I’ll be right over.”

Logan hung up before you could even respond. Laura was leaning against the wall, a knowing smirk on her face. Within moments, Logan was coming through the door with a toolbox and Wade on his tail. Logan had on a pair of faded jeans and a white wife-beater with a plaid thrown over it. The plaid was open and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You licked your lips before sucking in the bottom one as you checked him out.

“It’s the kitchen sink,” Laura told them as you were clearly too busy checking Logan out.

“Yes, your favorite hunky plumber and his beautiful assistant are here to save the day!” Wade exclaimed.

You spoke your head slightly, breaking yourself from the trance Logan’s appearance had put you in. Logan shot you a smile, heading straight for the kitchen sink. Wade jumped up onto the counter, swinging his legs, as Logan crouched down and opened the cabinet under the sink. It wasn’t long before you found yourself sitting at the table with a book in your hands. Though the book wasn’t your focus, it was the handsome man working under the sink. Wade smiled, watching you watching Logan. That’s when he had an idea.

When Logan turned away to look through his tool box, Wade reached down and yanked the pipe loose completely. Water began spraying everywhere.

“Ah, fuck!” Logan exclaimed, fighting through the water to stop it from ruining anything.

“I’m going to grab some towels,” you stated, rushing away.

Logan huffed once he got the water stopped. Both of his shirts were soaking wet and uncomfortable to wear. He pulled off the plaid and the wife-beater, revealing his toned torso.

“Show off,” Wade whistled. “Like she’s gonna fall for a pile of muscles. Our Little Flame is a woman of character.”

“You’re the one who broke the damn pipe,” Logan grumbled. “It’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“Here are the—oh!” You stopped at the edge of the kitchen, taking in the sight before you. You quickly grew hot, steam beginning to come off of you.

“Doll, uh, you’re heating up.”

“I…” you swallowed, unable to pull your eyes away from Logan’s toned muscles. 

“Darlin’, seriously.” Logan was unfazed by his own appearance, too worried that you were going to be in some serious pain. “You need to cool down before you hurt yourself.” He stepped forward and your eyes finally snapped up to his.

“I’m… I’m going to go run some errands.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you need a cool shower or a towel.”

You shook your head, tossing the towels at him. “I’ll be back with lunch.”

Wade laughed as you scrambled to get your things and rush out of the apartment. “Wow, Peanut,” he giggled. “You sure got Buttercup all flustered there.”

