#and i also wanna write for that!! i just don't know if i have the time/capacity for it right now

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 12

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 15 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

When Sukuna and you enter the university holding hands, you know the news will spread fast. You can't help but wonder what kind of gossip people will share about the two of you. After all, Sukuna isn't just anybody but the star player of the most successful ice hockey team this college has had in many decades. And on top of that, he is infamous for being the guy who doesn't date.

Well, things have changed.

You smile softly as you lean into Sukuna's side, resting your head against his buff biceps and feeling his large hand give yours a reassuring squeeze. He is acting his usual self, strutting down this hallway as if he owns it, head held high, arrogant smirk perfectly in place, fixing the people around you with a condescending stare.

But he doesn't even try to keep your new relationship low-key or hide it from the public eye. It makes your stomach flutter as you stroll down the hallway and Sukuna never lets go of your hand. You reach your classroom and Sukuna grins his most charming grin before he leans down to kiss you on the lips, right there in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see.

It's a lingering, slow kiss, leaving no doubt about what it means. Sukuna's large tattooed hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue teasingly against yours before he slowly pulls away with that typical sexy smirk on his handsome face,

"Have fun in class, princess. And don't forget your lunch date with your boyfriend."

He grins at you, the tip of his tongue playing with one of his sharp canines as he watches you with an amused but also intense look.

Boyfriend.

Hearing Sukuna say that word makes your tummy fill with butterflies. A breathless chuckle escapes your lips,

"As if I would ever forget my boyfriend. But just to make sure, why don't you pick your girlfriend up from class?"

You grin up at Sukuna with a racing heart, delighted to see his Adam's apple bob and his long lashes flutter for a moment. You don't seem to be the only one who gets flustered by the use of that new name.

Sukuna's large hand lands on your head, ruffling your hair, before he finally pulls away with a wink and tells you to hurry up so your professor won't have a reason to berate you today.

You have your little lunch date a few hours later, sitting at your usual table, Sukuna's table, eating and chatting about Sukuna's upcoming game and your creative writing class.

Things feel like they always do. There is no big change in the way you act around each other. The two of you follow the same routine you already developed gradually during the last few months since Sukuna came into your life.

It makes you realize just how natural it has already become to be by Sukuna's side almost all the time. Even before you got together, you already met on campus every morning, chatting and joking around while Sukuna walked you to your classes, carrying your heavy books and ruffling your hair. You already went to lunch together all the time, and later on, met in the library to study and eat the snacks Sukuna prepared, your hands brushing over each other when you reached into the snack box at the same time.

Everything is still the same, but, at the same time, it isn't. Because now, Sukuna holds your hand as you walk down the hallway. Now he kisses you openly, not just behind closed doors or when he's drunk, but in the middle of the crowded hallway. And at lunch, he holds your hand on top of the table, his long tattooed fingers absentmindedly playing with yours while he complains about one of his teammates.

And you rest your chin on your other hand, watching your boyfriend with a dreamy smile, thinking to yourself that somehow it feels as if it was always meant to happen this way.

Nobara is very smug about your relationship update. She found out about it the day after your date in the hockey arena because she walked in on Sukuna and you sharing a deep kiss in the living room. She made a disgusted noise and banged her door shut again, but when Sukuna left an hour later to go to the gym, Nobara cornered you immediately, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a triumphant grin on her face,

"So, you and Kirby, huh? I knew it!"

You shrugged helplessly, unable to stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you admitted,

"Well, I guess you saw it coming sooner than I did."

Right now, she's lounging lazily on the couch, waving around her fingers to let her nail polish dry while watching you with a knowing look as you check reflection a few times too often in the mirror next to the front door.

"Are you seeing loverboy? Not that I am complaining, by the way. I prefer it when you visit him, so I don't have to see his stupid face."

You huff loudly, turning around to give her a stern look,

"Nobara! Sukuna can actually be really nice! If you would get to know him better, then.."

But Nobara interrupts you, laughing and rolling her eyes,

"I'm just teasing you. I don't mind. Just make sure he doesn't drink all the milk when he's staying here."

With that, she turns around again, lifting her freshly manicured hands in front of her face, inspecting her work, and you stand there with a grin spreading over your face. Maybe Sukuna is growing on your dormmate after all.

"There's a hockey party at our dorm tomorrow."

Sukuna is lying on his bed with one buff arm behind his neck, cat-like maroon eyes watching you lazily, and a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face. He looks so good that it should be illegal. Only wearing his stupid low-sitting grey sweats, so his buff pecs and taut abs are on full display. You don't even know where to look. There is just so much of him, big and broad and so gorgeous with all those muscles and the smooth tattooed skin everywhere.

You have to forcibly shake yourself out of staring at Sukuna with heart-eyes, but when you manage it, you raise an eyebrow teasingly,

"So what are you trying to tell me with that info, Kuna? That we can't see each other tomorrow?"

Sukuna rolls his pretty eyes, his lips lifting in an equally teasing and amused grin,

"Don't play clueless, sweetheart. You know damn well why I'm telling you that."

You grin at Sukuna, leaning closer to him, playfully blinking at him and batting your lashes,

"Hmmm, maybe you have to spell it out for me, baby."

A low, raspy laugh falls from Sukuna's mouth, and he reaches out with his free hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb slowly over your lower lip. His intense maroon gaze never leaves you when he whispers in that sexy low drawl,

"I want you to accompany me to that party. Or, to make things even clearer for you, I want you to be my date. Now, what do you say, princess?"

You feel a bit light-headed from the fluttery feeling in your stomach that Sukuna's words cause. Asking you out on your first official date. You can't stop grinning as you nod, pressing a little kiss to Sukuna's thumb that's still resting on your lower lip,

"I say yes."

Your grin turns into a surprised squeal when Sukuna's arms wrap around you and pull you on top of him.

You enter the party on Sukuna's arm and instantly feel intimidated. The apartment is much bigger than Sukuna's and Yuuji's, and the whole place is bustling with people.

You tried to reassure yourself beforehand that this is just a regular college party. But now that you are here, you can't deny anymore, what you already knew deep down. This isn't just a normal college party. It's the kind of party you have never been invited to before.

The large apartment is filled with only the most popular people the campus has to offer. Admired athletes, popular jocks, and just as popular cheerleaders, beautiful sorority girls, and rich daughters and sons of all kinds of important people.

It's a crowd you aren't used to. A crowd that is very good at excluding people like you, who aren't considered anything special in their eyes. Just a boring creative writing student whose name no one has heard before.

Technically, you know that not all of the popular people are like that. Most of Sukuna's teammates are really ok, and the girls in your classes who are also athletes are nice, too. Even Gojo Satoru was easy to get along with when you interviewed him.

But tonight, the large apartment is bustling with people you have never talked to before, and their heads instantly snap to you as Sukuna and you enter the party. Their stares make your stomach clench nervously. You can imagine how Sukuna and you must look to them: The star player of the hockey team, the King of the Ice, and next to him the nameless girl, who is clinging nervously to his large hand while her heart beats up to her throat.

You feel Sukuna's thumb caresses your wrist lightly. A sweet, reassuring gesture that makes you let out the breath you had unconsciously been holding. Sukuna leans down to murmur in your ear,

"Don't be nervous, princess. Just focus on me. Those insects don't even deserve your attention."

You laugh at his words, grateful for how he makes you feel more at ease. Sukuna flashes you one of his most charming smiles and gently tugs you along into the kitchen, where the whole hockey team is gathered, all cheering and whistling loudly when their star player enters. Sukuna returns all the high fives and takes a shot glass from the huge tray that Todo is passing around.

Just when you want to take a step back so the players can drink together, Sukuna's strong arm stops you, keeping you right there by his side. Todo and Yuuji join you, offering you a vodka shot because "You are Sukuna's lucky charm, so you count as an honorary team member!"

You burst out laughing, smiling gratefully at them as you lift your glass to join in on the player's toast. The small room keeps getting fuller as more people come looking for the hockey players, and Sukuna grins at you and lifts you up, setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs. His tattooed face comes closer to yours, maroon eyes gazing deeply into yours, and your pulse races. Your hand cups Sukuna's cheek right when his lips brush over yours.

Sukuna's kiss makes your head spin with the way he licks into your mouth and how his large hands wrap around your waist while he pushes his body between your legs.

The rest of the party is far from your mind when you have Sukuna's tongue in your mouth, but unfortunately, you can't make out the whole evening. Sukuna's teammates demand his presence, and you need to go to the bathroom. So you excuse yourself, smiling when Sukuna ruffles your hair before you walk out of the kitchen.

This time, you feel more at ease when you enter the living room, an effect of the alcohol and Sukuna's kisses. But only after a few steps, you feel the atmosphere shift again. The scrutinizing gazes are back.

Spending time with Sukuna on campus already put you in the spotlight, but that felt different somehow. Maybe because a few days ago, you were just the mysterious girl who sometimes walked next to him or the lucky charm he brought to his games. Maybe you seemed like no competition. Like no one important. Just another little fling. Just another replaceable puck bunny. But now you are the girl who took the star player of the ice hockey team off the market, and everyone seems to ask themselves how you managed to do that. It feels as if you get put under a microscope, inspected curiously, and every flaw is analyzed and frowned upon.

You try to ignore the murmurs and stares, even while internally, a storm is brewing in you. Self-doubts mix with anger and dig their claws into your heart. You are relieved when you reach the bathroom and can lock yourself in it, escaping from the gazes and murmurs for at least a few minutes.

You take your time washing your hands, letting the ice-cold water run over your wrists as you look at your face in the mirror.

Come on, don't be stupid. It's just a party. Let them talk. They are just curious because Sukuna has never brought a date before. Just get back to the kitchen and enjoy the rest of the evening!

You steel yourself, straightening up before you open the door and exit the bathroom again.

"Does she really believe she has what it takes to be the girl at Sukuna's side?"

"Right? Sukuna is way out of her league. Who is she even?"

You draw in a sharp breath as your eyes meet the ones of the two girls talking shit about you. They don't even look guilty for getting caught but just stare at you with a scornful expression.

You want to get away from here! Your first instinct is to flee into Sukuna's strong arms, but a wall of football players who are raising their beer bottles and toasting each other is blocking your way. Your gaze lands on the door leading to the balcony. Before you even think about it, your feet carry you towards it.

You step onto the large balcony, deeply inhaling the crisp night air as if you are drowning. You grip the railing tightly, looking at the dark sky above you, internally screaming at yourself to stop being so stupid! Why do you let that random gossip affect you?

You know they were just talking shit. You know Sukuna better than they do! You know what the two of you have is real. But hearing those words still bugs you. They feed the demon inside you that whispers to you that maybe you are really not good enough to be the woman by Sukuna's side. Tears prick at your eyes, but you clench them shut, refusing to cry.

But before you can spiral further, a familiar low, velvety voice speaks up behind you,

"What are you doing out here, princess?"

The tight grip of your hands around the balcony railing loosens when you feel Sukuna's muscular arms wrap around you. You instantly relax into his embrace, leaning against his tall, firm body, chiding yourself silently for letting those judgemental gazes and mean comments get to you and fill your mind with doubts.

"I just needed some fresh air."

You feel Sukuna's warm breath on your neck when he laughs his sexy, low laugh. His lips brush over your neck, and then they open, and his hot tongue glides teasingly over your sensitive skin, making your pulse race and butterflies dance in your belly. You are about to get lost in Sukuna's closeness, in his touch, in the warmth of his buff body, and the feeling of his lips on you, but he is too perceptive, analyzing you too closely.

"Tell me what's wrong, princess."

His arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles his warm lips against your neck,

"You suddenly bolted from the room. Right when I was about to come over to you. Are you feeling sick or something? Do you need me to bring you home? I'll do it, you know that, right? Fuck that boring party. Let's go and get you into bed and watch some trash TV we can make fun of."

Your heart clenches. He is so sweet to you. So caring. It's something you never thought a guy like Sukuna could be. It makes you feel even more guilty for being so affected by some rude comment a stranger said. And so you blurt out the truth,

"I just...I heard some people say something that upset me."

You can feel Sukuna tense up behind you. His voice sounds strained when he asks,

"What did they say?"

"That you're out of my league."

Sukuna huffs. He puts his hands on your hips, turning you around. A large hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so you look up at your boyfriend's tattooed face. The usual playfulness is gone from Sukuna's features, replaced by a serious look.

"They are wrong, princess. I am not out of your league. If anything, it's the other way around."

You are about to say something to him, contradicting him, asking him how he could ever think you are out of his league, but Sukuna puts a long tattooed finger on your lips and shakes his head,

"Listen, princess. I don't give a fuck about anyone's popularity. I play hockey to win, not because I want to be some college celebrity. I despise the people who just want to be with me because they think they can gain some advantage from it. Fuck them! I invited you because when you're with me, everything is better. I want you here. You are my girl. I like having you by my side, and I am proud of showing you off. You make this stupid party 100% better for me, and if anyone gave you the feeling you don't belong here, I have something to say to them."

Your heart feels so full that you can't help but smile from ear to ear. Sukuna's lips lift in his lopsided, handsome smirk when he intertwines his long fingers with your smaller ones and watches you while he jerks his tattooed chin towards the door,

"Come on, let's go back. I have to show my face for a while longer to support my team. And you have a job to do, too, Miss. You're my lucky charm, after all. It's literally in your job description to be by my side. I might get into an accident otherwise, break a leg or some shit like that and not be able to play for weeks. We can't let that happen. Surely you understand. Now give me a kiss."

You laugh at the playful words, reaching out to put your hands on Sukuna's defined pecs, bracing yourself on his chest as you get on your tiptoes to give him a sweet little kiss on the lips before you let him lead you back into the living room.

When you were making your way through the living room on your own, you struggled to find a path through the crowd, but now you are on Sukuna's arm, and Sukuna doesn't have that problem. Anyone who sees him steps aside, making room for him. And the ones who don't see him coming get shoved to the side by Sukuna's tall, muscular body.

There's a group of guys to your left who look your way. One of them turns his head to say something to his friend. You don't catch it, but you feel Sukuna tense up beside you.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before he lets it drop, and before you can ask what's going on, Sukuna is already on the guy who grinned at you, his hands twisted in the guy's shirt, slamming him brutally into the wall behind him as if they are on the ice, and Sukuna is slamming an opponent into the boards.

A loud murmur goes through the crowd. People jump to the side, and others come closer. You see Yuuji's pink hair and hear Todo's booming voice. But all of that seems far away from you. Your focus is only zoomed in on your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who is glaring at the guy who apparently must have said something about you. The guy is looking at Sukuna with wide eyes, trying to splutter some excuse for whatever he said, but Sukuna shakes his head, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading over his tattooed face as he pushes the guy into the wall once more.

Contrary to Sukuna's physical force, his voice is calm, though. Deadly calm. Cooing at the guy tauntingly as a cruel smirk spreads over Sukuna's face,

"You're really fucking insane, aren't you? Daring to insult my girlfriend. Acting so tough when, in reality, you are such a pathetic little guy. Apologize to her."

Adrenaline is sizzling in your veins. Seeing Sukuna like that is making you feel light-headed. A mix of worry and strange pride and arousal flows through you. You know Sukuna has that bad boy reputation, but this is the first time you see him attack someone off the ice. It's actually fucking hot. Especially when he's doing it for you.

The guy stammers an apology, squirming in Sukuna's tight grip and trying to shake him off, but he doesn't stand a chance against the force that is Itadori Sukuna. His friends don't come to his rescue either. All of them are cowering a few feet away, apparently not wanting to get on Sukuna's bad side.

Sukuna slams him against the wall once more, his tone cold and dangerous,

"Let me spell it out for you and everyone else. She's my girlfriend. She belongs to these parties. She belongs everywhere where I belong, too. Do you understand that?"

Sukuna cocks his head, smirking that dangerous smirk, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement.

The guy nods hurriedly, eyes wide with fear,

"Yes! Yes, of course!"