“Let’s just get this fixed, Wade,” Logan grumbled, worried about you.

~~~

When you came back with lunch, the sink was all fixed up and Logan had a shirt on.

“Thanks for fixing the sink, Lo,” you said as you laid out lunch.

“Of course, doll,” he replied, grabbing plates and utensils. “Also, in case I haven’t mentioned it today, you look really pretty today.”

You looked away bashfully. “Thanks.”

Logan hooked a finger under your chin and forced you to look at him. “Don’t gotta do that. Look away when I compliment ya. I mean every word I say.”

“I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Good. I’ll keep telling you so that you remember and hopefully one day you start believe it all.”

next chapter >

[klonnieshippersclub]

A Toast to Love and Family

Another day, another birthday celebration for Bonnie. Here's Day 2 of Bonnie being appreciated by the unexpected love of life. Consider Day 1 as the beginning of this series as these are all set in the same universe. I'm happy to introduce Ava Bennett-Mikaelson, her parents' pride, and joy. Read Part One

The former prom queen had never thought she would end up here, living a quiet life in New York with Klaus Mikaelson, of all people. After leaving Mystic Falls in the rearview mirror following her high school graduation, Bonnie never imagined that a secret romance with her greatest enemy would turn into something so… normal. They had kept their love hidden from their friends and family back home, knowing they’d never understand. But here they were, in the heart of the city, with a daughter, a home, and a new chapter they’d carved for themselves.

On this morning, Bonnie lay still beneath the covers, the sunlight filtering through the curtains. Her dreams had been heavy, the weight of her pregnancy making every movement a little slower. Yet, the sound of small feet scampering across the floor stirred her from her slumber.

“Mama’s still sleeping, Papa,” a small voice whispered, filled with both excitement and mischief. The daughter of Bonnie and Klaus was a perfect mixture of the two with her mother's eyes and her father's lips. Ava Bennett-Mikaelson tugged on Klaus’ sleeve, the monstrous man turned into a gentle giant for his child.

Klaus, standing in the doorway with a slight frown. “Breakfast? You wish for me to make breakfast?”

Ava’s face lit up, her energy too big for her small frame. “Yes, Papa! We have to surprise Mama on her birthday!”

"I’m hardly an expert in the kitchen, love.”

With a determined look, Ava handed him a tablet, her tiny fingers swiping. “We can learn, Papa! Watch YouTube with me!”

Chuckling softly, Klaus sat beside her on the couch in the living room. They found themselves watching a cooking tutorial—scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Simple, yes. But cooking was a language Klaus had never quite learned.

Lavender, Bonnie’s sleek, black cat crawled into Ava's lap. Ava giggled, her small hands gently petting Lavender’s back. “You’re so soft, Lavender,” she whispered. The cat stretched out and nuzzled against Ava’s hand.

Klaus looked over and saw Ava’s hands now covered in a thin layer of dark fur. He knew what was coming next. “Ava,” he called lightly, walking toward her. “You need to wash your hands before we cook."

“But, Papa, Lavender doesn't have germs! She's magic!”

Klaus chuckled, "No one wants to eat food with cat fur in it and magic can still have germs."

The kitchen became a symphony of chaos. The next thirty minutes were filled with flourishes of bacon grease and scrambled eggs flying a little too far from the pan. Ava giggled as she handed Klaus utensils. "I think Mama will love it, Papa!"

By the time Bonnie’s alarm clock went off, Klaus and Ava had managed to get enough food ready to fill a small army. Klaus looked at the mess they'd created and, despite the destruction, couldn't help but feel a little proud. Ava was ready to present their masterpiece. Klaus knocked on the bedroom door before entering, carefully balancing the tray in his hands.

Bonnie stirred as they entered, her eyes fluttering open. Ava immediately burst into song, singing “Happy Birthday” at the top of her lungs, off-key but full of joy. Bonnie blinked back the sleep, her heart swelling with happiness as a stray tear or two fell. She reached for her daughter, her breath catching in her throat as she pulled Ava into her arms. Her gaze flickered to Klaus, his expression unreadable but soft.

Ava’s face fell slightly. “Mama, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Bonnie laughed softly, wiping her tears. “These are happy tears, sweetheart. Mama’s just so, so happy.”

Klaus set the tray on the bed beside Bonnie and leaned over to kiss her forehead, his hands gentle despite the uncertainty he'd felt about their cooking endeavor. “Happy birthday, sweerheart,” he murmured.

Bonnie smiled up at him. “Thank you, both of you. This is perfect.”

Ava beamed proudly. “We made it just for you, Mama! Papa helped me!”

Bonnie kissed Ava’s cheek, before turning to Klaus. Her voice dropped into a playful tone. “And later, when Ava’s at her sleepover… I’ll show you just how grateful I am.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a grin. “I look forward to it.”

[keeryhours]

real love, baby - chapter three

Billy Hargrove x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Billy Hargrove Masterlist

Summary:

You have your appointment to see the baby for the first time

Warnings:

Pregnancy, shitty parents, bullying

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter! and thank you @punkrockmlchael and @the-witty-pen-name for all your help with this one 😩🙏🏻

8 weeks pregnant

Baby is the size of a raspberry

“Can you see a difference?”

You stood in front of your mirror, shirt held up under your chest to reveal your stomach. Eddie lounged back on your bed, watching you.

“I still don’t see anything,” Eddie said. “You sure there’s something in there?”

“We’ll know for sure tomorrow,” you reminded him. Your heart sped up in your chest at the thought of your first ultrasound, the thought of seeing your baby for the first time. Eddie would be taking you so you didn’t have to go alone.

“Are you excited?”

“Super excited,” you smiled. You rubbed your hand over your stomach, still nothing there. “I’m a little excited to have a bump, but also dreading it.”

“There’s no hiding from it then,” he said, hanging upside down off the side of your bed. His curls brushed against the carpet. “You ready for that?”

“No,” you admitted. “I mean, everyone at school already knows. But I’m not prepared to tell my parents.”

“I don’t blame you. That’s not going to go well.”

“Thanks,” you said sarcastically. You pulled your shirt back down, flopping down on the bed next to Eddie. “But I know. They’re going to kill me.”

“That’s probably putting it lightly,” Eddie said, sitting up to look at you. “They’re going to freak.”

“That’s why I’m waiting as long as possible to tell them.” You leaned against the headboard, feet stuck in Eddie’s lap. “Good plan or bad plan?”

“Totally foolproof, nothing can go wrong,” Eddie said. He gave you a teasing smile- you and he both knew telling your parents at any point would be a disaster, but you also knew Eddie would be there for you no matter what. “Have you talked to Billy anymore?”

“Not since 2 weeks ago when he cornered me about the abortion,” you sighed. It felt like all you did anymore was think about Billy. “He’s back to pretending I don’t exist.

“That’s so fucked,” Eddie said. He rubbed your bare legs that lay splayed across his lap. “I’m sorry. I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised, but still. He’s an ass.”

“No, I know,” you said, sinking down the bed until you were laying on your pillows. You pulled one over and hugged it across your chest. “I walked right into this one.”

“A little bit.”

You kicked Eddie, making him laugh. “You’re always so supportive and helpful and not at all judgmental, Ed.”

“Hey, I try to be,” Eddie said, laughing. At least you could laugh about it.

The next day after school, you rushed out of the building quickly. Your appointment was 30 minutes after school ended and you did not want to be late. You found Eddie waiting by the van already, keys in hand and ready to go.

“You ready, mama?” He asked as you both climbed into the van, and you gave him a look.

“Yes, I’m ready,” you said, taking a deep breath. The truth was, you were horribly nervous. You felt like you could be sick, and it was hard to breathe deeply.

“You’re going to be okay, you know that?” Eddie said, reaching over to grasp your hand with his right one. He drove the van one handed, the short drive to the doctor’s office feeling like a million years.

“I know,” you said, giving Eddie a weak smile although you didn’t quite believe yourself.

He pulled into the parking lot of the office, killing the engine of the van and turning to you. “Do you want me to go back with you?”

“Would you?” You looked at him hopefully, not wanting to go alone. You wouldn’t blame him if he felt weird about it and didn’t want to go, but you hated the idea of doing any of this pregnancy alone.

“Of course I will,” he said, squeezing your hand. “C’mon, let’s go. I got you.”

The waiting room of this doctor’s office was more cheerful than the last one. The walls were painted a bright yellow color, and there were photos of babies decorating the walls. A TV hung on one side of the room, playing a rerun of Three’s Company.

When the nurse called your name, Eddie followed you to the back. She smiled politely at you, holding the clipboard against her blue scrubs and leading you back to the exam room.

“You can change into this gown and take a seat on the exam table,” she said. “Dad, you can take one of the chairs over there.”

“Oh, I’m not-“ Eddie started to correct her, but the nurse wasn’t listening, already moving on to grabbing the blood pressure cuff.

Eddie didn’t entirely mind playing dad for the day. It was no different than the times you’d lied to his extended family that you were dating, right? He knew he wasn’t the father, but it was interesting to see what it would feel like.

The nurse went through the usual things - blood pressure, temperature, weight. She left the room when she was done, leaving you and Eddie alone in the room.

“Eddie, cut that out!” You hissed as Eddie looked through the cabinets and drawers.

“What? They wouldn’t just leave it here if they didn’t want us to take it,” Eddie said, pocketing a handful of band aids.

A few minutes later the tech walked in, greeting you both before sitting in front of the ultrasound machine. Eddie moved his chair closer to you as she put the gel on your stomach and began the examination, the screen turned away from you.

“Is…everything okay?” Eddie asked nervously, speaking the words you were too afraid to say yourself.

“Everything looks good,” she said with a kind smile. She turned the screen, and there was…a little bean shaped thing. “This is your baby. You’re measuring exactly 8 weeks.”

Your eyes went wide, taking in the sight of the little wiggling baby. It didn’t look anything like a baby yet, but you still felt unimaginably connected to it. It was a bizarre feeling. That was your baby.

“At least it’s not twins,” Eddie joked, but you were barely listening.

In that moment you felt an acute awareness of Billy’s absence. Despite the fact that Billy hadn’t had anything to do with this pregnancy and had even insisted on an abortion, you hadn’t thought much about what he was missing out on. But this? You couldn’t help but picture the blonde beside you in Eddie’s place, getting that first glimpse of his child. How he’d place his hand on your belly to feel, or maybe even talk to the baby through your belly, play them his favorite music. Every time this happened, you pictured Billy as a good father.

But he wasn’t here.

The tech clicked something on the machine, and a rhythmic whooshing sound filled the room. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. “A strong one!”

That filled you with pride- your baby was strong. It felt good to hear. You had been worried that things weren’t going well, one of the reasons you’d been dreading this appointment so badly. You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to the baby at this point.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Eddie asked.

The tech didn’t make him feel stupid for the question. “It’s still too early to tell. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a girl,” Eddie said confidently. “I just have a feeling.”

“I think it could be a boy,” you said, but you really didn’t know or mind either way. You could picture yourself with a son or a daughter. Billy would-

And there you go daydreaming again.

“Would you like some prints?” The tech asked as she wrapped up the exam, wiping the gel off your stomach. You nodded quickly - these were the first ever photos of your baby. You would have to hide them, but you wanted them. She gave you multiple copies, in case you wanted to share.

You walked out of the office feeling better than you had coming in, ultrasound photos gripped in your hand. There was no hiding from it now - there was a baby, alive and growing in your belly. Eddie kept one of the photos, claiming he was entitled to one as the godfather, a title he had awarded himself.

You were grateful for him, he had been an amazing friend to you before and during this. You had worried that he’d want nothing to do with it, that he’d be mad at you for getting yourself into this position to begin with. But he hadn’t given you any kind of judgement, only support.

If only you and Eddie loved each other as more than friends, if the rumors around school about you had been true, things might be simpler.

Theoretically, Eddie was the perfect guy for you. Best friends who never got tired of each other, same interests, attracted to each other. But you couldn’t help who you were and weren’t in love with, and you just didn’t feel that type of way about Eddie.

Yet here he was, willing to be judged alongside you without saying a single word about the truth. He was just willing to let the whole school call him names and think that he is the father of this baby, willing to walk beside you in front of the judgemental people of Hawkins. Ready to face your parents, who already hated him, when the time came just so you didn’t have to tell them the father wouldn’t be in the picture.

You didn’t understand it. But that was just Eddie.

The next day at school, you passed Billy a note in 2nd period.

“Can we talk?”

You watched as he opened the note, eyes darting up to you as he gave you an unreadable expression before folding the note back up. You weren’t sure what kind of answer that was.

After class he nodded at you to follow him into the empty science classroom, and you obeyed. Things always were on Billy’s terms.

“What?” He hissed once safely inside the locked classroom. He leaned against one of the tables. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, Billy, I didn’t change my mind.”

“Then why are you talking to me?” He asked simply.

His words stung deeply, but you didn’t dwell on them for long. “I had my first appointment yesterday. I thought you might want to know.”

You didn’t know how he was going to respond to that. Billy was always so unpredictable. He looked at you, his eyes roaming your figure. “Is it…was…everything okay?”

That was better than him blowing up. “They said everything was looking great. I’m 8 weeks and they have a strong heartbeat.”

Billy huffs something like a small laugh. Like yeah, it’s my baby, of course they’re strong. “Well that’s….good.”

You smiled softly. “Do you…want to see a picture?”

“They gave you pictures?” He asked with his brows raised. “I’ve never even seen a baby that small.”

You laughed - “It looks more like a little bean right now, but-“ you dug through your bag until you pulled out one of the prints, handing it over to Billy.

Billy took the photo from your fingers gingerly, like he was afraid he’d break something. He held it up to his face with a slight tremble in his hands, seeing the digital text on the photo - Hi mom and dad! - with an arrow pointing to the small blob.

“That’s really it?” He asked, his voice almost incredulous. “That’s the baby?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty crazy, right?”

Billy just stared at the photo. Eventually he looked up at you, his expression once again unreadable. “Can I keep this?”

“What?” The question caught you off guard.

“The picture? Can I keep it?” Billy repeated.

You did have multiple copies of the sonogram, but you were surprised he wanted one at all. “Yeah, sure,” you finally answered him, feeling like an ass for looking like you had to think about it for so long.

“How are you feeling with…everything?”

That question surprised you, too. “I’m okay. Still feeling sick and all the other usual symptoms. But nothing too bad.”

Billy nodded. It was quiet again. Then, “What do you think it’s gonna be?”

“I think it’s a boy,” you said, smiling softly. “But Eddie’s convinced it’s a girl.”

“Either way would be- wait, Eddie?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Eddie thinks it’s a girl.”

“Did he…go to the appointment with you?” There was something swirling behind his blue eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t want to go alone.”

“Oh.”

There was another minute of silence between you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think Billy was hurt. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to go,” you said finally.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t,” Billy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes, taking one between his lips. “I’ve got to get back to class.” You watched as he turned in the complete opposite direction and walked out the back door, lighting the cigarette as he left.

Billy’s mind swirled with thoughts as he walked away - that was his baby. His baby. That everyone thought belonged to Eddie. It honestly pissed him off, but it was his own fault and he knew it. He could step out right now and say he was the father, but he wouldn’t do that. He was too much of a coward.

He thought of what his father would say. He couldn’t hide this forever, he knew. It would all come out eventually. Billy dragged on his cigarette as he thought of how Neil would react. And wouldn’t he deserve it? It was his fault you were pregnant and his fault you were doing it alone. Would his dad kick him out? What would happen to you? Would he be able to get a job and help take care of you and the baby?

He was getting ahead of himself again, thinking about the what if’s of letting himself get involved. He couldn’t do that. You and that kid were better off without him. It was bad enough he passed on his genes, but there was no escaping that one now.

But did he really want to be a deadbeat dad? The type of guy who he had no respect for, and now that’s exactly who he was shaping up to be. Is this what he wanted for himself? For his kid?

When he finished the cigarette, he tossed it to the side, then folded the photo carefully and stuck it in his wallet.

Back in class, Billy ignored you again. You almost thought you dreamed the whole encounter, but the missing sonogram in your bag proved it happened. Billy had really acted like he cared. That was totally unlike him.

When Carol and Tina started whispering and giggling at you, that seemed a bit more normal. You just didn’t know what was so interesting this time.

After class they waited for you, popping their bubblegum as they leaned against their desks. “Overheard your Freak boyfriend telling his friends you saw the baby yesterday. How cute,” Carol quipped.