And Sukuna laughs, his voice dropping to a low, velvety whisper,

"Now get the fuck out of my sight. I give you ten seconds. And if I ever get wind of you talking shit about my girl again, I will fuck up your whole life."

He lifts his head to let his narrowed maroon eyes scan the room slowly,

"And that goes for every single one of you."

You could hear a pin drop in the large room. The whole room is either staring at Sukuna or looking anywhere but at him, too intimidated to look at the enraged King of the Ice.

Sukuna yanks the guy off the wall and pushes him into the middle of the room, sending him stumbling into his friends, who catch him while Sukuna watches with a raised eyebrow,

"What are you still doing here, scum? I told you to run. Do I really have to start counting as if we are in kindergarten? Ten. Nine..."

It doesn't take more. The guy scrambles to his feet and practically bolts from the party, followed by his friends, accompanied by the loud booing and laughter coming from the hockey team.

Sukuna is by your side again, the cruel smirk replaced by the boyish grin you have grown so fond of. He wraps a strong arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him. His touch is so gentle, so completely different from the way he just treated the guy who talked shit about you.

"Sorry that you had to see this. But I had to be an asshole real quick. I won't let anyone disrespect you."

"It's ok. You are a very sexy asshole."

You tilt your head to grin up at Sukuna, and he meets your gaze with an amused sparkle in his maroon eyes. His arms tighten around you, and he leans down to claim your lips in a heated kiss. Making out with you in the middle of the crowded living room, letting everyone see that you are his girl.

Your eyes close, and you sigh, kissing Sukuna back eagerly, drowning in his closeness, adrenaline flowing through your veins after seeing him be so protective over you and seeing him display his affection for you in front of everyone.

Sukuna doesn't leave your side for the rest of the evening. You have some more vodka shots, get some snacks from the kitchen, and join Yuuji and Todo on the couch to chat with them about hockey and your classes and laugh about the time you were their getaway driver after they destroyed their rival teams' ice sculpture.

Sukuna pulled you onto his lap at some point, and you stayed right there, basking in the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you, his warm lips occasionally trailing little kisses over your neck, and the firm muscles of his chest and abs rippling against your back anytime he laughs.

The fluttery feeling in your tummy doesn't go away the whole evening, and it even intensifies when Sukuna gives his brother and Todo high fives and tells them he and you are leaving.

Sukuna steers you out of the apartment with a strong hand on the small of your back while he walks behind you, close enough for you to feel his tall, broad body.

You walk down the staircase next to each other with one of Sukuna's arms thrown over your shoulder. Sukuna's and Yuuji's apartment is just two floors down the staircase, but before you even reach it, Sukuna has already pulled a battered cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket and lights a cigarette while his arm is still around you, making you stumble against him. He takes a deep drag and groans in satisfaction as the nicotine fills his lungs.

"Fuck, I needed that after that stupid party."

You laugh and shake your head, wordlessly pointing at the big no-smoking sign plastered to the wall right next to Sukuna. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as he slowly blows out the smoke,

"Who is gonna stop me? At least I'm not smoking in our apartment, so my dear brother won't throw things at me."

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation and wrap a hand around Sukuna's biceps, pulling on his arm,

"Come on, big boy, let's go outside for a while so you can smoke without getting in trouble, and I can get some fresh air. I need it too after that party."

"You're so cute, princess."

Sukuna smirks teasingly at you, but he obeys and lets you pull him down the stairs and out of the dorm.

The two of you stand on the pavement before the building, hugging closely while Sukuna smokes slowly, blowing the smoke in your face with a teasing smirk and watching you with his cat-like gaze. You sigh and roll your eyes but only snuggle closer against him, your arms wrapped around him, nails running up and down his broad back, gently scratching him as you let Sukuna's secondhand smoke and his warm embrace and the smell of his cologne calm your nerves.

It's suddenly easy again. Peaceful. Joking around with Sukuna, rolling your eyes playfully at him, and laughing with him. The party seems miles away. All that exists is Sukuna and you.

The circles he moves in are still foreign to you, but it doesn't matter, you realize. When it comes down to it, all that matters is just you and him and this thing between you. This strong connection that feels so natural and magnetic.

Of course, you say yes when Sukuna flicks his cigarette to the ground and asks if you will spend the night at his apartment. He takes your hand, intertwines his long fingers with yours, and gently tugs you along, leading you back up the staircase to his apartment, making your tummy flutter with the way his thumb is caressing your wrist.

Sukuna unlocks the door, and his lips are on yours the moment you enter the apartment. His muscular arms swoop you up, carrying you to his room, his large, calloused hands undressing you while his tongue licks slowly into your mouth. And you moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up, caressing Sukuna's warm tattooed skin, running your fingers over his defined muscles, smiling when he growls into your mouth.

The two of you tumble onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, moaning into each other's mouth as you yank at your clothes. Sukuna is naked before you and gets to work on pulling your jeans and your panties off, his hands running down your legs, followed by his soft lips, making your hips buck needily, your fingers tangling in his soft pink hair, tugging on it, pulling him to you, needing more of him. Needing him closer. Needing all of him.

His low chuckle sends a pleasure-filled shiver down your spine as he pushes you down on the mattress. Sukuna's tall, broad figure covers you fully, his weight traps you under him in the most delicious way. His lips find yours again in another slow, deep, wet kiss. You feel his hard cock rub against your belly, hot and velvety, making you wrap your legs around Sukuna's hips in your need to get him inside you, moaning into his mouth, your hands in his hair, your body arching needily up against his buff body.

You are so wet for him just from kissing him, making Sukuna groan breathlessly when his cock slips between your legs and glides through your slick pussy lips. He pulls away for a second, but only to push into you when he snaps his hips against you, making both of you gasp when his thick cockhead splits you open.

And then it's needy, slow fucking. Sukuna keeps kissing you, deep, loving tongue kisses, his strong arms resting on both sides of your face, his muscular body moving on top of you, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts.

It's nasty but sweet at the same time. Slow sex, more lovemaking than fucking. And you melt, giving yourself fully to Sukuna, mewling into his mouth, squeezing your legs around him, digging your nails into the buff muscles of his broad back, kissing him back hungrily, gasping with every deep, slow thrust that kisses your sweet spot.

The lights in Sukuna's room are off. The only light comes from the streetlamps that shine their glow through the window. Your mind is hazy, partly from the vodka shots you had and the smoke you inhaled, but also from the giddiness at being so close to Sukuna, the exhilaration of knowing how committed he is to you, how he let everyone know that you are his girlfriend.

He fucks you so good that you cry, tears slowly running down your cheeks, while Sukuna rolls his hips against yours slowly. Letting you feel every inch of his long, thick cock. A slow, steady rhythm that makes you clench around him, sobbing into his hot mouth anytime you feel his cock pushing slowly into you until his heavy balls are resting against your ass, letting you know that he is as close to you as possible.

It feels so intimate. Making love in Sukuna's dimly lit room while the faint noises of the party two floors above you drift to your ears. But here it's only Sukuna and you. And Sukuna doesn't wear his mask of arrogant aloofness. His gaze is open, full of burning love and desire. His lips open in breathless groans, followed by whispered sweet nothings.

It's deep and intense. As if Sukuna is showing you his love for you with every slow move of his tall, broad body on top of you. With every caress of his hard cock. With every heated kiss that brushes your naked skin. With every whispered word breathed against your lips.

You cling to Sukuna needily, caressing his broad back and his firm, full ass, moaning his name in between tender but nasty open-mouthed tongue kisses, and Sukuna groans those sexy low groans that give you butterflies, not just in your tummy but also in your pussy.

"Fuck, princess. I love you. I fucking love you."

Sukuna moans breathlessly against your lips, and you clench around his cock at his soft words, caressing his back, whispering against his lips,

"I love you, too, baby. Love you so much."

You feel Sukuna's hips stutter, feel his muscles tense under your fingers. He moans and stops moving, his lips only lightly brushing over yours, panting heavily, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to hold back his orgasm.

Sukuna pushes himself up on his elbows, his thick cock slipping out of you, only letting his fat mushroom tip caress your swollen clit. Sukuna gazes at you, his tattooed cheeks flushed, maroon eyes full of need. His large hands land on your legs, calloused fingers running slowly over your thighs and calves, making you tremble under his tender touches.

Sukuna grabs your legs and lifts them, putting them over his broad shoulders. Heated, wet kisses land on both your ankles before Sukuna snaps his hips again and fucks his gorgeous cock back into you. You cry out his name, throwing your head back on his pillow, your mouth opening in a row of mewls. The switch of position makes things even more intense. You can feel Sukuna even deeper inside you with the way he's folding you in half, making the fluttery feeling in your pussy become so intense that you sob from it.

You hear Sukuna's sexy, breathless groans and feel his strong body on top of you, his buff muscles flexing with every deep thrust. His weight presses you down into the mattress, fucking you so deep that it makes you dizzy. But he takes things slow. Savoring your first time making love to the fullest.

He leans down so his face is so close to yours that you are breathing each other's breath, your eyes locked in a deep, intense gaze as you both get closer and closer to your peak with every thrust. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel your pussy growing tighter around Sukuna's cock, the butterflies in your tummy going crazy.

"Look at me, princess. Fuck... look at me."

You moan loudly, obeying Sukuna's wish, looking deeply into his eyes, sighing anytime his fat cockhead hits your sweet spot with the most delicious precision, making a firework of bliss explode inside you with every slow thrust. You mewl desperately, nails digging into Sukuna's skin, hips lifting needily to meet his slow thrusts. Just a bit more, just a little bit more, and you will drown in bliss!

You see the moment Sukuna reaches the point of no return. See it in his heavy-lidded maroon eyes when he can't hold back his orgasm anymore. And Sukuna cums deep inside your pussy, looking so sexy and beautiful with his eyes so soft and full of bliss, his mouth hanging open with the sexiest low moans falling from his lips as he ruts against you, fucking his whole orgasm into you.

You follow him only a moment later, squealing his name loudly, your whole body shaking, pussy so tight around Sukuna's fat cock that he is gasping from it.

"Fuck, princess. Yeah, cum for me, baby, just like that. Just like that. Fuck! Milk me dry."

You are lost in pleasure, moaning and mewling as he fucks you slowly through your orgasm. Sukuna's soft lips claim yours again, swallowing your mewls, kissing you sweet and deep as he rests his heavy weight fully on you, pressing you down into the sheets while he still rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you enjoy his cock until the last waves of your high have ebbed off. Giving you his all, just like you are giving him your all.

You sigh happily against Sukuna's lips, hugging him tightly to you, your fingers playing with the short stubble of his undercut before they run down his broad, muscular back and back up again, caressing him lovingly. And he kisses you slowly with those sexy, deep French kisses. Your breathing gradually slows down again, your bodies relaxing against each other, but neither of you makes a move to let go.

The sex scene made me blush so much AAAHH 😳😳 It's not just fucking anymore but lovemaking with deep eye contact!! I am so flustered 💗😵

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! The scene at the party where Sukuna attacked that guy wasn't planned at first, but my dear Kuna told me that he wants to let everyone know we are his girl and that anyone who gives us shit will get into trouble with the Ice King himself lol. He is so funny uwu Thank you so much for reading! I am always so happy when I can share a new chapter with you and see your reactions! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗 In the next chapter, we will have: Two dates with boyfie Sukuna (one which kind of fails, but in a funny way, and a real one). More ice hockey because Reader still has her job as Sukuna's lucky charm! And more bonding.

[bonefall]

the ShadowClan talk made me look through Brokenstar's BB Tags, and. a) is Lizardstripe still related to Finchflight, if you are keeping Finch-Dawn as a couple (with Dawncloud's age redux)? b) i keep seeing stuff about Snowtuft and killing kits, but i cant find anything actually detailing on that on the blog, and one of the older posts also mentions that Blizzardwing is either his son/grandson AND that Lizardstripe's mother was the kit he couldn't kill. what is all that about, im dying to know.

This is info that's scattered across a bunch of different posts, plus more deets and changes I haven't had a chance to dive into. Snowtuft committed an atrocity which would torment his victims and descendants for generations, for both its legacy and its trauma.

SO I wanna put as much of it as possible into one place for now, so you don't have to go guessing based on older posts. Especially since some of those posts are long outdated, but I haven't contradicted them yet.

To start the story of the two families, it begins with Snowtuft and the bloody end of the Crusade Era.

CONTENT WARNING; this is one of BB's darkest tales. It involves depictions of xenophobic violence, child murder, war crime, PTSD, abuse, and kidnapping. BB!Snowtuft's a bad kitty!

SEE: Kitten Stealing

(Also: After writing it out, I kinda realized this would be great as a BB entry on its own. I should come back and clean this up someday.)

PART 1: THE LAST CRUSADE

Cedarstar inherited the Crusades from Houndstar, continuing them more out of respect for her legacy than true zealotry.

He had actually been chosen as a deputy because he would run the Clan while she was off gallavanting.

He wasn't a pushover or anything, just prefered logistics. Him and Pinestar were tragically ahead of their time.

...but like other cats of his time, he was from a culture that didn't extend personhood beyond the Clans. So, he continued the Crusades.

Even though they weren't getting easier.

Crystal of Chelford had already used a new tool to carve a red future for the cats of the town...

and what were once defenseless little targets began to unite into organized, armed response teams.

Non-BloodClan "zones" got rarer and rarer.

The territory and underlings of an influential cat named Jay were among the last holdouts, so it's where most of ShadowClan's raids were launched.

And on one of these raids... it happened fast.

Snowtuft turned an alley and was ruthlessly attacked. He defended himself.

In the confusion, another assailant ran towards him. He acted swiftly.

It was reflex! Instinct! He couldn't tell what was coming at him. It was a split second decision.

He couldn't undo what had happened. The kitten was dead, next to its mother.

And the others were screaming, crying, terrified.

Snowtuft doesn't remember what he did next. He doesn't want to.

But Puffballburr does.

She used to see it every night.

She remembers her name, too-- Pixie. And her mom. And her littermates.

And the look that washed over his eyes when he realized the ragged flesh at his feet was a kitten.

Raw shock, electrifying shame, the dawning horror of knowing you've definitely done something that you're going to get punished for.

And when his white, blood-splattered face turned slowly towards her and her wailing siblings, she recognized that emotion too.

It's a very childlike response, really.

He needed to cover up his accident.

And he almost did, too. It was dumb luck that stopped him as he grabbed her tail and dragged her out from her hiding place. One of his clanmates heard the awful racket, and Pixie had survived just long enough.

PART 2: ONE OF US

They took her away, just like any other "honor kitten," but the Clan cats believed this was different somehow.

Something about the naked horror of what Snowtuft did, maybe. Impossible to ignore.

But it's not like he faced any real justice for it, not that Puffballkit could remember seeing. So clearly it wasn't very different at all.

His mate left him, and the older warriors regarded him with a distant sort of "shame." He was ostracized from many circles.

But Puff's siblings had not been "clan cats" so the Warrior Code did not apply to them. He faced social dishonor, not legal.

Ever-merciful Cedarstar did not want to "ruin" more lives.

"Not when the kit is far too young to even remember what happened," he said. But she did remember.

And her name. Her mom. Her littermates. That face.

She just knew, growing up, that she couldn't know about it.

Because Snowtuft was always right there, just around the curve of the den, just behind the cover of the rose bush thorns, listening.

They're ALL Snowtuft.

To admit she remembers it is to admit she isn't one of them. And if you're not one of them, the law does not apply to you.

As a kid, she couldn't articulate it. But she understood it.

Deep down to her brittle, kittypet bones. Her filthy, stillwater blood.

The ungrateful heart that beat in her chest.

Fear expressed as a constant, calm obedience of authority. A permanent dread, as if living in a pack as a sheep in wolf's clothing

So she was quiet, notoriously so.