You ignored them, trying to walk by just as Tommy and Billy came up behind them. “What’s going on?” Billy asked.

Carol and Tina looked up at them, malicious grins on their stupid faces. “I just heard the Freaks got to see their baby yesterday. I just wanted to congratulate her.”

Tommy snickered. “How sweet.”

Billy avoided your gaze. “Carol, just leave her alone. It’s not worth it, is it?”

Carol, Tina, and Tommy all gave him a confused look. Because when has he ever cared about making fun of you?

“I just mean,” Billy said, scrambling to recover, “she’s already pregnant in high school. That’s sad enough.”

His friends laughed, and by that point they were moving on to a different conversation. The girls turned and left, Tommy and Billy following behind. You wondered what Tina would think if she knew the truth about her crush.

Eddie dropped you off at home after school, and you were disappointed to see your parents home. You made sure the sonograms were buried deeply in your bag before you got out of the van.

“Are you gonna be alright?” Eddie asked, sensing your anxiety. “D’you want me to come in with you?”

“I think that might make things worse,” you attempted to joke, even though your words were true. Your parents hated Eddie.

“Call me if you need a getaway driver,” he called as you hopped out of the van, and you smiled at him. You caught sight of his copy of the ultrasound photo stuck in his sun visor.

You took a deep breath as you walked up the front steps of the house. As long as you didn’t set them off, this didn’t have to go poorly. You could get upstairs to your room and be left alone all evening.

Your hopes were dashed when you walked inside and your dad immediately called your name. You changed course and walked into the kitchen, finding both your parents standing their looking at you, your mother nursing a glass of wine while your dad held a scotch.

“Honey, your doctor called,” your mom began.

Your blood ran cold. You thought you would be sick on the spot. This could not be happening right now, you were not ready to tell them. But they seemed…oddly calm.

“Oh yeah?” You said, gauging the situation.

“They just said your prescription for Zofran was sent to the pharmacy. Have you been feeling sick?”

You let out a breath. “Oh, yeah, a little. They said it was probably just a stomach bug.”

Your father sipped his scotch. “You’re not going to use this as an excuse to skip school, right?”

“No, sir,” you said. You knew if you didn’t speak to him that way, it would be a whole other world of trouble.

“Good,” he said, “because you want to get into a good school, don’t you? We’ve discussed this.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. Your parents had always made their expectations clear. If you didn’t get into a school they deemed appropriate, they wouldn’t be supporting you any more.

“And I saw that van driving off,” your father added. “I thought we talked about not spending any more time with people like that.”

“People like what?” You asked, knowing better but your anger snapping uncontrollably. “Eddie’s my best friend.”

“The boy sells drugs,” your mother added. “He lives in a….”

“A trailer park?” You finished for her. “Is that what you were about to say?”

“He’s dragging you down,” your father’s voice boomed. “You are too good to be hanging out with his type. Why don’t you go out with the Harrington boy? Now that’s a nice kid, respectable parents-“

“Steve doesn’t even know I exist,” you scoff. “And his friends are dicks.”

“I’m just saying,” your father continued, “you need to keep better company before you’re knocked up and stuck with your choices.”

If only he’d known how cruel his words really were, how deeply they had struck. He would probably be pleased with himself. You turned and ran up the stairs, the tears in your eyes falling whether you wanted them to or not. In the safety of your room you jumped onto your bed, sobbing into your pillows.

What the fuck were you supposed to do?

tag list

@rincallistis @holb32 @missingbillyhargrove @fandom-princess-forevermore @kenmasabg @pinklyred @seedlingghost @swiftieintheupsidedown @strangerthing93 @losingmygrasponreality @jaybbygrl

[itsnesss]

𝐏.𝐒. 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬; minho moon ( series ) O1

pairing ; minho moon x female!reader

content ; fluff, romantic tension, angst, personal conflicts, rivalry, enemies to lovers

summary ; you never imagined your life would change so much with a simple exchange. in canada, everything was predictable, but when the chance to study in seoul came, you took it. you met minho. a tall, serious guy with a cold attitude who made you feel even more out of place. from the very beginning, you hated each other. every encounter was filled with disdainful looks and harsh words. your first meeting was so uncomfortable that all you wanted was to escape his indifference. but as time went on, you realized that minho wasn’t just an obstacle—he was the beginning of something unexpected. what started with hatred and a simple fall led to a connection that made you feel more alive than ever

status ; ongoing !!

— navigation ; OO1.

author's note | if the story is to your liking donde forget to like, comment, and reblog to continue part two, thanks ᡣ𐭩

ONE ; P.S. This Isn’t the Start I Imagined

You arrived in South Korea with a mix of excitement and nervousness. From Canada, the idea of a student exchange in Seoul had always seemed exciting, but now that you were here, the reality hit you hard. The city was vast, bustling, and despite the beauty of its modern buildings and small gardens, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were really ready for this change.

The campus stretched out before you, imposing and full of students who seemed to move with a clear purpose. You walked with determination, trying not to look too disoriented, but the truth was, your head was full of questions. What would it be like to live with strangers? You knew you’d be sharing a room with three girls, but you hadn’t met them in person yet. With a sigh, you stopped in front of the door to your dorm. Before you could push it open, a sudden bump jolted you out of your thoughts.

A guy walked past you, hitting your shoulder without even bothering to apologize. You stood still, surprised by his rudeness. You watched him as he walked away with firm steps, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. His serious expression left no room for apologies or explanations. Who walks into someone without even looking back? you thought, frowning. But you shook your head and decided not to give it more thought. You hadn’t come here to be distracted by rude strangers.

You took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The shared space was more cozy than you had imagined: a small, well-lit living room, a simple kitchen, and several suitcases scattered around. Three girls were inside, and as soon as you crossed the threshold, they all turned their attention to you.

"Hi!" one of them said, looking up from her phone. Her tone was neutral, but her smile was friendly.

"Hello, I'm Juliana," added the brunette, walking up with a relaxed attitude. "Looks like you'll be our new roommate, right?"

The third girl, who was by the window, nodded slightly without much enthusiasm. "I'm Stella. Welcome."

You felt a slight relief seeing that, although a bit distant, they didn’t seem hostile.

"Yes, I’m T/N," you introduced yourself, trying to sound relaxed. "I’m from Canada. It’s a little... different here."

The girls laughed softly, sharing a knowing look.

"Don’t worry," Juliana said. "At first, it’s tough, but you get used to it."

Yuri just nodded, still focused on her phone, while Stella gave you a neutral look. There was a slight tension in the air, though you weren’t sure if it was because of your arrival or if it had existed before you entered.

Before you could think too much about it, the door to the dorm suddenly swung open. A girl burst into the room with vibrant energy, smiling confidently before frowning when she saw everyone there.

"What are you doing here? I asked for a room alone!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms.

Silence took over the room for a second.

"Seriously?" Yuri replied, looking at her with an expression that seemed to hide something more.

You watched the brief interaction between them and felt a spark of tension in the air. Kitty, as you had heard she was called, seemed sure of herself, but she was not happy with the situation.

"Yeah, I asked for a room alone because... you know, I need some space for my chaos," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Stella looked at her without saying anything, while Yuri frowned.

"But... there should only be four girls here," Yuri said, her tone dry.

You felt that the situation could get awkward, so you intervened before it escalated.

"I think I’ll go to the administration to register for classes," you announced, using the best excuse you could think of. "I’m sure I can sort out the room situation later."

Stella, who had stayed on the sidelines until then, nodded. "I need to do the same. I can accompany you."

You silently thanked her for the support. You didn’t want to face the campus confusion alone.

"I’ll go too," Kitty said determinedly. "If you don’t hurry, you’ll end up with the worst professors, and I don’t want that for anyone."

Apparently, her discontent with the room didn’t stop her from helping when it came to school.

As you walked together across campus, Kitty filled the silence with her natural enthusiasm.

"I’m from Portland," she told you. "I came here because this school is amazing, but also because I want to learn more about my mom and my family’s history."

You nodded, intrigued by her story, though you also noticed Stella was keeping quiet.

"And you, T/N?" Kitty asked, turning to you. "What brought you to Seoul?"