Whoever her foster was, Puff was like a little white shadow. It's where the warrior name came from, eventually-- a puffball clinging to someone's fur. (after writing this though, half of me wants to start calling her Lambfur or Lambfrost.)

ShadowClan plunged into the Campaign Era with Heatherstar's invasion of the Mothermouth Moorland, and the massacre of some kittypet family became awkward history. Those old enough to remember still kept a distance from Snowtuft... but war took its toll.

War means death and those older members of the Clan are not replaceable.

Younger cats weren't there to see the horror of what Snowtuft had done... and time would make him bolder.

Finding growing sympathy in his apprentices, spurred on by the hardening of the culture in tandem with the official birth of Thistle Law, Snowtuft started to change history.

The official Educator of ShadowClan (still unsure who this was) had one story, and Snowtuft had one too.

"Details" were quietly changed in his. They weren't "kits" but "young cats." They charged out to aid their mother. Then maybe she wasn't their mother. Who knows.

Pullball's name was left out of these stories, on both sides. No need for the kittens to know that she wasn't one of us.

And if she was? That's a good thing for her. Living the life of a Clan cat.

He wouldn't share if "he wasn't asked," but all of his actions, his language, was a silent plea to be asked.

He wanted to forget the whole thing, because of his nightmares, his constant shame and punishment, how hard the whole ordeal made his life-- but he couldn't so it was constantly coming out of his mouth.

There was a deep resentment on his end, towards Puffballburr. How she was part of the Clan now, always reminding him. Like it was her fault.

In the end, Snowtuft didn't blame himself. He blamed everything else. The guilt was killing him a little bit every day...

But not as much as that WindClan cat's claws did. Those killed him a lot in one day!

But Snowtuft's death didn't bring Puffballburr any peace. She just felt... annoyed. Which was strange to her-- she should feel relief, but, she didn't. She was just thinking about how the next battle with WindClan would be harder without an extra set of claws.

PART 3: GOING HOME

Puffballfur is the queen of low empathy, and her emotions are... hard to predict.

Not in a chaotic sort of way, but in a "Huh, interesting, I didn't think that of all things would get me going" sort of way.

She both lives in constant "fear" but also a persistent banality. It's kind of like being in a cage with a chained tiger, but you've marked the exact spot on the floor where the tiger's chain ends.

Imagine getting nightmares that stop you from sleeping, but you know that they aren't going to come true. So you lay there with a throbbing heart, mostly feeling annoyed that you're going to be tired in the morning.

That's her life.

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep, she'd roll on her back in the nest and critique the assassination attempt in her mind.

Did he think his dumb plan through? Or did he just react without thinking? It was going to be obvious he killed a bunch of kids, whether she survived or not.

Or maybe he would have just said that the rogue killed her own kits to prevent them from becoming Clan cats. They'd probably believe that.

Either way it was sloppy. Could have had more kits if he didn't kill her sibs.

She had connections within the Clan. A foster, hunting buddies, apprentice. She was kind to them, especially when they were useful. But...

It feels like she's not like them. Like they have variables to their behavior that she doesn't. Drives and desires that are pointless, sometimes even frustrating.

Like the concept of "honor." Ridiculous. Every single person who talks about it is hypocritical about it in some way, and it causes unnecessary fights in the camp and on the border because of ridiculous ego.

She just performs it because the other cats value it-- and when people like you, you get what you want.

I'm not sure who her mate was, or if it was even just one. In any case, when she found herself pregnant, she declared Queen's Rights. I feel like she might have had a fling with someone, but got annoyed by their clingy behavior.

When her daughters were born, Bracketkit and Lizardkit, she felt pride.

Because... they didn't belong to someone else. They weren't even really ShadowClan's. They were hers.

For the first time since her mother and littermates had been taken away from her, she felt like she was looking at family. People who would always be with her.

But that didn't last...

...because a chance encounter only a few moons later reconnected her with someone who remembered her.

Not a littermate, but an older sister. Marmalade. She couldn't believe that Pixie was alive.

This is a WIP zone because I'm not sure, yet, if I'm keeping Hal's attack on ShadowClan. In any case, they continued to reconnect for moons.

The fact that she was remembered, that she could talk openly about what happened, and that Marmalade wanted her and her kittens to come home made Puffballburr's stomach flutter with excitement. She felt valuable.

And with the war getting worse and worse, this was absolutely the best choice for her kittens as well. They would be safer with BloodClan than they would with ShadowClan.

No longer would she be Puffballburr. Her name was Pixie.

ENTER: LIZARDSTRIPE

Puffballburr wasn't a bad mother, but it would feel a lot better to be Lizardstripe if she could have the simplicity to just say she was.

Her earliest memories of her mom and her sibling were outside of the camp on a cool, clear spring night, laying in soft marshgrass. Puff was laying on her back with her hind legs bowed out, a kit tucked under each paw, pressed to her fluffy, warm chest. Her face was turned upward, quietly, at the moon, as her daughters slept peacefully.

She's not sure how long after she'd opened her eyes that this memory took place, but Lizardkit looked up towards the bright, starry sky... and she remembered that the light hurt.

Her needs were always taken care of, but Puffballburr hated explaining things.

You learned quick to treat your questions like a valuable resource, and to listen carefully.

Lizardkit was sharp, much sharper than her sister. She caught onto the way that her mother viewed relationships in a very transactional sort of way-- and stayed aware of her balance.

And had to consider the cost of doing the things her mother was fond of, versus what the other kittens and queens in the nursery expected of her.

What Puffball didn't realize when her children were born was that they were family, but they were also ShadowClan. Even if this was not something she had ever felt a connection to.

Deep down, it didn't truly click with her that her children were not extensions of herself.

And when Lizardkit was a child, learning history from the Educator and getting involved in more of the Clan's goings-on, Puffballburr spent less and less time with her. Because she was reconnecting with Marmalade.

When Bracket and Lizard had their apprentice ceremony, Puffballburr was not there.

Lizardpaw's mentor was the infamously powerful, chaotic fighter, Finchflight. Bracketpaw was assigned to Brackenfoot. (There is an earlier post suggesting that Lizi and Finf were going to be related. I decided to make them mentor/apprentice instead.)

Finchflight immediately began to stress the importance of loyalty. Being one of the younger cats who had sympathized with Snowtuft and knowing the secret behind Puffballburr's beginnings, he nurtured a pain within Lizardstripe. Encouraged her to let the distance between her and her family grow.

Eventually, Puffball told her children that they were going to leave ShadowClan. They had family in the town, would be safe there, could start a brand new life together.

And Lizardpaw was shocked.

It was like everything Finchflight had said was true.

And they were going to leave her.

She reacted violently to the suggestion, attacking her mother. Told them that she was going to expose them, lead a patrol right back to their new hiding place, bring them "back home."

In defense of Puffballburr, Bracketpaw brawled with her sister. They fought viciously, until their mother separated them with a desperate, devastating whack to Lizardpaw's head.

Laying dazed on the ground, she heard an apology before passing out.

When she woke up, she was safely protected within a blackthorn bush-- with a nick on the outside of her ear.

She stayed out there for hours, not knowing what to do, where her family had gone, or what she was going to say when she got home.

But, looking at her reflection in a puddle of water, she became so angry at the idea of this being her first scar that she ripped the other ear, on the opposite side.

When the search party found her, they asked what had happened to her. If she had seen her mother or her sister, or if something had gone wrong.

"Nah. Took a nap to get away from them. Ripped my ears on the thornbush."

Later, when she would be interrogated or questioned by people she didn't want to lie to, she would tell a half-truth;

"I did it to myself. Liked how it looked. Last I saw of Puffballburr and Bracketpaw, they were upset I'd done it and left, so I took a nap."

She didn't mind that her Clanmates thought this was weird. She didn't care about whispers that it was all done for attention, or that it was dishonorable to do such a thing and they probably met a predator after storming off, and she didn't even mind the gossip guessing at the "real" reason behind her ripped ears.

The only people who ever got the whole truth were the Forget-Me-Nots. After their disappearance, Lizardstripe didn't talk about her family for years, insisting upon having no further details. Even if it meant that mystery and suspicion would hang around her like a cloud.

BLIZZARDWING: KIN OF SNOWTUFT

Snowtuft's daughter was named Lilyfur. She was a kit when her father slaughtered Pixie's family.

When her mother left her father, she also distanced herself from him. This was something Snowtuft was outraged and saddened by.

But Lilyfur's mother couldn't stand the idea of a kitten-killer trying to stay close to her daughter. How could he look at little babies, the same age as his own child, and kill them?

Lilykit grew up very conflicted. She remembered how much she loved her dad, understood that he was a kitten murderer, but he continued to be so kind to her into adulthood.

It was hard to think of him as someone who could do something so horrible.

Earlier draft had Lilyfur die and her kittens were raised by their kin, Snowtuft, but I'm currently leaning towards Lilyfur being alive but just letting him be an active part of their lives-- in spite of her discomfort.

Because the more time he spent in her life, paradoxically, the more obsessed he became with all the "time he lost out on."

Which ended up including entertaining a lot of conversations about how he'd never done anything wrong, ever, and everyone was mean to him.

Lilyfur: "ok maybe he's not evil but my dad is really annoying <:/ but he's really lonely. He needs me. and i cant take him away from his grandkits"

From this, what Blizzardwing absorbed was the idea that love and forgiveness was always tolerating your family no matter what. This would express itself in his toxic relationship with Hollyflower.

But Blizzardwing now has a sibling. I haven't settled on a name yet-- but I'm playing with him either being Angelshade or Silkflower.

I really like the name "Angelshade" as a reference to the notoriously deadly white mushroom, the Destroying Angel. But also. someone in the audience asked if I could give the prefix "angel" to a cat because it's their name, and I feel a little bad about giving it to a character who is going to be one of the nastiest little background characters in all of BB lmaooooo

i'm so sorry angel (positive), is it okay if there's an angel (derogatory)

ANYWAY, Untitled Blizzardwing Sibling grew up adoring his grandpaw.

Radicalization can be a slow creep. He loved peepaw, so if he was asked when he was young, he would happily repeat the adjusted version of history he was taught.

And then when Snowtuft died, he wanted to remember him fondly. The story slowly changed, becoming more "accurate," just getting more comfortable with the idea of dehumanizing outsiders.

So what, if he killed some kittypet? And if some kits had already been indoctrinated into their kittypet life? It was still a gain for ShadowClan, in the end.

One summer day, without warning, he came home with two little kittens. One was white, one was brown, both had the pinkish tinge of poorly cleaned blood.

He grinned playfully at Brokenstar, and claimed Queen's Rights in a singsong tone.

Because of that rite, no one could ask where he'd gotten those kittens from. But everyone knew he'd done something grim.

Those kits, Whitewater and Brownstone, grew up under the crescendo of Brokenstar's reign, both taking part in the WindClan Massacre.

Whitewater's bloody story includes joining Mudclaw's Rebellion, giving birth to three kits, a souring relationship with her son, condemnation to the Dark Forest, ends in the Battle of the True Eclipse after killing her grandson.

Brownstone's tale includes a relationship with a WindClan cat during the bloodiest period in the history of their two Clans.

And their father's story ends in Chelford, after being exiled from ShadowClan by Nightstar. His canon counterpart is the Unnamed White Rogue from Rise of Scourge, who tries to order Scourge to be his personal servant.

(the other two cats are Braketail, the "Offbrand Brokenstar" pale tabby, and Pirateheart, the gray rogue with green eyes. Glitch Warriors for the pile!)

[sissylittlefeather]

So... I had this dream about Elvis.

It's a little blurry and my English isn't perfect, nos, but I can remember the important bits.

I (the reader, of you wanna write about it ;]) was working as Elvis's assistant and practically loved with him. There where some feelings between us and, eventually, we ended up in bed together. The things were getting heated up, he was rubbing himself through his pants and i was grinding against his thigh.. and just when things where going to get good...

I woke up.

Oh, sweet, sweet nonnie. Your fantastic dream sparked a whole thing for me. Please enjoy this fanfic that resulted from this ask:

Return to Sender

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, dry humping, thigh riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~3.3k

Also decided to base it loosely on this gif:

You were so nervous in your interview that you actually knocked a cup of something off of his desk. As a result, you were pretty sure you did not get the job. But what you didn't know is that he found your stuttering and fidgeting endearing and when you bent over to clean up the cup you spilled, the view he got of your ass made his decision for him.

That's how you ended up as Elvis Presley's private secretary. It's 1959 and he gets so much fan mail these days that he can't manage it all himself. So, he hires you to help him out. He's pleased when you prove to be useful and supremely impressed when you show him that you can mimic his signature perfectly. Still, his interest in you is far from purely functional.

He's not sure how to go about making his first move, especially since you work for him and he'd hate to lose you. You're really quite effective, so he'll have to play this just right. He doesn't want to offend you and run you off for good.

Instead, he spends a lot of time watching you and smiling at you when you catch him looking. You can't figure out why he keeps looking at you. You're not dumb, not even naive really, but it still seems outside the realm of reality that he might be into you for more than your typing skills.

He tests the waters a little with some flirtation here and there, and you don't seem to turn him down, but you also don't seem to reciprocate. He confuses your nervousness with disinterest and tries to stay focused on the task at hand any time you're together. But as time passes, you get more and more comfortable with each other and eventually a kind of friendship forms between you. It's easy to bond as you laugh about some of the crazy things the girls write to him, but you really start to get close when he begins to talk to you. And not just about the letters. Without meaning to, he tells you about his loneliness, his fears, and how much he misses his mama. You're a good listener and he needs you more than he realizes.

Eventually, you get to the end of his time in the service and know he'll be headed back to the states soon. You're not exactly excited about seeing him go, but there's not much you can do to change it, so you take it in stride.

He's not so resigned, though.

If there's even the slightest chance that you might want him, he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by. The night before all of his big army-ending interviews, he asks you to come over. You assume he needs you to get through some letters or something before he leaves, but he has something else entirely different in mind.

“Hey, honey, thank you for coming over so late.” His voice is quiet, shy almost. The room is dimly lit and there's the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. He sits in a large armchair, watching you as you stand in the middle of the room. You nod and tell him that you don't mind.

“You have some new letters that you need help with?” He shakes his head sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“Not really. I just wanted to see ya before I leave.” You blink a few times, confused.

“I'll be there for the interviews tomorrow.” He nods. This is not a surprise, but he wants to talk to you without people around.

“Yeah, but…” He fumbles over the words, trying to say exactly what he feels. The hesitation is heavy in the air between you and it's almost as though the words get caught in his throat when he tries to speak.

“But what, Elvis?” You look down at him and he sighs deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. Without warning, he stands up and walks to you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek gently. There's a moment of nothing but being between you and you see the conviction enter his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and needy. At first, you're so shocked that you stand there with your eyes open and his mouth on yours. You can see his eyelashes where they settle on his cheeks and feel him breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. He pulls back and notices the look on your face. “No? Was that…?”

“Do it again.” A smile creeps across his face and he leans down and kisses you again. This time your eyes close and you melt into him. The taste of him on your lips is exquisite, something between mint and man, and it feels like you'll never get enough. He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands drifting to your hips as he pulls you in close to him, your bodies flush against each other. You moan softly as his lips move down your jaw to your neck and his hands slips down to grab your ass through your dress.

“I've wanted this forever.” His voice rumbles against your throat. You feel his hardness where he presses it against you, the urgency in his hips becoming more obvious.

“Took you long enough.” A little giggle escapes your lips as his hands continue to roam your body, squeezing you where it pleases him. He takes your breasts in both hands and lets out a small whimper. The need for more of him burns inside of you, manifesting in the ache in your center. His cock is so hard it hurts as he rolls against you, tangling one hand in your hair to hold you still as he dips his tongue into your mouth again. You start to pull at his shirt as he walks you backwards through the house toward his bedroom, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

You fumble with buttons, fingers trembling in anticipation. All of a sudden, it seems like his shirt has a hundred buttons and you groan in frustration. He pulls back, chuckling and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. In the hallway, he turns your back to him and puts your hands on the wall, dragging his down your back to your hips. The ache between your thighs is quickly becoming unbearable, your body burning up with the intensity of your need. His hands grip your hips as he ruts against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he unzips your dress, pushing it forward off of you to let it pool at your feet. He turns you to face him, eagerly raking his eyes over you hungrily as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He takes a moment to really appreciate your body in just your underwear and bra.

“What?” You ask playfully, noticing the spellbound look on his face. He shakes his head a little, basking in the scent of your perfume as it mixes with the heat of your body.

“You're even more beautiful than I could've imagined.” He runs his fingertips down the side of your stomach and grips your hip tightly. The last ounce of inhibition leaves you and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to yours. Every ounce of him hums with insatiable desire as his soft mouth moves on yours passionately. He pushes your back to the wall and presses his body tightly against yours, his thigh on your center. Without thinking, you start to rub yourself on his thigh, your body begging for friction against your swollen clit. He groans and starts to roll his hips against you. “Goddamn, baby. Don't stop that.”

Your hands slide around to his back as you pick up speed, grinding your clothed pussy on his leg.

“Oh god, Elvis.” A deep moan floats up and out of you as your aching bud reacts to the delicious sensation of his pants.

“Fuck, baby. That's a good girl. Make yourself cum on me.” He grips your hips and helps you rut against him, chasing your orgasm. The wetness seeps through your panties, soaking the fabric under you, but he doesn't care. He wants you to cum, needs you to cum, his hips stuttering against you as you rub on him.

“I'm s-so close.” It's more of a whimper than a sentence, but he gets your meaning. His grasp on your hips is almost bruising as you grind on him faster and harder. The familiar bubbling heat gathers in your lower belly as the sweat drips between your breasts. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss and then mumbles against you.

“Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go.” And then, like your body knew to listen to him, you cum on command, shuddering and trembling as the orgasm rushes through you, sending bolts of pleasure to your extremities. He starts to slow the rolling of your hips as you go floppy against him. “Good girl. So pretty when you cum.”

“Think I might've ruined your pants.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“They'll wash. Can you walk?” You look at him, your eyes hazy with your post-orgasm daze.

“Huh?”

“I'm nowhere near finished with you.” He smirks.

“I'm not sure-” You don't even get the sentence out before he bends down, throwing you over his shoulder. A squeal escapes your lips as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. He turns on a small light on the nightstand, casting a kind of orange glow around the room. You look at him standing there, the small patch of hair on his chest, his angelic face, and the small wet spot where his dick has leaked precum onto his pants and continues to stand at full attention. He looks at you spread out on the bed and decides at that moment that he'd give you anything you wanted, even his last name if you asked for it.

“I need you, baby.” He palms himself over his pants and you nod, reaching back to unhook your bra. You slip it down your arms and drop it on the floor, moving to push your panties down your legs. He grunts when your pussy becomes visible, moving his hand on his cock a little faster. When you spread your legs, he bites his bottom lip and moans.

“What are you waiting for?” You coo. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy as he quickly unbuttons his pants and lets them drop. Your mouth waters a little as his cock bounces free, big and uncut and weeping precum. He climbs on top of you, arranging himself against your entrance and taking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

“You ready for me, honey?” He asks desperately, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. You nod and he groans, slowly pushing into you. The feeling of his dick stretching you out is overwhelmingly good. Finally, he groans, his whole cock buried deep inside you, balls pressed against your ass, as he resists the urge to pound you silly. Your hands clench around the silky sheets and you breathe, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He looks at you with his eyebrows knit together in concern. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” He smiles down at you and pulls his hips back, sliding his now-wet cock out of you and then rolling them forward again, plunging himself into you. Your eyes roll back and you moan loudly as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of slamming against you. He kisses your ankle gently and fucks into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of your sex hangs in the air. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and he grunts, his release gathering in his balls. The headboard starts to bang against the wall and the little light on the nightstand rocks with the force of your lovemaking.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Such a tight little pussy.” His hair is sweaty on his forehead and you revel in the smell of him as he wraps your leg around his hip and leans down to kiss you, his cock sliding in and out of you. In doing so, he shifts the angle a little and begins to rub against your g-spot. Now, you whimper and moan with every movement of his hips, clawing at his back as he pounds you. You devolve into just a body, soaking in each sensation: skin pressed together, sticky and wet, his tongue in your mouth, insistent and deep, and his cock filling your pussy up again and again. He does the same, sinking into the waves of pleasure, your tight heat wrapped around his dick, squeezing him just right. Everything is sensual as you mix together and quickly lose track of whose sweat is whose.

“Elvisssss…” You whine, another climax crashing into you and burning you up from the inside out. He moans with the feeling of your pussy tightening around him.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Fuck. Gonna… oh fuck!” He pulls out of you at the very last possible second, shooting cum all over the inside of your thighs. His cock throbs and pulses and he collapses on top of you, sticky ropes pumping out of him onto your legs. When he finally finishes, he groans loudly and picks up his head, kissing your lips softly. You giggle and push his hair back off his forehead. He chuckles. “I made a mess.”

“Yes, you did. But I helped.” He laughs and kisses you again.

“Yeah, I'm gonna blame this one on you.” You giggle as he rolls off of you and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. When he's done, he crawls back into bed and pulls you onto his chest. “Stay with me?”

You look up into his eyes and it's obvious he doesn't want to be alone tonight. Honestly, you wouldn't leave him even if you could.

“Of course.” He smiles and nuzzles into your hair. You settle in to sleep with him wrapped around you.

***

When you wake up the next morning, he's already dressed in his full uniform. He moves around the room quietly, but he notices when you stir and smiles softly.

“Hey, baby.” You lift your head up and yawn, stretching.

“You're leaving?” He nods and then sits down on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, I have those interviews. You comin’?” Again, it's clear that he wants you there, so you nod back.

“Oh yeah. I just have to run home and get dressed, but I'll be there.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up. You're still naked from your activities last night and he looks down at you hungrily. He pulls the covers down a little so that he can see your body. “Goddamnit. I hate to leave ya.”

You're not sure if he's talking about this morning or forever. You reach out and take his hand, kissing it gently and then placing it on your breast.

“Fuck.” He climbs into bed in his uniform and pulls you onto him, kissing you deeply and running his hands all over your body.

“Thought you had to go?” You ask between kisses. He groans and buries his face in your neck. The sweet scent of your sweat and sex lingers on your skin and he breathes it in, trying to commit everything about you to memory. He mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, I do. Just wish I could keep you naked in my bed forever.” For a few more seconds, you just hold each other, trying not to think about the future. Then, he pulls away from you and gets out of bed. “I'll see you at the interviews.”

He turns and leaves before he can get back into the bed and stays there until he dies. You sigh and get up, gathering your things and getting dressed. Something is missing, though. You cannot find your panties anywhere. Sighing again, you check your watch. You don't have time to keep looking. At least he'll have something to remember you by.

******

At the interviews, you stand behind him sipping your coffee and watching. The press are snapping photos like crazy and the flash bulbs are almost giving you a headache. You wonder how he stands it. The room is filled with noise and people, but you can't take your eyes off of him. He looks better than he ever has before, but maybe that's because you've seen him naked and know how beautiful he is without clothes. Your eyes drift down a little and you think about what's hiding under his pants, rubbing your thighs together. And that's when you see them: your panties, just barely peeking out of his pocket.

Your mouth pops open, but you shut it quickly. That little shit. He stole your panties! And he has them with him!

You grab a pen and a scrap of paper and scribble out a note. Motivated by his boldness, you walk up behind him and then lean forward, slipping the note into his jacket. He looks up and realizes it's you, his heart stopping in his chest. Still, he plays it off for the press and keeps going.

However, the second he's able, he pulls out the note and reads it eagerly.

You thief. I see what you stole and I want them back! Call me before you leave.

He grins widely, kisses the note, and folds it up, adding it to the pocket where your panties are. His intention was only to keep them, but now his blood is pumping with the possibility of seeing you again. A thought hits him and he sits with it for a bit. By the time he gets home, he's determined to make it a reality. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

“I'm not givin’ em back.” Your face breaks into a smile.

“You better!” He chuckles.

“Alright, you can have ‘em. BUT-” He pauses for effect and you just about die with anticipation. You hear him take a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “You have to come get them in Memphis.”

Your mouth drops in shock. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that.

“In Memphis?”

“Yes. Come home with me.” His heart is in his throat as he waits for your response. He twists the phone cord around his finger and bites his lip. If only he could see your face. The suspense is killing him.

“Okay.” What else could you say?

“Okay?” He asks excitedly, standing up with the phone.

“Yes.” Your heart is racing, but there's nothing that important keeping you here. Not if he's asking you.

He does a silent fist pump and thanks God that you said yes.

“I'll come get you on my way to the airport. Pack to stay for a while. Like, forever.”

“Elvis…”

“Listen, baby. It took me a long time to find you. I'm not lettin’ you get away anytime soon. You gonna argue?” You think for a second about what you're agreeing to and then decide to take a leap of faith.

“Not at all.”

“Good. And baby?”

“Yeah?” He hesitates for a second, his nerves getting the better of him. Then, he just says it, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“I love you.” Your heart stops.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222

[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!!

[starmatzz]

Do you write omorashi?

i do!💙my first time writing to, so pardon me :D

bf!mingi x gf!reader | contains mature content

nsfw tags

omorashi, piss, piss kink, wetting, humiliation, praising, pet names, urinal denial, exhibitionism, dom/sub, forced urinal denial, bladder control

You were on a date with Mingi, strolling through the city on a beautiful day. Stopping by a cozy boba shop, he ordered you a large bubble tea without hesitation.

“Drink, sweetheart. Don’t wanna have a headache, hm?” he said with a gentle smile, his voice filled with warmth. His thumb brushed softly over your knuckles as he held your hand, his touch reassuring and sweet.

It was a hot day, and the bubble tea had disappeared quickly, the cool sweetness refreshing you as you walked through the park with Mingi. Tossing the empty cup into the trash, you sighed in relief, only for him to suddenly pull out a bottle of water from his bag.

He handed you the bottle, his expectant gaze never leaving you. You looked up at him curiously, tilting your head.

“I’ve just finished a large bubble tea, baby,” you pouted, lips forming a small frown.

Mingi only shook his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His warmth contrasted the summer heat, but it was comforting nonetheless.

“Drink up,” he murmured, voice gentle yet firm.

You huffed playfully but unscrewed the cap anyway, taking a small sip. He watched you with quiet satisfaction, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns against your side.

“Good girl,” he whispered, just enough for you to hear.

The day went on, and Mingi never let up. Every so often, he’d bring the bottle to your lips with that same gentle yet insistent look, and you’d drink without thinking much of it. His hand stayed comfortably around your waist, his touch grounding as you wandered through the park together.

But soon, a familiar pressure started building in your lower stomach. You shifted slightly, realizing that all the liquid you’d been drinking was catching up to you.

Mingi noticed your fidgeting and glanced down at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was also a hint of amusement in his eyes—like he already knew.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “I… need to pee,” you admitted quietly, cheeks heating up.

Mingi’s lips twitched, clearly holding back a laugh. “Really?” he teased, squeezing your waist lightly, “I don't see a bathroom anywhere though, and we still need to go buy groceries.”

Your eyes widened as his words sank in, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Mingi,” you whispered, half in disbelief, half in something else entirely.

He only chuckled, pulling you even closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. “Guess you gotta be a good girl and hold it,” he murmured again, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, sending another wave of heat through you.

Walking into the mall hand in hand with Mingi, you felt your body grow tense with every passing minute. The cool air-conditioning was a relief against the summer heat, but it did nothing to ease the warmth spreading through your body—not from the temperature, but from the struggle to hold it in.

Your steps slowed slightly, thighs pressing together instinctively as you fought against the growing pressure. Mingi, of course, noticed immediately. His grip on your hand tightened, and when you glanced up at him, his eyes were filled with amusement and something darker beneath the surface.

“What's the matter, sweetheart?” he murmured, leaning in just enough for only you to hear.

You shot him a glare, your cheeks burning. “This is your fault,” you huffed, shifting on your feet.

He chuckled, utterly unbothered, his free hand resting lightly on your lower back. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “But I wonder how long my good girl can last.”

“Mingi,” you warned, your voice a mix of frustration and something dangerously close to anticipation.

He only grinned, tugging you a little closer as you weaved through the crowd. “Let’s take our time, yeah?” he teased, his fingers pressing just slightly against your back, as if testing your resolve.

Mingi hummed softly as he flipped through a rack of shirts, completely at ease while you stood beside him, barely able to focus. The pressure in your lower stomach was unbearable now, and every passing second felt like torture.

Holding up a shirt, he turned to you with big, innocent eyes. “What do you think about this one, baby?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if he wasn’t fully aware of your current predicament.

You clenched your fists, shifting on your feet as you swallowed down another wave of desperation. “Mingi, please…” you whined, your voice coming out shaky, laced with both frustration and urgency.

His lips twitched, fighting back a smirk as he placed the shirt back on the rack. “Please what, sweetheart?” he asked, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

You shot him a pleading look, your legs pressing together instinctively. “You know what,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you tried to keep your composure.

Mingi let out a soft chuckle, stepping closer until his lips were just inches from your ear. “I do,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that made your heart stutter. “But I just love seeing you like this.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as Mingi’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his broad frame pressing against your back. His touch was warm, comforting—until his hands slid down slightly, applying the faintest pressure against your already full bladder.

Your whole body tensed. “Mingi,” you whimpered, grabbing onto his wrists to stop him, but he didn’t budge.

A shaky breath left you as you clenched your thighs together, your entire body burning from both embarrassment and something else entirely.

“Mingi, please,” you tried again, your voice softer this time, more desperate.

Suddenly, Mingi pulled out the cursed water bottle again, the plastic crinkling slightly in his grip as he raised it to your lips. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you looked up at him. His usual playful expression was gone, replaced by something darker—something that left no room for disagreement.

“Please…” you whispered, voice shaky, your thighs pressing together instinctively.

He didn’t say a word. His gaze was steady, unwavering, filled with a quiet dominance that sent a shiver down your spine. With one hand still resting on your waist, he tilted the bottle ever so slightly, the cool water threatening to spill past the rim.

“Drink,” he murmured, his voice low, firm.

Your lips parted, but you hesitated, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was testing you, pushing you, waiting to see if you’d obey.

Your body screamed at you to refuse—to beg, to plead—but the weight of his stare, the way his fingers pressed into your hip, sent a different kind of heat through you.

Slowly, you took a sip, the liquid cool against your lips yet making your entire body feel unbearably warm.

Mingi smirked, satisfied, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice barely above a whisper.

The minutes dragged on, each step feeling like an eternity as you tried to hold it together. The pressure had become unbearable, and you were so close to losing control. Every movement felt like it made things worse, the burning need to pee overwhelming your senses. You gripped Mingi’s arm, your fingers digging into his sleeve as your eyes pleaded with him.

“Please… Mingi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the effort to stay composed.

He glanced down at you, the usual teasing glint replaced by something deeper—a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He could see you were on the verge of breaking, and he seemed to enjoy every second of it.

“Let go then,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you thought you might lose it. You shook your head, too embarrassed, too overwhelmed to give in, but Mingi didn’t budge. He gently tugged you behind the mall, where it was quieter, away from the bustling crowd.

“You’ve been so good,” he murmured, his hand on your back, guiding you forward. “But you don’t have to hold it anymore.”

His words were like a wave crashing over you, and despite the embarrassment, the relief that came with his permission was overwhelming. You looked up at him, desperate, and for the first time, you realized he wasn’t just playing with you—he was going to let you go.

Mingi pressed you gently against the wall, his arms wrapping securely around you, keeping you close. His warmth surrounded you, but it did nothing to ease the overwhelming embarrassment burning through you.