You took a moment to think about your answer.

"Since I was little, I wanted to study abroad, and when the opportunity came up, I didn’t hesitate," you said sincerely. "My family has always supported my dreams, and I thought this would be an incredible experience."

Kitty nodded enthusiastically, while Stella finally spoke.

"I came for an exchange program through my church," she said quietly. "They encouraged me to come because they thought it would be a growth opportunity."

You listened with curiosity, impressed by her determination.

"It seems like we all have our reasons for being here," you commented, smiling.

Kitty laughed. "Yeah, though mine is definitely more chaotic."

You arrived at the auditorium for the welcome assembly, where the director was giving his opening semester speech. You listened carefully until he mentioned something about new curfew rules.

You frowned. Curfew? You hadn’t expected the rules to be so strict. However, before you could think too much about it, the lights in the auditorium suddenly began to dim.

A man appeared on stage, accompanied by a group of dancers. The vibrant music filled the space, and the girls began to move with impressive precision.

The auditorium, which had been silent, was now filled with excited murmurs. You watched the performance in awe, unsure if this was part of the event or if someone had decided to give a surprise show.

Seoul was already proving to be a place full of surprises.

The assembly had been longer than you had anticipated, and despite everything, you felt exhausted. But just when you thought you could relax a bit, something stopped you. At the door of the auditorium, a guy was standing, leaning against the frame. He didn’t seem to be doing anything in particular, just staring down the hallway with an indifferent expression.

You didn’t see it coming, but as soon as you noticed him, something inside you tensed. He had an arrogant attitude, almost as if he owned the place. He was blocking the entrance without caring that others might need to pass. His arms were crossed, and his posture was challenging yet casual, like everyone else had to wait for him to decide to move.

When you saw that he wasn’t stepping aside, you walked up to him with determination, thinking maybe he just hadn’t noticed you. But that wasn’t the case. As soon as you were in front of him, he looked at you, but didn’t even flinch.

You sighed in annoyance, stopping in front of him and locking your gaze with his. At first, you thought he would apologize or at least step aside so you could pass, but he didn’t. Instead, he let out a low, mocking laugh.

"Are you going to stand there all day, or can you move your butt?" you spat, your tone stronger than you intended. It’s not like you were scared of him, but his attitude had already made you lose your patience.

The guy raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk appearing on his face. "Why don’t you move instead? I don’t see why we should follow the rules of courtesy if you can’t even wait."

You looked at him, confused by his attitude. Really? Was it that hard to be a little polite?

"Don’t you know how to let people through?" you reprimanded, raising your voice, completely frustrated. "Is it really that hard for you to move?"

He kept his indifferent expression, as if he couldn’t care less. "You’re the one complaining. If it bothers you so much, why don’t you do what you need to and move on? I don’t have time for this."

Your patience ran out. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Without thinking twice, you pushed his arm with your shoulder, forcing him to move so you could pass. But he didn’t even budge. Not an inch.

"What’s the deal? Is it so hard for you to move?" you muttered, furious.

He just let out a small, mocking laugh. "If it makes you feel better, go ahead," he said with complete disinterest. "I don’t care."

You glared at him and turned your back. "You’re an idiot," you muttered as you walked away.

He didn’t even bother responding. You walked quickly toward the bathroom, trying to calm yourself down. You were furious, but the worst part was that you didn’t even know his name. What kind of person is so rude for no reason? His attitude really irritated you.

When you finally reached the bathroom, you leaned against the sink, trying to breathe deeply and let the anger dissipate. What did you do to deserve that attitude? You were convinced this encounter wouldn’t be the last, and the thought of seeing him again made you even more irritated.

After what happened with the guy from the auditorium, you tried not to think about him. Things with the girls in your dorm seemed to be improving, and you were starting to adjust to the rhythm of the exchange. However, that night, something unexpected happened.

Yuri, who had been calmer during the day, invited everyone to dinner. You accepted the invitation without thinking too much. A nice meal seemed like the perfect distraction after such a long day.

The atmosphere of the restaurant was warmer than you imagined. The soft lights and white tablecloths gave it a cozy feel, and the conversation began to flow quickly among the girls. But suddenly, something caught your attention.

At a nearby table, at the back of the restaurant, you saw a familiar figure: it was him. The guy from the auditorium. Minho. He was sitting there, talking animatedly with some friends. A feeling of irritation coursed through your body again, but you tried to ignore it.

However, Kitty noticed your gaze and followed it.

"Oh, he’s over there," she said with a playful smile.

You furrowed your brow. "Who is that?"

Kitty looked at you with a somewhat evasive expression before answering. "He’s one of my friends. Nothing to worry about."

Before you could ask more, Kitty stood up and walked toward his table, with you following her without wanting to miss the opportunity to better understand the situation.

As she approached, Minho looked up. When he saw Kitty, his expression lit up with recognition and a slight smile. However, when he noticed you, his gaze shifted subtly. He looked at you with that calculating expression that irritated you so much.

Kitty, sensing the tension, spoke first.

"Guys, let me introduce you to T/N. T/N, this is Minho."

Minho barely nodded, as if it were a favor to introduce himself. "T/N, huh? How… interesting," he said, sarcasm clear in his voice. "I thought someone with more class wouldn’t be here."

You gritted your teeth and crossed your arms. "I thought someone so… full of himself would be somewhere else."

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Don’t bother me, seriously. I’m just trying not to be as… annoying as some people."

You laughed without humor. "And who told you I needed to be ‘bothered’?"

The conversation stalled at that point. Kitty, aware of the tension, changed the subject. You, though uncomfortable, had made your point clear: this guy wouldn’t be someone you’d get along with easily. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder what lay behind that dismissive attitude.

After dinner, you stood up from the table feeling a bit lighter. But as you walked toward the exit of the restaurant, you ran into something unexpected.

There, right at the entrance, was Minho. He seemed to be waiting for someone, and when he saw you arrive, his eyes met yours for a second.

"Well, what a coincidence," he said with a smile that seemed less sincere than ever. "Do you really keep crossing my path, or is it just a coincidence?"

You looked at him with disdain. "It’s just a restaurant, and you’re friends with Kitty. I don’t think this is anything more than that."

Minho took a step toward you, challenging. "Does it bother you to see me? Because I swear I’m not trying to ruin your night."

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "It doesn’t bother me to see you; I just don’t care for anything you have to offer. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather leave without having to listen to your comments."

Minho looked at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement, as if this was all a game to him.

"Oh, really? Looks like someone doesn’t know how to handle it when they run into someone like me."

You gave him a defiant smile. "Maybe not, but I don’t have to be like you to know how to be polite and not be a complete jerk."

Without waiting for his response, you kept walking. You didn’t offer an apology, but you made your boundaries clear. Minho might be an arrogant kid, but you weren’t interested in dealing with it.

tags ; @snowyblossomsx @awhrin @rkivesfilm @dangelnleif

[dramalove247]

Favorite Things: Your Sky

First, you had us at fake dating. We are huge suckers for this trope when it is well done and they did it SO well!!! This show felt like the writers sat down and said, "How can we make the most over the top main couple that is sickeningly cute and sweet with every green flag you can imagine?" Then they added the best big sister ever, doting parents with too much love... (for the most part), amazing friends, great side couples, and a freaking puppy. This show gave us serious cuteness aggression! And just when you forgot it was a Domundi series, they start delivering the spice in EPIC proportions until you can no longer remember how shy and cute their relationship started.

Here are some posts we loved (spoilers ahead):

The elevator scene is hilarious! Thanks for posting @hughungrybear

@poetry-protest-pornography post about them launching their relationship with an IG post is HILARIOUS 🤣

@iguessitsjustme pointing out some of the things we have loved about this show ❤

So many of the side characters were GREAT in this show! We loved Babe and Lee and all the friends, but Hia and Real were EPIC! @hughungrybear captured this hilarious Real and Hia moment and named it perfectly:

using sunscreen to flirt: a guide