Then, his hand pressed firmly against your bladder, and a shaky whimper escaped your lips as your body betrayed you. Your fingers tightened around his arms, your face buried in his chest as heat flooded your cheeks.

You let go.

The relief was almost instant, washing over you like a tidal wave, but the humiliation made it hard to enjoy it fully. Your body trembled slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut, too mortified to move.

Mingi’s grip on you never wavered. He leaned down, his lips brushing the top of your head as he whispered, “Nobody’s watching, don’t worry. Just me.”

His voice was low, soothing, yet laced with that unmistakable amusement. You could feel the smirk on his lips as he glanced around, making sure the two of you were still alone.

You let out a soft, embarrassed whine as you felt the warm liquid trickling down your legs, your body trembling from both relief and mortification. A quiet sob escaped your lips, your fingers gripping Mingi’s arms even tighter as you buried your face in his chest, too ashamed to look up.

Mingi's smirk widened as he took in the sight before him, shaking his head in amusement. “Oh look at you, look at you,” he teased, his voice filled with a mix of affection and mirth. “Couldn't hold it in and wet yourself, hmm? You're so dirty.”

The contrast between your humiliation and the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating thing in the world—sent a shiver through you.

His fingers brushed against your lower back in slow, teasing circles, his warmth pressing against you as if to remind you that you weren’t alone.

“You did so well, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispered, the praise sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go,” Mingi said, grabbing your hand and leading you toward the mall bathrooms.

You waddled behind him, your face burning with embarrassment, every step a reminder of what had just happened.

As you reached the restroom, he suddenly stopped and pulled something from his bag. Your eyes widened as he handed you a neatly folded skirt and a fresh pair of underwear. New pair of sneakers, you wanted for a long time, followed after, along with socks. 

“A reward,” he said smoothly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Change into this.”

You hesitated, still stunned by how prepared he was. “Mingi… You planned this,” you muttered, gripping the clothes with shaky hands.

He only winked, smirking as he leaned in. “Maybe,” he teased, his voice low and knowing. “But you were such a good girl for me. You deserve something nice, don’t you, y/n?”

Your breath hitched, and you quickly turned toward the bathroom, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze any longer. As you stepped inside, heart pounding, you realized one thing—Mingi wasn’t just teasing you.

He owned you in that moment, and you both knew it.

[whenindoubtfangirlitout]

Guys, I gotta be honest...

If this version of Bruce Wayne told me to get on me knees,

I'm down and tying my hair back. Absolutely no hesitation. I don't even need to be hit with sex pollen. He's enough.

You'd have to have Superman pry me away from this man. Sure, he's been withered by age and illness, but he can still get it. I mean, he's Bruce Wayne. The Batman. Despite his retirement, this man could easily throw or pin me and I would be begging for more. I'd gladly be tossed around like a rag doll by him. I'd allow myself to be nothing more than an outlet. Like, please, take your decades of frustration out on me 😩. No strings attached.

And, I'm sorry? Him with Ace? I'm swooning. A man with a soft spot for animals is one of my weaknesses. He may seem hardened and cold by the tragedies he'd witnessed, but his dog will get a smile out every single time. And the way Ace loves and protects him? You just know Bruce is so good to his furry baby 😭. Ace would be eating a raw food diet enhanced with every vitamin and mineral needed to keep him in top shape for as long as possible. His coat would be so shiny and his teeth would be so clean, both getting brushed daily. They would go on morning and evening walks around the garden, just soaking in the negative rays from Gotham's cloudy skies. And I'd be earning brownie points by getting this dog to love me. I would do anything for Ace. I love him so much.

And him glaring at me? Knees weak. I'm folding on sight. I love the authority. Thrive on it even. While I'm doing all the work, he'd be giving all the commands. Every single move would be directed by him. He'd be in complete control, able to level me with just a look. And the things he would say to me? He'd be degrading me during and praising me after. It'd be an emotional roller coaster but I'd always come crawling back.

I don't care what type of issues this might be a manifestation of, but I'm down bad for this man. And don't even get me started on Alfred-

That's it, I have to take matters into my own hands. I'm writing an xReader smut of old man Bruce Wayne. Let me know if you're interested, but it's happening no matter what at this point.

I also just wanna know I'm not alone.

[lillxart]

Sujamma Sundas!

Thank you for the tag @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @dirty-bosmer @firefly-factory @illumiera @thequeenofthewinter @hircines-hunter @ladytanithia @pocket-vvardvark @sanza-17 @ijiwaruuma @sulphuricgrin @kiir-do-faal-rahhe @fujisakisan @skyrim-forever

Don't have to participate if you don't wanna :p

Topic: This week, Sujamma wants to know about YOUR OC's special someone. What makes their relationship special? How did they meet? Were they enemies to lovers? Lovers to enemies? Lovers AND Enemies? Are they romantic or platonic? What's their favorite way to cuddle? Favorite date night? Anything and everything you can think of 💕

WHO DO I CHOOSE?

Ondolemar or Hi'rem?? -3- hmmmmmm~

I'll go with Ondolemar!~

Snow White's first ever true love is Justiciar Ondolemar! :P He's her first hubby and they get married in the forests of Riften in secret.

What makes Snow White's relationship special with Ondolemar is he's very patient and loving with her and doesn't berate her for how childish and niave she is, or how differently her brain works. Instead of calling her an idiot (though he did used to do that) he redirects her and shows her the right way to go about something, and also helps her verbalize her emotions and communicate properly when she's having a hard time doing so herself.

They met in Markarth. Snow White heard about the infamous murder capital and thought it would be a great chance to get some money since she's always broke. They crossed paths with each other and for Snow White, it was love at first sight. "You have the privilege of speaking to the Thalmor, bask in it!" That was IT for her. Snow White doesn't know it, but she has a thing for men with enormous egos. XD

I wouldn't call it enemies to lovers, but it was definitely a 'Annoying-fly-that-never-leaves-me-alone to lovers' at least, on Ondolemar's end.

100% Romantic, they get mushy with each other and everything.

Snow White will cuddle with Ondolemar litterally anywhere, she will cuddle with him in Black Reach if the need arises. No Falmer, just cuddles. For Ondolemar his favorite place to cuddle Snow White is on the couch at Vlindrel Hall after eating a lovely dinner. Favorite date night to Snow White would be exploring a crypt together, for Ondolemar it would be walking through one of Alinor's beautiful flower gardens.

Some extra facts~! When Snow White throws a fit Ondolemar normally waits until she tuckers herself out then gives her a glass of warm milk to help her calm down. Does the trick every time.

At first Snow White's toddler-like behavior infuriated him but after he accepted he was in love with her and got closer Ondolemar realized he is literally no better. He goes into a blind rage whenever he hears Talos worshippers speak their nonsense or when Nords go out of their way to make his life difficult. The difference is that Snow White is the way she is by no fault of her own and she actively recognizes the problem and tries to fix it. Ondolemar, however, is not only older than her but wiser, and as an esteemed mer he has absolutely no excuse for his own 'fits'. Hence why her temper tantrums don't faze him anymore.

Ondolemar loves how absolutely ready Snow White is to drag him into some mischievous scheme, just slotting him into her whims like he's supposed to be there. Gives him a chuckle and makes his life more interesting. His favorite so far has been "Let's have sex in Jarl Ulfric's bed! :D"

When Ondolemar is having a bad day Snow White will lay on the floor by his desk and write or journal or color or just do something. Her being in the general area relaxes him. When he starts drumming his fingers against the desk or gets a little too aggressive with his pen strokes she'll get up and hug him from behind, silently letting him know that its time to take a break, or gives him room to vent his troubles.

Snow White will hide underneath Ondolemar's bed and pretend she's a monster. Partially because she thinks its funny, and partially because being underneath Ondolemar's bed makes her feel safe. Surrounded by his scent. She feels loved that way, that she's allowed to be under there and know that Ondolemar will let her stay under there as long as she needs.

[gooobraghhh]

hello. chill if nah but do you want to share some advice for teasing/flirting w people? I know this guy, trans, loses it every time I call him "good boy" or "handsome" but I'm running out of tricks!! But he's so fun to teaseeee I don't wanna run out

I mean it depends on the person but if he’s into that kind of thing I can tell you other stuff he might enjoy, leaning more praise because of the examples you gave me. Pretty boy, an actual pet name like puppy, doggy, pet, or something, or like a overly cute nickname based on his name are some options to incorporate. Something id suggest is kind of dropping something teasing on him very suddenly in conversation. Innocently asking him to do something and then being like “aww what a good boy, you’re so good at doing what you’re told” is an easy example/ way to set it up. It’s just super cute to watch them get all surprised and clearly turned on.

Another thing I enjoy for teasing is like a demeaning compliment. Situation dependent but something like “it’s a good thing you’re so handsome/ cute because you’re not the brightest, puppy” after he like doesn’t understand a thing or makes a little mistake. Maybe if you helped him with something random you could say like “what would a pet like you do if I wasn’t here to take care of you”. These are just examples in the nature of what you’re going for, you’re gonna need think of little comments based on what’s happening in your conversation and cater them to what the guy likes. Also think about whats gender affirming when you’re choosing what to compliment and insult. For trans men I usually like to insult their intelligence since being like a dumb blockhead is just kind of a guy thing and usually won’t actually hurt any feelings, I’d lift them up in like appearance (handsome, cute, pretty etc), usefulness/obedience, (good job, good boy, what a good listener,you take it so well etc), or any other trait you know that specific person would enjoy being complimented on.

I’d also suggest possessiveness if everyone’s comfortable. My puppy, My pet, My pretty boy. Be a good boy for me, touch yourself for me, cum for me ( obviosuly more risqué but just add for me to most commands). I find most people enjoy the security and feeling of being wanted that comes with possessive talk and it just makes the praise all the more addictive.

Another thing is if hes responding very positively start making him directly participate. Who’s good boy?, you’re really so desperate for me huh? Tell me how bad you want it?. Just prompt him to respond. Either he does it and it’s adorable and embarrassing or he sputters out because answering is too embarrassing for him and you get to watch him get all flustered. Works well for some degration to, “you’re really such a slut huh?” Or something similar so that he either agrees or pathetically tries to deny it while still actively getting turned on which you can make fun of him for. It’s kind of little conversational trap.

Also keep in mind tone for all of this, I think that kind of condescending, patronizing, overly sweet tone is my go to. It’s kind of like everything he is doing is so cute but in a way thats actively demeaning to him. You don’t have to do that though. A Genuine sounding sweet voice can be very fun if you incorporate a bit more degration. Like someone sounding 100% sincerely nice while they’re calling you degrading names and making fun of you is super hot. Just find what works for the both of you. If it’s flirting over text then there’s only so much you can do but writing out the occasional condescending “awww” or telling him how irl you’re giggling at him can kind of bridge that gap. But like say those things honestly, don’t make up how you’re reacting just share it with him if it’ll add to the dirty talk.

Anyway hope this all helps, break that guys mind for me <3

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Can you write a fic where the reader loses her virginity to Darry? Thank you sm!!!

Of course, of course... I have an idea for this... :]

Favorite Cheerleader

Synopsis: Cheerleader Captian and the Football Captian, a tale as old as time. Sex in the locker room? Also a tale as old as time.

Tags: Fingering, oral sex, high school sweet hearts to college sweethearts, p in v, mutual virginity loss, protected sex (we know this man is responsible), pre book, pre accident.

Author's Note: I don't know football, can you tell?

"Push 'em back!" The cheerleaders started as the Golden Hurricane's played the Defense. "Hit 'em hard!" Darry caught the ball. "Make 'em fight!" He threw the ball to his teammate. "For every yard!"

Darry held off the other team as he watched the wide reciever, a quick runner, make a run for the TD. "Push 'em back!" The cheerleaders started again. "Hit 'em hard!" He looked over at the cheerleaders, mainly his girlfriend, the cheer captian. "Make 'em fight!" He snapped back to the game and watched his teammate keep running.

"For every yard!" The cheerleaders shouted just as the winning Touchdown was scored. "Gooo Hurricanes!"

Darry was sitting in the locker room, still reeling from everything. His teammates were all out smiling and laughing in their uniforms while he sat in the locker room. The rest of his team was probably celebrating with the cheer leaders, and to some degree... He was too. His lovely girlfriend was inbetween his legs, gently sucking his cock.

"Damn girl..." Darry smiled as he played with her hair, gently guiding her head up and down. "You sure you're ready to go all the way? I don't really wanna force you.. Plus, we've only done head before."

She looked up at Darry through hooded eyes before pulling back, coughing a bit before moving onto his lap. "I am, I won't lie..." She whispered against his skin, her voice heavy.

"Well... In that case..." Darry reached down and pushed her underwear to the side before gently rubbing along her slit. His calloused thumb finds her clit. "Wet already? Dirty girl..."

"Only for you, Darry..." She whispered as leaned over and gently kissed him while he touched her. Darry smiled softly and kissed her back, their lips moving together as he rubbed her clit and massaged her gummy walls.

Soft stiffled sighs that escaped her lips were like music to Darry, they sounded like god himself was playing music for him. "You sound so good babe... I can only imagine what you'll sound like when we actually get going..." He whispered after they pulled apart, licking his lips before moving down and starting to pepper her skin with red love bites.

"Fuck..." He hissed softly as he moved you to sit on the bench. Darry hooked her legs over his shoulders and leaned in, rubbing her clit in small circles. "I'm going to prep you... I don't want you hearting when you take my dick for the first time..." With that, Darry leaned forward and licked a stripe though her folds.

His hands gripped her thighs as he felt the shiver that rolled down her spine. The sounds of his quiet curses at her taste and her muttered prayers and praises enveloped the locker room like a heavy blanket. "Darry..." She panted as her fingers curled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to her core where she needed him most.

Darry rubbed the inside of her thighs while he licked at her clit, moaning softly at the taste. His nails dug into her thighs before releasing his grip and using his now free hand to start fingering her, loosening her cunt up.

Darry had dreamed of this day, fucked his fist in his single college room after seeing you in your cheer uniform during practice. He loved you for a bunch of other reasons, but the thought of finally getting to feel you wrapped around him for the first time was a common fantasy for him. He is a young man, he has his needs that need to be taken care of but he wasn't so much of a scum bag to pump and dump a random girl at a party. Darry loved you.

"Darry... Darry please!" Her whines roused him from his day dreams, now aware that he had already made her cum. "Pleasee!"

Darry, ever the gentleman, wiped the slick from his lips and licked it from his fingers before leaning over her body while rolling on a condom. His hand gently gripped the base of his cock and he took a deep breath. "Ready doll?" He asked quietly as he rubbed his protected tip against her slick pussy, his breath catching as his tip caught on the lisp of her cunt.

"Always..." Her voice quivered as she pulled him down and kissed him so her voice was quiet as he pushed into her. A soft sigh escaped both of them, his eyes squeezed shut as her teeth bit at her lips. Darry let out a soft groan as she gripped his shoulders, having to resist the urge to cum too soon. "Damn..." He whispered as he rested his head against her shoulder.

He had to bite her shoulders just to keep himself sane, the feeling of her walls constricting around him just made this whole thing harder. When Darry got the all clear to start moving, he started slowly, gently thrusting. Soft noises of pleasure escaped both of their lips as he pleasured them both.

"Damn.. Darry...!" She whined as her fingers tangled in his hair and brought him down for a passion filled kiss, their tongues tangling. Darry grunted softly as his hips started to move faster, chasing his high while rubbing your clit.

"Fuck.... FUC-" Darry moaned as he leaned down and pressed a rough, passionate kiss to your lips as he came in the condom, letting out whines at the feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice. "Holy fuck... Shit that feels good..." He shivered as he looked at your expression, twisted up in pleasure.

[terrortwinunicorn]

The One With The Wedding

Narrator's POV

The following day, Luis and y/n had left to go get their marriage license. Meanwhile, Demi and Matt stayed back at the house, setting up and waiting for Joshua Fatu and the few friends and family members they called to be their guests to arrive.