The confession scenes/episode were so great 🥰 @soujux shared this fun background information about how the scene was changed.

Agree so much with @axibani. We LOVED that Fah is so gentle and reassuring to Rak. He wants Rak to be ready. Not only does Meunfah not pressure him, but he is constantly checking in and watching and stops the second he sees Teerak's hesitation. Absolutely love how caring and respectful Meunfah is. 100% green flag. Plus, consent is so hot.

😳 We had to make a NC 18+ appreciation post. The chemistry in this show was off the charts. The scenes were so spicy and sweet and fluffy that we decided it could only be considered Jalapeño Cotton Candy.

We absolutely loved how the desire between Muenfah and Teerak was mutually intense, like in this scene posted by @kittycaths when Teerak takes the lead. This super sweet series gave us an unexpected amount of spice and the chemistry between Thomas and Kong was wild!

Episode 12 gave us so much cute between Fah and Rak 😍 @tortibomb posted a collection of some of these sweetest moments in this compilation of GIFS.

Episode 11 was nightmare fuel and Teerak's fears were justified. Makes you wonder what made him doubt his father's love would be unconditional when it came to coming out. But as much as this blindsided us, we realize that was the actual point.

Sometimes it's the little details:

[leaawrites]

Spoil me

Noel Gallagher x fem!actress!reader

Summary: Noel takes her out to go shopping after he finished up his new album.

Warnings: fluffy, angst, swearing, (this is part four to a series, can be read as a standalone though)

Wordcount: 0.8k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Masterlist

Sitting on the sofa, switching between the different programs on the telly, she bore herself to death. Wishing for Noel to get out of his little home studio and entertain her in one way or another.

Just as she switched back to the news and groaning when they showed the same thing as a week prior, she heard the door to Noel’s studio opening. The man walking out with a grin on his face as he stepped over to her and kissed her before telling her, “get ready, we’re going out.”

“What? Where are we going?” She asked, although already standing up and walking to the closet to change out of her joggers.

“I just finished the album, and we’re gonna celebrate a little,” he said, pulling her closer in the middle of the stairs. Looking happier than ever before.

“You just finished it? That’s great, Noel. I told you, you shouldn’t pressure yourself. It’ll be great, I can feel it.” Throwing her arms around his shoulders, Noel chuckled into her neck.

“Darling, you’ve already heard every song beside the last one.”

“Still, I’ve never heard it fully. Front to back,” she insisted before continuing her way up.

“So, where are we going? How should I dress?” She asked, flicking through her rows of clothes. Looking over the stacks of tops and bottoms. Trying to remember what looked good together.

“Casual’s alright. It’s nothing too crazy,” Noel shrugged, a smile spreading on his face as he saw the glimmer of curiosity lingering in her eyes.

“Casual my ass,” she muttered as she found herself in front of the Chanel Store. Looking down the road she could make out all kinds of high fashion logos and Noel standing next to her with an excited smile on his face.

“C’mon let’s go.” He urged her inside, pulling her from the space where she seemed to be stuck in inside the store.

“Why do you seem more excited than me?” She asked with a giggle as she saw him looking at her again.

“Let’s just let me spoil you for once, love,” he insisted, walking further inside.

The whole day was spent with spending money. His money. Even when she would insist on buying something he’d have his card out faster than her already paying for a new dress or shoes or a bag.

“I can’t believe you,” she muttered as they walked out of the last store, for the first time registering just how many bags Noel was carrying for her. “You’re insane.”

“Darling, I’m not the one with expensive taste.” A familiar smirk crept on his lips.

“Right,” she said, pulling him into a kiss to make it disappear from his face. “Liam’s the one buying Gucci parkas.”

“He’s a slut for anything half decent,” Noel insisted as they walked back to the car.

Putting the bags in the trunk and climbing inside, Noel looked at her in the driver seat.

“You know we have a driver, right? You don’t always have to drive everywhere.” Looking at her like he was unsure if this was new information he just dumped on her.

Though the bored look on her face told him otherwise as she checked the rear view.

“I like driving, is that a crime?” She asked, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the busy streets of London.

“No, not at all. Was just wondering if you knew,” he said, raising his hands in surrender and laughing at her tone.

“I know and I don’t care.”

Opening the door to their house, they were both packed fully. Designer bags hanging from their arms, laughing as they stumbled through the door after Noel almost didn’t get it open.

Letting them rest by the entrance for now, they both sank down on the sofa rather messily. Legs tangled together and breaths heavy from the ‘work-out’.

“Why do you not like me spoiling you?” Noel broke the silence first, looking over at her.

“It’s not like I don’t like it, I just- I don’t know,” she answered, rolling over and laying her head on his chest.

“I think you do know, darling.” His fingers gently moved through her hair, a gentle sigh of contempt leaving her lips as she closed her eyes.

“I feel like a gold-digger of some sorts if you pay for all my stuff. I just don’t want you to feel like I’m using you.”

“I’m not.” He gently leaned down, leaving a kiss on the top of her head. His lips lingering on her hair for a second longer. “Don’t worry, I’m not thinking that.”

Grateful for the reassurance, she nodded her head. Though her eyes always trailed over to the bags by the door and the uneasy feeling came back more intense with every glance their way.

[talesfromthebandgeekmafia]

Stayed up until 1:00am to finish the last two hours of Thud!

You’d think I’d be prepared after seven books for Vimes to do something in the last act that has me on the edge of my seat holding my breath, until against all odds, the universe blinks first and I’m bowled over again by the heights of integrity one brave old terrier from the gutter can rise to. Still, I am surprised every time.

[saturnscherie]

༄ “If you suffer, I’ll suffer with you.”

In ch. 143 Yuji told himself that he knew Megumi would suffer as long as he was around because he didn't know what Sukuna wanted from Megumi. He couldn't even open his eyes to look at Megumi when he thought about him suffering.

But after Sukuna got to Megumi, Yuji said that he was suffering.

This adds so much more to his persistence in trying his hardest to stay away from him. He probably didn't want to admit it back then, but he must've had a feeling that if Megumi was in pain, he would be in pain along with him.

༄ Oh yeah and I will never get over Yuji telling Sukuna “Then let’s see if you can chew up, me and my suffering.” ♡

[dragonselkie]

// hq!! spoilers

opened the last volume of haikyuu to read and almost IMMEDIATELY started crying I cannot do this

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 66

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,520ish

Summary: You and Logan go on your first date.

Warning(s): panic attack

Notes: Please send in reactions! Can't believe there's only 6 more chapters after this... I don't think I'm ready... HELP PLAN MY NEW LOGAN SERIES HERE.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Wade watched with curiosity at Logan smiled and hummed around the apartment as he got ready for work. It was a different sight to Logan that Wade was sure no one had ever seen before.

“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Wade finally asked. “Like did you have a sexy dream last night? Or have I not peed in your Cheerios in too long? Like seriously, Music Man, there’s something going on with you.” Logan shrugged on his jacket and slipped on his boots before grabbing his keys. “Are you seriously not going to tell me?”

Logan grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. “She said yes,” he smiled dopily before stepping out of the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“Wait a damn second!” Wade scrambled up and out into the hallway. “What do you been she said yes?! Y/N? And to what?” Logan didn’t bother to turn around, heading out to work. He waved Wade off, but Wade was persistent. “Logan! You cannot leave me hanging like this. I’m just going to follow you to work and I’m just in my unicorn underwear so everyone will know that you’re roommates with someone with amazing style and I—“

“She said yes to a date, idiot.”

“WHAT?! And you didn’t immediately tell me?! I am wounded, Peanut. So what’s the plan? Oh, you could—“

Logan slammed his hand over Wade’s mouth. “I’ve got it covered, bub. Now, I got to go to work. You can bug me about it after.” He turned and left.

Wade clapped excitedly before rushing off to your apartment and bursting in. You and Laura were sitting at the table, eating breakfast. You were just about to tell Laura that you had said yes to going on a date with Logan when Wade came charging in, only in his unicorn underwear.

“My Peanut Buttercup is going on a date!” He exclaimed. He rushed over and pulled you into a hug.

“What?” Laura questioned, almost spitting out her coffee. “When?”

“Uh, last night,” you mumbled bashfully. “After he walked me home from work.”

“You should have woken me up immediately! Oh my gosh! We have so much to do to get you ready for it!”

“Please don’t make this a big deal.”

“Oh, but my sweet Buttercup,” Wade smiled, “how wrong you are.”