Joshua dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, pink and blue sneakers, and a blazer knocked on the door, being the first to arrive. He rang the doorbell, and Demi answered with a huge smile on her face.

"I barely understood your message on the phone. What's this about y/n and Luis getting married?" he inquired, as Demi stepped aside allowing Josh into the house.

"They decided to not waste anymore opportunities and get married as soon as possible. They want you to marry them," explains Demi "They went to town hall to get their license."

"Alright, but did they want to get married today?" asks Josh.

Demi nods gently with a huge smile on her lips. "Yup!" she giggles. "Matt and I are decorating and setting up the chairs outside by the pool," as Matt came into the living room.

"Josh can I get some help," asked Matt as he joined them "Setting up some chairs pool side where Luis and y/n want to get married."

"Of course uce," smiles Josh as he took off the suit jacket tossing it over the back of the sofa following Matt pool side.

The doorbell rings again and Demi answered it. It was Luis's brother Alex who had gone to grab the food they ordered.

"I picked up the sub and wrap trays, and then I also got chips, a couple of vegetable trays, a couple of fruit trays, some different pre-made salads, cookies, and a sheet cake, as well as drinks, but I need help carrying all of it in," Alex says, pointing over his shoulder at his car.

"MATT. JOSH. We need to bring the food in," yells Demi.

Matt and Josh came in from outside as Jonathan Fatu and his wife Trinity walked up the sidewalk.

"What's going on?" asked Trinity as everyone piled out of the house.

"Bringing the food Alex picked up in," said Josh as Jonathan and Trinity turn and walks with the group.

"Talk about a village," said Trinity as she grabs the cake that Alex had the bakery write Congratulations Luis and y/n in purple and black.

"Hey when my best friends say they wanna get married asap I'm gonna make sure that they have an amazing wedding," said Demi "They gave me thirty six hours and well I was able to get everything together."

"Steven is getting our parents, step dad, sister, brother in law, niece and nephew from the airport," smiled Alex as he hands Matt the sub and wrap trays as Jonathan got the vegetable trays and Josh grabbed the fruit trays as Demi grabs the drinks as a car pulled up behind Alex's SUV. More people got out.

"Need help?" asked Charlie as he shut his driver's side door.

Demi hands him the drinks that were in her hands. She grabbed the salads as more cars arrived in front of Luis and y/n's house. Steven got out of an SUV before opening the passenger side doors for his mom, Diana, and sister, Tanya.

"What else needs to be done?" asked Sam, Charlie's wife.

"We have to still decorate the house," said Demi as they all walked into the house everyone having something in their hands.

"Set up chairs," said Matt, and Josh.

"Where's Luis and y/n?" asked Diana.

"Getting their marriage license," explained Demi.

Damian's POV

Y/N and I are heading home after obtaining our marriage license. I was in the driver's seat as Y/N sat in the passenger seat watching out the window.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I inquire.

She turned her head to me, a smile on her face.

"Just thinking. By the end of today I will be Mrs. y/n Martínez."

I grin as I take her hand in mine before bringing it to my lips, kissing the back of it.

"And honestly I can't wait to say you're my wife," I smile. "And I can't wait for tonight," I smirk.

She blushes lightly. "Remember we will have house guests," she teased.

"I accept the challenge," I chuckle.

She smiles as she shakes her head, "Luis, I honestly don't know what I'm going to do with you," she murmured.

“Well, first you say 'I do' to me. Then we dance and eat. We tell everyone to get lost, and we then have the entire house to ourselves. After that, we christen every inch of our house in newlywed bliss.”

"You do know Demi already told us we have one day off from telling the Angelo and Ginger wedding story," she giggles" I will still have to have a voice."

"I mean, I could easily just tell them about the welcome party," I smirk, wiggling my eyebrows.

"You're awful," she teased "It does suck that your family, Charlie and Sam can't stay longer."

"They dropped everything to fly down for the day to be here," I pointed out.

"I know that," she says "And that means the world to me."

"Me too. But look at it this way down the line we can throw a kick ass party celebrating this," I smile.

"I do like that. Especially since not everyone could make it on thirty-six hours' notice," she points out.

"True. I'm glad Misty and Nate are here for the birth of Ashlyn and Max's daughter," I said.

She nods, "Well, since Ash's mom is now gone, Misty is her only mom." She smiles as I pull into our gated community. Pulling up to our house, we see all the cars of our loved ones.

Y/N smiles at me, "Ready, mi amor?" I question, taking her hand in mine as I pull into our driveway. She nods.

"Let's get married," she smiles.

"Yes," I smile as we got out of the car before we are both engulfed by our guests. Demi, Trinity, Sam, my sister Tanya, Mama and Misty whisk y/n out of my sight "But?!" My pops, brothers, brother in law, Charlie, Jonathan, Josh, Matt and Nate stop me from following "Guys come on let me go."

"Sorry, we are more afraid of the women than we are of you," Alex laughed. "Come on, we have your clothes in the guest room.

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Narrator's POV

"Next time you guys want me to follow just ask. No need to kidnap me," y/n laugh lightly.

"We didn't kidnapping you," smiles Demi as she sat her in front of her vanity "We are simply getting you ready for your wedding ceremony."

Y/N glances in the mirror at Demi, "You know I can easily get myself ready right?"

"Nonsense," laughs Misty, "When will we have another opportunity to get you dolled up like this?"

Y/N rolls her eyes. "You do know ninety-nine point nine percent of the time when it's Luis and I, he doesn't see me in makeup, and when he does, it's simple minus my bold red lip."

"Well, it's not just Luis and you, y/n," Demi smiles as she drops to her knee beside y/n, looking in the mirror at y/n.

"I'm well aware of that Demi," sighs y/n "But please make me still look like me."

"Promise," smiles Tanya "Even if I have to smack everyone. You will still be you."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," laughs Trinity. "Remember, I will help slap people."

Y/N laughs lightly as she turned in the chair, looking at the women who surrounded her: from Misty, who means the most to her, seeing as she is family, to Diana and Tanya, who by the end of the day will be family, Demi and Trinity, who are her sisters by different misters, and Sam, who has quickly become a close confidant and friend.

"Okay, let's get me ready," she smiles before the women smile, and Trinity and Demi both squeal in delight, making y/n shake her head and slightly regret saying let's get me ready.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, the men are having a glass of whiskey. Luis was smartly dressed in Y/N's favorite suit: his black suit and purple dress shirt. Luis Senior placed the boutonniere into the lapel of the jacket.

"Ahí está, hijo mío, estás listo para casarte," smiles Luis Senior. (There it is, my son, you are ready to get married)

Luis smiles at his father and says, "Gracias, pops. I can't wait to be married," he smiles broadly.

Luis Senior cups Luis's cheek and says, "I'm so proud of you, mi hijo. I am so happy for you. Y/N is amazing, and your mother and I love her so much. We are so happy you two found each other nearly thirty-three years ago, and we are so happy that she's joining our family officially."

Luis chuckles, "Thanks, pops. Just have one regret." He waves the hand with the whiskey glass in it. "And that's I didn't tell y/n sooner I loved her. Just think this could be a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary if I had found a set and told y/n the night of my senior prom." He took a swig of whiskey before looking at the men before him. His pops, brothers, brother-in-law, best friend, three men who started as co-workers but quickly became soul brothers and Nate, his soon-to-be cousin "Let's get me married off, boys," he raised his glass.

Demi walked into the small lounge that Luis and the other men were in. "She's ready, and she's going to take your breath away," she smiled at Luis.

Luis let out a low and slow shaky breath. He had been basically preparing for this day, that y/n walked into her great aunt and great uncle's place as Francesca was preparing him lunch while she babysat him that July second day in 1993.

"Then let's get me married off," says Luis as all the men polish off the whiskey they had.

🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷🇵🇷

Luis stood at the top of the aisle with Josh to his right and Charlie, Alex, and Steven on his left. He looked out at the guests who had joined them awaiting the arrival of y/n.

"You good uce?" whispered Josh as he leaned into him.

Luis nods "Fine," he smiles as Vivaldi: The Four Seasons, Violin Concerto in E Major began. Tanya began the walk down the aisle followed Misty and then Demi. Once Demi made it to the top of the aisle. Matt changed the selection to Wedding Melody: Bridal Chours /Wedding March- Traditional Version by Jim Brickman. Luis exhales as y/n came to the top of the aisle on Nate's arm as everyone rose to their feet. She wore a lilac capped sleeve dress with an A-line skirt. It's one of Luis's favorites.. He smiles as their eyes met. Y/N has tears in her eyes and Luis wipes away a few of his own before crossing his hands in front of him as y/n and Nate walk down the aisle.

Damian's POV

Y/N and Nate made it to the end of the aisle. They stood side by side as Josh took a deep breath before...

"Family and Friends," he says, "We are gathered here today to join Luis Berrios Martínez Junior and y/n y/m/n y/l/n in holy matrimony. If anyone can show just cause as to why they should not be wed, please let them speak now or forever hold their peace." When no one objected and even if they did, they would have probably been thrown into the pool by Demi and Trinity. "Please be seated," Josh gestures to have everyone sit. Once they did, he pressed forward, "Who gives this woman to be wed to this man?"

"I do," said Nathaniel as he shakes my hand before giving me y/n's hand. He sat beside Matt.

Y/N and I face Josh "Luis, do you take y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I smile as I wipe away a stray tear falling down my cheek.

"Y/N, do you take Luis to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?" says Josh.

"I do," says y/n, her voice choked with emotion.

"Now as I understand you two have written your own vows," says Josh, "Thank God because vows are a lot of words and this uce doesn't have time for that," making all of us laugh "Okay, now turn to one another, and when you're ready, start your vows."

I pull a small notebook from my suit jacket pocket before opening it and looking at it, but I decide to put it back and wing it. Taking y/n's hands in mine, I exhale slowly before I begin. My eyes meet y/n's as I begin to speak.

"Y/N, when we met on July second, nineteen ninety-three, when you walked into the kitchen of your great aunt Francesca and great uncle Salvatore's, I was taken aback even at ten. I was basically brand new to the country even though I was born here. I remember Miss Frankie saying, 'Luis, this is my niece Y/N, she's staying here this summer.' I smile at the memory as y/n reached up and wiped away my tears before cupping my cheek and caressing it with the side of her thumb as I press forward. "I was shy, and so were you, as you gave me a small wave and a very quiet Hi. I shyly waved back, and I was even quieter in my Hola. Then Mrs. Frankie explained to you that I had just moved back to New York from Puerto Rico, and my first language is Spanish, but I knew some English."I laughed lightly, "Who knew that day would spark a friendship and love that has lasted for the better part of nearly thirty-three years? Now today, as we stand here exchanging vows, I thank my lucky stars you took a chance on a shy kid from Puerto Rico." I smiled, and how you sat with me so patiently teaching me English, even if I did butcher it in the beginning. Reading Dr. Seuss was fun, and I still don't want green eggs and ham," y/n giggles lightly, nodding in agreement. "But as the years past like years tend to do. My love and appreciation for you grew and I looked forward to those summers when you would come to the Bronx for your yearly visits. Then as we became teenagers I knew my heart had found the piece that fit perfectly into it. That piece was you and yes it took too many years for me to realize my missing piece was you," 'too many' says Demi from beside y/n. Making all of us smile "Yes, too many, but when I did, I didn't want to waste another minute without you by my side. And now today, as you take my last name, if I could tell ten-year-old me, you did find the happily ever after your mom always wished for, and that happily ever after begins and ends with your best friend in the world. Te amo mucho, mi vida hermosa. Siempre y para siempre."

Everybody wipes away tears as y/n looks at me with tears falling down her face, yet smiling. I reach up, cupping her cheek as I wipe away the tears.

"Great, now I have to follow that," she laughs lightly. "As if public speaking didn't scare me to the core of my soul. Now I have to follow that? Thanks, amor," she teased.

I chuckled "I'm sorry amor," I smile as I press a kiss to her forehead "Just keep your eyes on me and everything will be fine."

She nods as she looked at me and only me. She let out a slow and steady breath before she began, "Luis. The day we met in Aunt Frankie and Uncle Sal's kitchen was a day that I will never forget. I wore a pale blue sun dress and wore my hair in pigtails, and you wore a red and white raglan t-shirt and dark blue jeans. You wore your black hair in a bowl cut. But I will have to freely admit I had the worst case of puppy love. When you smiled at me, I could swear I was an instant ten-year-old puddle of goo. That first summer, the language barrier was tough, but we managed to understand each other without talking." She smiles as she holds my hands as she presses on, "The next year we talked a mile a minute to one another; at least we did according to Aunt Frankie." I laughed, as did y/n. "We met in the summer of nineteen ninety-three, and my heart went boom when I walked into that room." I smirked because, of course, she worked in Hamilton lyrics. She giggled and nodded, and without exchanging a single word, she knew I was asking her if she really just worked Hamilton into her vows "While the years passed, our friendship and love grew into something that neither one of us could explain. Something that both of us knew was something special," she let go of one of my hands, wiping away tears. "And as we loved others, no one ever compared to each other. You were my one and only. My penguin. My rock lobster," I laughed. "Now, as we stand here in front of our loved ones and each other, as we exchange vows and pledge our love to one another, if I could tell ten-year-old me that the boy who captured your heart has the key to it and will be your forever permanent best friend. And as we start this next chapter, I don't want to waste another minute. Te amo mi amor. Siempre y para siempre," she finishes as tears fell for everyone.

"Not bad for us just winging it," I whispered, making her giggle.

"Yeah," she replied.

"The rings, please," says Josh as Charlie and Demi both give him rings. "This ring represents the love between the two of you. No beginning and no end. Now Luis, put this ring on y/n's left hand," he hands me y/n's wedding band, "and repeat after me.."

"Y/N. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness." I slipped the black gold band onto her left hand, my smile stretching from ear to ear as her eyes focus solely on me.

Josh grins softly as he hands Y/N my ring. "Y/N, place this ring on Luis's left hand and repeat after me..."

"Luis. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness," she says as tears fell and her voice full of emotion as she slid the black gold ring onto my finger.

We smile as we turn to Josh, as he smiles, "What God has joined together let no man put asunder. By the power invested in me by the great state of Florida, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Luis, you may now kiss your wife." I smile, cupping y/n's face as I lean down, pressing my lips to y/n's. The kiss was sweet and soft. "It's my pleasure to present to you the new Mr. and Mrs. Luis and y/n Martínez Junior."

We turned to our guests. Our fingers laced together as we raised our hands as everyone stood and applauded as Matt began the Wedding March/Recessional by Mendelssohn. We headed back up the aisle as we walked into the house. I led y/n into my office, shutting the door. Sealing us off from the world for a few minutes.

"Hey Mrs. Martínez. We're married!" I exclaim, laughing, wrapping my arms around her waist as she lazily wraps her arms around my neck.

"Yes we are Mr. Martínez," she grins standing on tip toe pecking my lips "And I cannot wait to begin this next adventure with you."

"Neither can I amor," I smile as I pressed my lips against hers. Wrapping my arms tightly around y/n pulling her flush to my body. We share a deep and passionate kiss until.....

"LUIS! Y/N! WHERE DID YOU GO?" yells Demi.

I smirked against y/n's lips before breaking the kiss. "We better head back to our guests," I said as I rested my forehead against hers.

She nods softly, "Yeah. Because the faster we celebrate this, the faster we can get everyone to leave because I wanna show my husband my appreciation," she smirks as she caresses my cheek.

We leave the office and celebrate well into the night with our family and friends before they leave me alone with my wife. With one warning from Demi. 'Don't sleep in too long. Matt and I will be back for you to finish the story.'

But for tonight, it belongs to y/n and me, and all we had between us was air and time.