~~~

Your hands were trembling and growing increasingly warmer. As you looked through your closet for the perfect outfit, you began to burn through the fabric of every piece of clothing you touched. You groaned in frustration as the pain in your hands grew and little burns began to appear.

“Shit,” you muttered, plopping down on your bed.

“Have you found an outfit yet, mom?” Laura asked, peeking her head in.

You shook your head, staring down at your ugly hands. Laura noticed and came in to sit beside you.

“I’m burning all my clothes,” you whispered. “I’m so nervous… And then there’s these ugly things.” You twisted your hands around. “Logan tried to hold my hand last night… I didn’t let him… I didn’t want him to feel all this awful scars against his hands. Like, seriously, how could he think any of this was attractive? I used to be… so much prettier.”

“Mom, are you serious? You are gorgeous.”

“You’re too kind, kiddo. But I’m not anymore.”

Laura sighed, knowing that she couldn’t be of much help in this department. She leaned over and kissed the side of your head. “I’ll be right back. I’ve got an idea.”

~~~

Logan didn’t realize that he could be this nervous. As he walked home from work, he bought five different bouquets of your favorite flowers, not knowing which one was perfect enough for you. He had to make a good impression for this first date. The best impression. This could be the official start of something incredible for him and Logan couldn’t take the chance of it being anything less than perfect.

When he got home, Wade had already thrown a variety of Logan’s outfits  around the apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked, looking around at the piles of the few clothes he had.

“I’m trying to help you!” Wade replied, moving clothes from pile to pile. “But you’re clothes selection is awful. Which is why I went shopping today!” He lifted up a large garment bag up. “I had been thinking just one of your plaids but then I bought this.” He held up a nice black button up. “Which can go with these jeans and then shoes. What do you think?”

“Is that too fancy?”

“Oh, please, nothing is too fancy for our Little Flame. You want this date to be memorable, right? And of course it has to be perfect!”

Logan’s heart began hammering in his chest and his breaths were coming out in short spurts. This was a new feeling. His hands were clamming and the room was blurry. The bouquets of flowers fell to the floor.

“Hey, Peanut!” Wade called. “You still with me?”

“I… It’s…” Logan panted. His hand went to his chest as he thought his heart was going to pull itself out of his chest.

“Hey! Woah there!” Wade rushed over to Logan’s side as Logan’s knees gave out and he landed on the bouquets. “You’re having a panic attack, Peanut. You need to breathe.”

“I… can’t… what if… ruin… everything… can’t… lose… her…”

“Okay! None of that.” Wade knelt down in front of Logan and gripped Logan’s face between his hands. “You’re over thinking. Deep, slow breaths, Peanut. Follow my lead.” 

Wade dramatically led Logan through the breathing. The big bad Wolverine was having a panic attack over a first date. Normally, Wade would totally tease Logan for this but it was actually making Wade concerned. Far too long for either of their likings, Logan grew calm.

“There, Big Guy,” Wade cooed. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Logan muttered. “Thanks.”

“Good. Now,” Wade turned around and grabbed the outfit he wanted Logan to wear, “go get all cleaned up. And stop overthinking it.”

Logan nodded, getting up. His eyes fell to the ruined bouquets and his heart sank. “Shit. The flowers.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. Go.” Wade pushed Logan towards the bathroom. Logan’s shoulders were slumped as he went and disappeared into the bathroom. Wade sighed. “I do fucking everything around here.”

Wade gathered up the flowers that weren’t ruined and made a makeshift bouquet out of them. He stared at his handiwork before pulled away by a knock at the door. Wade skipped over to answer it, seeing that it was Laura on the other side.

“Little Wolf!” Wade greeted. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need your help,” she said. “My mom…” She glanced back to see if Logan was there. “Just, come here.” She grabbed Wade’s wrist and pulled him out into the hall. “My mom is freaking out.”

“Yeah, well, so is Peanut.”

“No, she’s… she’s burning everything she touches and burns are forming on her skin. My mom’s in pain and it’s all got her thinking that she’s not beautiful. I tried to—”

“Oh, hell no!” Wade slammed his apartment door and marched over to your apartment. He headed straight for your room, where he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. “Listen here, young lady. I will not have you talking badly about yourself.”

“Wade—“

“No! I will not stand for it.” He crouched down between your legs and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Buttercup, you are beautiful. Your scars do not define your beauty. Fuck, look at me. I know that my skin is a disaster but I also know that I am handsome as all hell. Yes, I make jokes at my own expense and have my own bad days, but—“

“Not everyone has your confidence,” you whispered. “I can’t stop thinking about how he probably had a perfect version of me in his world… I probably don’t compare…”

“My Little Flame, confidence isn’t on the outside. It’s in here.” He pressed a finger to your chest. “Same with beauty. But, my darling Buttercup, I can promise you this: you are beautiful inside and out. And I can tell you for a fact that Logan believes that you are the prettiest woman in all the multiverse.”

“He does?”

“Yep, and I’ll make sure that he tells you that more. You know, he’s struggling himself too. In fact, I just helped him through a panic attack.”

“What? Is he alright?”

“Peanut is fine. He’s getting himself all dolled up for your date and should be over soon.”

You nodded. “I keep burning all my clothes.”

“Don’t worry. I think I got just the thing.”