Tag List: @eringobragh420 @magicalbuttertarts @madhatterbri @keekee-23 @loki69zowens @caramara3 @bloodlinesbabe93 @miss-kuki-nz @surdelcielo

Remember please if you want to be tagged comment. This was just posted on Wattpad but with tomorrow being Royal Rumble and I have to watch on my good phone and I use it to transfer and write (the old one is only used for Tumblr lol) here is the latest in the Another Story Time series!!!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

You know I've been meaning to ask.. is everything okay? I mean your pfp is blank. I understand you're uploading, but I also want to make sure you're okay

idk if i have some mental connection with you, anon, because how else i can explain that you sent this ask right when i felt so bad??? but yeah i should really put a pfp, i just can’t choose the right pic and at same time im lazy….

honestly i promised myself i wouldn’t vent online and irl because i don’t wanna be annoying or be the kind of person people get tired of. but i guess i just feel emotional rn sorry again

well 2025 kinda kicked me in the face already LMAO, it already reminded me that some people will always pick someone else and some things are just not meant to be yours. i just got reminded once again that i’m super replaceable to person i really loved and cared about. so now im realising that i was just there to pass the time until they found smth better, someone better. and they did, they did and that’s just unfair for me, i literally loved this person for 10 years and that's how i ended up

not exactly the fresh start i was hoping for lol

been feeling like a ghost in my own life lately so i guess i made this blog to just be somewhere, to talk to people, to share things i love, to feel like i exist in some small way. to find friends? idk. sometimes i wonder if i’m just taking up space here, but deleting this blog feels dramatic so whatever. although i thought bout this a lot and still think about it, but i guess im just being... yeah, dramatic, i mean i am, ive been told. so, i don't know, deleting feels rude ? and i don’t wanna be rude, i hate being rude :( i still hesitate every time i post though. and i don’t want to be that person who craves reassurance but damn, it gets lonely and im embarrassed to even say that rn

+ last year drained me so much that i couldn’t even start anything for a whole month. its about my work, i just felt stuck, exhausted before i even tried. things are getting better now with my work, though. it’s actually tied to people and honestly, i love that?? i mean, i love people very much. in general. so whenever i meet someone kind or understanding in my work, it lifts my mood

but when it comes to writing or fics, i feel like i’m always fighting myself. actually i enjoy writing, ive been writing since… 14? 13? so i try, i push through, but nothing ever feels right lately. i don’t know if it’s just a phase or if this is how it’s always going to be. why i always feel like i could’ve done better or that maybe i shouldn’t have posted at all

anyways….. i don’t usually post stuff like this. i really don’t want to be like this, i hate sounding so negative, i really do. i promised myself i wouldn’t. i usually just keep things to myself, but you seemed like you genuinely cared, sweetheart and i figured i might as well be honest, i appreciate your worry! thank u sm angel! ♡

[zoswriting]

✦ happy birthday.

⤷ synopsis: an extremely late shoto birthday post, featuring your kid. (i sincerely apologise, i was meant to write this like last week, but BAM! exams. whoopsies. either way, take it or leave it. happy one month late birthday, shoto.)

⤷ a/n : for some unknown reason all the dividers i had in my photos literally just disappeared? i have no idea where they all went. I had so many cute ones, someone pls give me purple dividers i'm begging. anyways here, take a cute dad shoto on his birthday

⤷ warnings : fluff, f!reader, dad!shoto, husband! shoto, you have a daughter called rumi (but feel free to change the name in your head), absolutely not proofread—what are we expecting?, an unfortunate mention of endeavour, long as FUCK, i don't know what else to include ngl, bonus little smut piece at the end but you can skip over that if you want (it doesn't contribute to the plot)

january 11th. 26 years ago, one of the top Pro Heroes was born-who just so happens to also be your best friend, partner-in-crime, husband, and father of your gorgeous baby girl.

he's never been excited about his birthday (you can thank his father for that) but as the years go by, you're determined to change this—you know you can't alter the past and the memories that come with his prior birthdays, but the pen is in your hands now, and you can write your future. so, when he's out on his last-minute patrol of the city, you're decorating the house for his arrival. you went out the day prior under the pretence of "shopping for rumi", and instead went to go buy him a lot of gifts. he can never have too much, you think; he deserves it all. especially this year, marking the peak of his career and his first birthday with your daughter.

he comes home just moments after you finish setting everything up, and you can hear the house keys rattle in the door. you grin, quickly picking your daughter up—who you dressed up in his merch that looks like his hero costume—and checking your face in the mirror. the door opens as he's putting the keys back in his pocket. "my—Jesus Christ," his announcement of his arrival is cut short as he looks up and at all of the decorations you worked so hard to make absolutely perfect. he looks so in awe, exactly like a little kid who just stepped foot into his own birthday party—which this pretty much is. the house—mainly the living room—is decorated in hues of red and white and gold, the coffee table sporting gifts galore, plus a bouquet of red and white roses (that you arranged meticulously so that the white roses form a heart) with a small card embedded in the middle.

"surprise!" you quickly walk up to him, pressing a fat kiss to his cheek. your daughter reaches out for her dad with her baby hands, and he immediately takes her into his arms, studying her little outfit with the widest smile on his face. "happy birthday, baby."

"i don't—my love, why?" he's dumbfounded as he stares down at rumi whilst bringing her to his chest, who in response just grips at his hero costume in her tight, tiny little fists.

"what do you mean 'why'?" you tilt your head, still smiling at him fondly.

"because... god, love, i don't even like my birthday, and you've gone and done all this," he waves his free hand with a flourish, gesturing at all your decorations you so liberally put up.

"but birthday's are a thing to celebrate, shoto," you say as you dragged him over to the couch by his arm. "listen, i know you didn't have the best birthdays growing up. i mean, they were just treated as every other day, and that's why i want to change that. that's why i always try and go extra, just for you."

"i don't—" he starts, trying to say how he 'doesn't deserve it', but you cut him off.

"shush, you do deserve it, i don't wanna hear otherwise," you put your foot down on the matter, not leaving room for discussion over it. he leans back against the sofa cushions and taking a moment again to take in everything you did. for him. for his birthday. he subconsciously spins the band that sits perfectly on his left ring finger, like he's reminding himself that you're his, that you seriously did this. your daughter also looks around the room with her big, wide eyes, but they're more so on the gold of the wrapping paper.

you bring forward the bouquet from the table. "you always get me flowers, but i feel like i don't get you them enough. so, here you go. flowers," you push them towards him, but you then realise you're missing an important detail. "oh right, the child. swapsies?"

he chuckles at your request, nodding slightly. you set the bouquet down beside him on the couch, taking your daughter from his arms whilst he takes the bouquet. his eyes immediately fall onto the card concealed inside the gold envelope, and he plucks it out carefully. the envelope reads 'My dear husband’, on the front in neat handwriting, and he looks up at you.

"what? it's a card. you can't have a birthday without a card," you plop yourself next to him as he gently opens the card, and rumi's hands immediately go to the discarded envelope. “i pulled out my best handwriting for this.”

“my, your best handwriting? for me? i’m touched, my love. truly,” he laughs, pulling out the card inside. and he runs his finger over it before opening the card, reading its contents. you bounce rumi on your knee as he does—for some reason, you feel like a teenager watching her crush read the confession note she put in his locker, and the way he’s scanning over the words over and over again is honestly making you a little nervous. but he smiles after a moment of reading, and leans over to kiss the side of your head. “you’re cute,” he mumbles against your hair, going to put the card back in the envelope.

“shut up,” you mumble. “wait, don’t put the card back yet. look inside the envelope again,” you tell him, intently watching his face for his reaction when he looks inside.

he looks at you confused before placing the card down beside him (he ends up putting it on the coffee table once he sees your baby reach for it, however. he doesn’t want it to suffer the same fate as the now ripped and slightly chewed envelope, he wants to cherish the letters inside for a little while longer, at least) and looking in the envelope again. two polaroids sit inside, and he pulls them out. “what are these?”

“polaroids,” you say simply.

“i’m aware. i meant as in the phot—” he cuts himself off once he flips one of them around so he can properly look at the picture on it. it’s a picture of you and him at his fourth birthday, sitting side by side as he blows out the candles on his small little cake. you’re wearing a party hat and a toothy smile, and he’s smiling softly. it wasn’t the best day of his life, you both could say that much; the party was only thrown because it was the day he was to get his quirk, and his father—dressed in a reputation he so desperately wanted to build—had invited every parent in his kindergarten class, which included you. endeavour wanted to boast about his youngest son’s quirk to all the other parents, but you were one of the only kids there who actually wanted to be there, everyone else just wanted to go home. most did, actually.

he looks starstruck as he looks down at the polaroid, a little confused as to where you even attained this, even. he sighs softly, running his thumb over your face. “you were cute back then,” he comments, to which you raise an eyebrow teasingly.

“you saying i’m not cute now, shoto?”

“that’s not what i meant and you know it, sweetheart. you’re always cute, you were just cuter back then.”

“excuses,” you mutter playfully before turning the other polaroid around. it’s a picture of his mother in the hospital, carefully cradling a swaddled-shoto against her chest.

“okay, one question before anything else. where the hell did you get these?” he turns his head to look at you fully. you shrug.

“your sister.”

“checks out,” he grumbles before studying the photo again.

“apparently, according to her, this was taken by touya,” he freezes at the mention of his eldest brother. “apparently. i don’t know how true that is, i didn’t press, but see that smudge looking thing in the corner? that’s his thumb. probably. again, how would i know?”

he looks to the right corner and, sure enough, there is a blur of something there. he lets out a breath. “touya, of all people, touya took the first photo of me?” he mumbles, studying the picture once more before tucking both of them, and the card, back into the envelope. he places it, along with the flowers, back on the coffee table and then pulls you into his side, holding you and rumi close.

“thank you, love. really,” he mumbles against your head, pressing gentle kisses to it.

“happy birthday, shoto,” you whisper, and rumi babbles into the conversation, to which you both silently laugh at.

BONUS. (smut ahead) (wow first smut post)

⤷ everyone is over 18!!!!!!!!, f/afab!reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), shoto’s a cocky (haha get it) little shit, penetration, tits? is that a warning?, literally made up as i go, first time like properly writing smut pls bear with me i have no idea what the fuck i’m doing, say it with me: shoto’s a little shit, kinda rushed this part cause i really wanna sleep

at this point, the sun had set. the three of you went out to a restaurant (which you paid for, obviously) and ate to your hearts content—although your daughter just had milk, but the way she conked out during the drive back was more than enough evidence that she, too, was full—and then did the whole cake thing after putting rumi to sleep in her nursery. now, you find yourself laying in the middle of your bed with shoto attacking your neck and chest with kisses, plus the occasional nip here and there.

how did you get here, exactly?

“i don’t need thanking, shoto. i feel like a broken record saying that, just shut your mouth and accept this,” you huff as you tell him for what seems like the fiftieth time. your husband’s so set on ‘showing you his gratitude’, as he puts it, and as much as you try to refuse, you know shoto will get his way. he always does, no matter what you do. the minute you guys walked into your bedroom, his lips were crashing on yours as he walked you both backwards to the bed. his hand stayed planted on the back of your head, tilting it slightly to deepen the kiss before he was pushing you back onto the mattress and moving on top of you, straddling your legs to keep them down as he removed your top, revealing your bare torso under. he ran his hands over the newly-exposed skin gently, his calloused fingertips sending shivers through you.

and now this is where you are—under him as he moves down your body, practically worshiping every inch, committing all of it to memory.

“i think you should be shutting your mouth. you’ve done way more than enough for me today, it’s wrong not to thank the provider,” he hums against your skin, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both your leggings and panties. “may i?” he asks as he straightens up and looks you straight in the eye, his voice a little softer, yet still tinged with that lingering desire.

you swallow as you look up at him. he knows what he’s doing, you know that he knows what he’s doing. he has that slightly cocky look on his face, the one that says he’s so aware he already has slick looking in your panties just from a little bit of making out, and yet he has the audacity to ask you if he can take them off. the audacity to think you’re gonna say no—you’re already nodding, even though you know he’d do it anyway, and soon enough, the last bit of your clothing is joining the shirt your husband so elegantly discarded to the floor.

he spreads your legs just that little bit wider, running two fingers through your folds, your pussy already dripping for him. he smiles at the sight. “see? you do want me to show my appreciation, don’t deny it,” he teases, and you open your mouth to respond, but the words are queued behind a moan as those two fingers are thrust into you without warning, curling up immediately to rub against your g-spot. fuck him and his ability to navigate your body so damn well, you think, but god does it feel too good to even try and curse him out. but just as you go to moan for more, his fingers slip out of you, and you whine at the loss of friction.

he raises an eyebrow at your little noise, then shakes his head before pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress by your hips and sinking to his knees in front of you, between your legs. he slowly, slowly, kisses up the length of the inside of your thighs, and just when you think he’s actually going to put his mouth where you want—need—him to, he just pulls further back.

“shoto, i swear to god if you don’t put that mouth o—fuck,” he cuts you off quickly with a soft yet firm suck on your clit, making you mewl in response.

“what was that?” he pulls away, looking up at you from between to your thighs.

“nothing. never mind. i retract my statement.”

“that’s what i thought. let me enjoy my gift,” he says annoyingly calmly, as if he’s not torturing the life out of you. that paired with his smooth, low voice reaching your ears as he says that just serves to turn you on more. and then his tongue is running up your slit, the contact causing your hand to fly up and into his hair. he laughs against your core, the vibrations coursing through you like electricity as he laps at your juices.

it doesn’t take long for you to be writhing on the bed, and your back arches deeply when he returns his fingers inside you again, and it’s like he’s on a mission to make you come quickly. his fingers curl in that same, skilled way as his mouth makes quick work of your clit. shoto’s a tease, that’s well known, but what he also is right now is desperate. the moment he stepped through the front door that afternoon, his mind immediately thought of how well he’s going to fuck you.

the more logical side of his brain is telling him to get you to come first, but his dick says otherwise with the way it’s straining against his boxers, having made quick work of his trousers whilst kissing your body. he doesn’t listen to his brain this time; standing up, he pulls his boxers down and runs the head through your wetness before stroking it a couple times. his breathing is deep, laboured yet controlled—a stark contrast to your short, shallow breaths. his eyes are locked on your tits as you take those breaths, his free hand going to one of them to knead and tug at your hardened nipple. you mewl, the short and sweet sound turning into a loud moan as his cock sheathes itself inside of you fully, his hips meeting yours as he bottoms out in one deep stroke. he lets out a sharp breath, groaning at the feeling of your walls, warm and wet, clenching around him.

“fuck, i missed this,” he curses, his head tilting back slightly as he begins to move, pulling back to just the tip before slamming into you once again, the hand playing with your breast clamping over your mouth before you’re able to cry out again. “i hope you’re aware of the child in the other room.”

you just nod, it’s all you’re able to do now with his hand tight over your mouth, and you bite your tongue to keep from moaning. a small part of you wants to curse at him for reminding you of that fact right now, but the bigger part of you is already drunk on his cock as he drags it through your cunt in that pace that allows you to feel every inch, every ridge. but that’s just the start; it’s not long before he abandons all care and starts fucking you properly, the pace of his hips increasing with every muffled noise you make. he watches your hands gripping the sheets below you, but he doesn’t like that. instead he takes your hand in his and interlocks your fingers, keeping it pinned by your side. it acts as an anchor, as something for you to hold on to as he fucks you. periodically, he’ll squeeze it three times—your little way of saying ‘i love you’—but you barely notice it as your vision already starts to blur.

your back bows off the bed as you near your orgasm, your eyes squeezing shut and brimming with un-shed tears whilst stars dance behind your eyelids. he smiles again when he realises this, when he feels the way your pussy tightens around his length, and he can already tell that he definitely won’t be far behind once you do come. his hand leaves yours momentarily, just to press on your stomach to keep your body still against the mattress, but the feeling of his large hand splayed and applying pressure to the majority of your lower stomach is enough to get you to almost choke on a moan and come almost instantly around his cock without any further warning.

he lets out a guttural groan from deep within him when your walls close in on him intensely, still slamming into you with intense fervour a few more times before he leans down and presses his forehead against yours, mumbling out a spew of ‘i love you’s and ‘you’re so good for me, s’good, the best pussy, the best birthday present’ before removing his hands from your mouth just to shut you up again by pressing his lips against yours messily as he comes, filling you up.

you both sink—you into the mattress and him sinking on top of your body, his chest pressed against yours as he’s still kissing you sloppily. after a second of silence (that’s actually not silent and just filled with heavy breathing from both of you), he smiles against your mouth before pulling back just slightly to whisper to you. “tha—” you don’t let him get a word in, just tilting your head up to meet his lips with yours one more time, and then back.