~~~

Logan stood on the other side of your apartment door, staring at the door. The bouquet that Wade had fixed up was gripped tightly in his hand. He was taking slow deep breaths, trying not to trigger another panic attack. Finally, with a slightly trembling hand, Logan knocked on the door. He was surprised to see Wade was the one to answer it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wondered Logan.

“I’m here helping out my Buttercup,” Wade responded with a shrug. “And someone needed to give you a good taking to.”

“What are you talking about—“

“I want her back home by nine pm. Only extremely respectful touches. No funny business. It’s only the first date. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Seriously?”

“You’re not seeing her until I hear it.”

Logan let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll have her home by nine and I will be nothing but a gentleman.”

“Good.” Wade turned back into the apartment, leaving the door open. “Buttercup! Your date is here!”

Laura was with you in the bathroom, the two of you looking at your reflection, when Wade yelled for you. She hugged you from behind.

“Go out and have fun, mom,” she told you softly. “You deserve it.”

You smiled at her. “Thanks, kiddo… for everything. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Laura took one of your hands, which were covered in her fingerless compression gloves, and lead you out to the living area. Logan lost his breath as he saw you. You were in a simple outfit, nice jeans and a blouse, but you were gorgeous. He quickly noticed the compression gloves and the fireproof body suit that was peering out from your blouse and his heart dropped. You clearly weren’t having a good day power wise, maybe he should call this off?

“Hey, Lo,” you greeted with a grin. But how could he call it off when you looked him like that?

“Hi, doll,” he said simply, getting lost in you for a moment. “Uh,” he cleared his throat, “these are for you.” He offered you the bouquet. 

You gave him a sheepish smile as you stepped forward and took the bouquet. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Wade said. “The bouquet was made by yours truly.”

You laughed. “Well, thank you too, Wade.”

“I’ve already warned him about bringing you home by nine and no funny business. But the same goes for you, young lady, no funny business. We cannot afford to have a little Emberine running a muck around here.”

“Wade!”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “For everything.” You turned to Laura and handed her the bouquet. “Take care of these please.”

“Of course, mom,” she said, taking the flowers. “Have fun.”

You nodded and turned your focus back to Logan. “Ready?”

“If you are, darlin’,” Logan replied.

Logan and you stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind you. You followed Logan closely as he led you out of the building. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you slipped your arm through Logan’s. His breath hitched at the contact, you noticed.

“Sorry, is this okay?” You asked.

“It’s great, doll,” he shot you a smile.

“So, what are the plans?”

“You’ll see.”

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning into him. “I trust you.”

Logan’s heart soared. He knew that you meant in this moment, but he also knew that your trust went beyond this moment. He led you through the streets to a quiet diner. He guided you to a small booth in the corner, where you two quickly ordered from the waitress.

“This place is nice,” you commented, looking around.

“I found it once on a late night walk when I couldn’t sleep,” he stated.

“Do you have nights like that often?” Logan shrugged. “Lo… why haven’t you told me?”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

You reached out and placed your gloved hand on his. “If you don’t want to be shielded from my problems, you can’t shield me from yours. Got it?”

Logan nodded, his hand turning to better hold your hand. You bit your lip, trying not to pull away from his touch. “Are you okay today? I noticed the gloves and the body suit.”

“I’m fine—great, actually. I just… It’s embarrassing.”

“Try me.”

“Well, I was so nervous for the date that I kept burning everything I touched.”

“Are you alright?” He lifted your hand and noticed the small burns. “Shit, doll.”

“It’s fine, Lo. I’m fine… Heard you had a panic attack.”

“Yeah,” Logan nodded, bringing your intertwined hands back to the table. “I was nervous too.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

~~~

The two of you lost track of time as you ate, talked, and laughed. It felt easy, quiet, and relaxing. Logan had worried that his plan just to go to a diner was too simple, but those worries faded quickly. Before you knew it, it was well past nine, and you and Logan were finally walking home. Your arms were looped together and you were leaning comfortably against each other, like you were melted together.

“Thank you, Lo,” you told him as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Tonight was… well, perfect.”

“Glad you thought so, doll,” Logan smiled. “I, uh, I was thinking that maybe—“

Your apartment door slammed open. “I said nine!” Wade exclaimed. “It’s almost eleven! Are you too old to tell time, Peanut? Do I need to get you a watch?”

You bit back a laugh as Logan groaned, jaw and hands clenched in frustration. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek, causing him to freeze up.

“Thanks again, Lo,” you whispered. “See you tomorrow.”

Logan could barely force out a nod as Wade grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the apartment and shut the door behind you. Logan’s fingers twitched as his hand came up and brushed against the spot you kissed.

Inside the apartment, you were laughing. Laura and Wade had pulled you into the blanket fort they made in the living room.

“Tell us everything!” Wade pressed. “I want to hear every juicy detail!”

The three of you stayed up talking in the blanket fort until you all fell sound asleep. 

next chapter >

[babyangelsky]

It was so extremely rude of WeTV to choose THIS as the promo photo of tomorrow’s episode. How dare they remind me I’m going to be seeing my baby boy sad and heartbroken 😭

@respectthepetty Only a few more hours until we see if we clowned correctly and Almond is innocent