“i said shut it. you already thanked me,” you mumble.

“i’m thanking you again.”

“no thanks, i’m okay.”

he rolls his eyes at your phrase. “mmkay, sure,” he sighs as he straightens up, pulling out of you. he watches intently as his cum drips out of your hole, and he has to fight the urge to push it back in with his fingers.

the rest of his birthday night is spent taking care of you; cleaning you both up with a much-needed shower, feeding you more cake, plus forcing him to go check on your daughter when her whines can be heard from the baby monitor. when met with the question ‘why can’t you?’, you respond with ‘you just fucked my soul out and tucked me back in, my legs are still shaking—yes, still, even if it’s been 50 minutes, that was probably one of the most intense orgasms i’ve had, never press on my stomach again.’ to which he’ll laugh at and surrender, going to check on your daughter.

[on-wine-dark-seas]

So what finally convinced you to selfship?

Whew, this might actually net me some disdain, resentment, etc, but...I'm gonna power through this because I have a lot of opinions, and I wanna make it clear why I'm taking on this challenge.

So full disclosure: I don't actually really like Reader fics. It's not that they're not well-written. On the contrary, a majority of them are brilliant, and most of my favorite fics in this fandom are Reader[ish] fic. Now, the reason I don't like this is not because of the second-person perspective. I'm a longtime gamemaster, writing and speaking in second-person doesn't bug me. I've read The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin. Second-person can be a rad storytelling element.

What bugs me is the obvious farce of Reader fic.

I know a lot of writers and artists try their best to keep descriptions of the Reader out of their narration, but it almost always manifests and becomes glaringly obvious that the Reader is their OC stripped of name and defining physical characteristics. Even in the art, it's very clear that Y/N is an OC or a generic, skinny, white, feminine body.

Now, here's the issue: I'm a dark skinned Black woman with curly/kinky hair, and I'm not skinny or perceived as delicate [despite my best efforts]. When I see descriptions about my fave supposedly combing their hands through my hair, or my lips being plush and pink, or my CHEEKS TURNING PINK WHEN I BLUSH, I immediately separate myself from the Reader and replace it with what is obviously the writer's OC or self-insert. And there's absolutely no shame in them doing that! I am the CEO of the OC x Canon agenda, and I will always push for people to be fearless in creating OCs.

And so much of the Reader fic is making it painfully obvious that that's what everyone wants to do, and because no one wants to risk losing readers/views/kudos/comments at best, or being labeled the dreaded Mary Sue at worst, we get inundated with a lot of fanfic and fanart that clearly have heavy OC overtones.

I never see myself as the Reader because the writers are never visualizing me when they're writing the Reader. It's not even about the choices Reader makes in a fic, it's the obvious coding of the Reader's appearance, if that makes sense? I'm sure other Black women in fandom can relate.

So, because of this, I can't feel truly immersed in the story as if I'm the protagonist because the Reader is not me.

Does this look like a fragile, delicate, wide-eyed ingenue waiting to be seduced by the big, bad wolf? No. I am a woman of many vibes: I fuck. I fight. I curse. I spit blood and I dance until the sun comes up. I can also be very soft and sweet and affectionate [just ask the polycule], but most importantly: I'm Black as fuck; not just in appearance, but culturally. I come from Nigerian and American parents. I have a very rich cultural background that shapes and influences everything about me. And none of that is ever reflected in the Reader fics I read, and even some of the ones supposedly featuring a Black reader are holding back in significant ways. Yes, even the ones I praise and laud endlessly. Again, it's not about the quality of the writing, it's about the principle at its core.

And how could I ever expect a writer to account for a person like me in their stories? Why would I ever expect them to? Reader fics ring false for me because there's too many unique people out there to settle for generic nondescript details about the literal protagonist. And I have the misfortune of being in a fandom where that is mostly all there is to read. As a result, I have to do some extra mental gymnastics to enjoy reading fic. I would rather be reading about other people's OCs, if we're being honest.

I got tired of reading fic where I still felt like an interloper or outsider in a story that is supposedly about ME. And I decided to take the plunge and write a story that actually features me as the protagonist and love interest. Not the Reader. The Writer. I'm definitely not the first, and I hope I'm not the last. I feel like this is the natural progression for someone who exclusively writes OC x Canon.

On the other side of this, I understand why Reader fic has become so popular in the fandom. It's an easy way for people to get eyes on their work because now the readers feel like they can be invested in the story because the protagonist is them. And for some people, that's enough. But for those of us who are already ostracized, ignored, and even abused in fandom, and treated as Other, this is not always the case. It's not as easy as slipping into a new coat cut exactly to my size, and more like I'm in the writer's closet trying on their clothes and realizing that we're nowhere near the same size for me to be in there at all.

I hope the people who actually rock with me and my writing enjoy The Invitation when I finally release it. It's turning out to be a point of pride for me, and most importantly: the story is about me.

[shawtylex09]

Foaming at the mouth, on my knees, sobbing, barking- I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE IZUKU!!! He is such a stupid nerd I love him<3

Anyway!! Feel free to not answer if you don't wanna, that's ok! But how do you think Izu would act with a reader that loves to bite or mark him?? He just makes me feral he's so cute and I need to have my mouth on him<33

KANAKSBJA I love you anon, giving me motivation- STAWWWP anyways here’s a cute lil thingy for you;

You and Izuku had been dating for about 6ish months, the two of you had gotten quite comfortable with each other, and gotten used to each others habits and quirks.

However, there was one thing Izuku couldn’t ever really get over.

Your biting.

It wasn’t ever super hard, but sometimes, you just had to stim, and that would result in biting on Izukus hand, or his neck, or his arms, or shoulders- really anywhere.

It wasn’t that he had a problem with it, it was more so, he just simply didn’t understand.

The two of you were laying in his bed, a quiet Saturday afternoon, escaping from the dog days of July.

You were sitting between his thighs on his bed, leaning back against his chest while the two of you scrolled randomly on your phone.

You felt that familiar energy start to pool in your calves and in your finger tips, making you bounce your leg and pick at your cuticles.

Your jaw clenched and you clicked your teeth together, before Izuku rested his chin on your shoulder. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?” He asked softly, his voice gentle and quiet in your ear.

You hummed and gritted your teeth together, feeling the need to chew on something, however, you’d forgotten to grab your gum, and didn’t have any suckers with you.

“Yeah I’m alright, jus’ stimming love” you muttered with a clenched jaw.

Izuku knew faintly about your stimming. He hadn’t actually been aware that he himself stimmed before you caught him chewing on his lips and twirling pencils between his fingers or snapping his fingers.

He hummed before he tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling softly “you wanna chew?” He asked, offering his palm to you.

You glanced at him, and swooned. “Are you sure Zuku? I know sometimes my teeth leave marks” you muttered, a bit unsure. In reality, you loved seeing your bite marks or hickeys on Izuku’s skin- it wasnt even a sexual thing, it was just..nice.

Izuku nodded and smiled, clicking off your phone and placing it on the night stand “yeah, I’m sure baby”

You smiled at him and turned sligjtly to kiss his cheek “I love you, you know that?”

Izuku turned bright red and smiled, pecking your lips “I love you too”

He didn’t protest as you grabbed his hand, bringing the meat of his thumb to your mouth and lightly biting on it. Your jaw finally stopped buzzing as badly, and you let out a sigh of relief through your nose.

Izuku smiled and gently carded his fingers through your hair as you left a few teeth marks on his hand, eventually turning around to sit on his lap and leave bites on his shoulders and neck.

A soft, sigh left him as he angled his head to the side, feeling your teeth pressing into his neck. It hurt a little, but after training and breaking his bones over and over again, his pain tolerance really improved.

Izuku gently rubbed your back smiling softly as he felt you trail like kisses across the bites on his swollen skin. He knew you didn’t want to hurt him, and it was all out of affection, and he accept your little habit with open arms.

After all, how often was it that guys found girlfriends who liked to stake their claim on them?

So I’m short; Izuku loves when you’re stimming and need a source of relief, he’ll gladly offer his hands or neck to you, allowing you to bite or pick at his skin.

He loves you either way, and your stims didn’t deter him at all 💚

Also I literally LOVE when y’all give me motivation. Give me more askes grrr

[shxtodxroki]

Anime + Otome Game "Love In Paradise" Character Selection Form!

Form Here

Hi everyone! I've decided that I'm ready to take on a big series for the first time on this blog, and I want to do a series that's a bit of a mix of Bachelor in Paradise and Love Island, with some of my own twists! (Far warning, I have never actually seen either of these shows lol so this is based on the knowledge I currently have of both series) The tentative title I was thinking of is "Love in Paradise" (though I'm not fully set on the name yet, so feel free to send/comment suggestions if you have a better idea!) and I wanted to ask you guys which characters from which series you wanna see and have a chance to romance on the beach in this series, so if you could take the time to fill out this form for any of the series that you're familiar with, I would appreciate it!

The reader in this series will be written as gender-neutral, and while there were more male characters to write for in these series and men tend to be more popular fic focuses in general, the reader will have options of various genders that they can choose to couple with so there is a list of non-male options to choose between as well! (And as someone who played the Love Island game a long while ago and hated how they only ever gave you one woman option, there will be MANY different non-male choices the reader can couple with throughout the series alongside all the male characters you can choose!) Also a warning that there will be no smut in this series as it's just not something I'm good at writing, and suggestive scenes if included will be kept only to characters who are adults in their canon universes (though all characters will be written to be at least 21 in this series, regardless of canon).

I'll probably leave this form up for a few days to allow a decent amount of results to roll in, and then I'll begin writing once I have an appropriate number of responses and know which characters will be introduced first! This series will be based on audience choices and will contain a poll for pretty much every part to decide what the MC does, and if certain characters are popular enough but don't end up being the final choice, I may write alternative routes for them as well! So get your votes in and get ready for the first chapter, hopefully releasing soon! :D

[xylatox]

Criminal Conscience by the lovely Serene!! The synopsis was so intriguing I am so excited to see where this goes. Unfortunate I never got to read it before it was revamped but I'm glad I get to read it now :)

Instantly in love, like the line; It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. The repetition at the beginning and end of this relating to the cold, what the fuck I eat that up so bad. Something about how you introduced Beomgyu here is so insanely attractive and idk how else to phrase it into words. Maybe it's the fact that he's a criminal (mama I'm in love with a criminal) but I absolutely want to sink my teeth into Gyu, no joke.

Omg, it's present day, did not expect the lovely Yeonjun to appear and I also have a carnal desire to sink my teeth into him. I already love the relationship between them, like despite YJ being her senior she's comfortable with him and it shows, from the banter when she finally reaches the room to him reassuring her that he's on the other side of the glass is so fucking cute.

Also I think the foreshadowing is so good, like the lipstick in the engravings, her still putting it on despite the meaning behind it and then low and behold Gyu being in the interrogation room, Serene you have done it again. I love that YJ is responsible to immediately try to take her off the case because that is the policy but him caving just this once for reader is sweet (in a very yay mystery crime way).

Again, I'm going to say this for all the tapes, but criminal!Beomgyu has me on such a fucking chokehold it is actually insane. He's so hot in ways that I don't even wanna go into like it's not okay😭. Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” — Like what if I fuck him on the investigation table then what LOL.

The flashback to when they met, I'm like reader and intrigued by Beomgyu so bad, it is probably my (somewhat) bad judgement of character but he's so AHHH yknow, he has the aura. Like even Kayla's words have no effect on me rn. There's something so exhilarating about the moment between reader and Gyu at the end, I feel like I relate to reader on so many levels, like there's just something about Beomgyu that has you addicted yknow. And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu. — the ending line to tape one, again amazing, fuck, Serene always eats.

The end of Tape 1! I love that it goes between the past and present and I will always love Serene's writing. Like I'm so downbad for Beomgyu here it's actually a bit concerning but I'm so excited to see where it goes. I always love and live for a good crime plot so I'm so so excited to see what's next! (I will probably yap about how bad I wanna fuck Beomgyu for every tape release).

𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 TAPE 01

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder. ⸝⸝

𝓹airings criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader 𝔀arnings blood, character death, descriptions of violence/slight gore, implied sexual encounters, womanizer!beomgyu, making out, penetrative sex, public sex, alcohol consumption.

📼 THE TAPE RECORDINGS

𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓢𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 contains dark themes portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships and substance abuse. reader discretion is advised ! — this story is partly told in flashbacks, beware of timestamps as past/present are mixed throughout the story.

#serene adds ✎.. heh, realised after I hit post that I forgot to add a little note for myself on here. hmm... criminal conscience yes, I missed this series, a lot :3 super happy for it to be back, and better than ever !

[ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။| TAPE 01 ] — Stay Away From Choi Beomgyu — recording length; 5.9k

📼 —  April 5th 2023

It was cold. Your cheeks were wet, and whether that was from the rain pouring down on you, or the endless tears streaming down your face you didn’t know. But it was cold. It was dark too, awfully so. Yet you could clearly make out the image of him, his hunched over figure, his bloody hands moving without even the slightest tremble as they clenched and unclenched into fists. For a moment it looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch you. 

The way you flinched, taking a quick step backward made him frown. “Dollface..” He tries, his voice uncharacteristically soft, the tension on his face easing up, if just for a moment. But you won’t hear it. Fuck, you could take the drugs, the lying and the cheating…Suppose you never were together in the end, not officially at least. — And you could take it. All of it. 

This was different. This was… You glance between the blood on his shirt, down to his bruised knuckles. You knew what he’d done. Something truly unforgiving, something evil, inhumane. Beomgyu was a terrible person. For months you’d let yourself be blindsighted, too caught up on trying to fit him into the life you’d imagined, into a life that would never be his. Because that was not who he was. 

You thought things would be different with you. That you somehow stood out from the rest, that maybe… Maybe he wasn’t as bad as people made him out to be. But you should’ve known. You should’ve known to stay away from Choi Beomgyu. 

“You’re a monster.” 

It happens before you can even stop it, the way the words fall from your quivering lips. Your voice is strained with the effort of keeping down another sob, and your breath comes out shaky with each exhale. — He doesn’t look surprised, in fact his expression remains perfectly unreadable, just like it always did. That hurts the most you think. 

He takes a step forward, his shoes making a wet noise against the muddy ground. The rain makes his clothes cling to his body, his dark hair matted against his face, shielding his dark eyes from view until he pushes the strands back. — “C’mon dollface, we can work this out.” The once sweet nickname now made you feel sick. Butterflies no longer surged within your stomach, though, you’re not so sure that they ever had. 

You shake your head, adamant in your decision as you swallow. “Stay away from me.” Even though your voice is close to cracking it seems to break his trance, and Beomgyu looks confused for the first time. It would’ve been an almost satisfactory sight, had it not been for your current situation. But one quick glance toward the blood smeared all over him makes you want to vomit. 

“I never want to see you again.” 

And you hoped you never would. With all of your heart and being you wished to never see Choi Beomgyu ever again. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 19th 2024

“Hello?” 

Your words are followed by a thick silence and after almost twenty seconds you sigh. “Are you calling from downstairs again? You know the connection there is terrible.” Another minute passes, and you listen to the bruising noise of nothing for what feels like forever until Yeonjun’s voice finally breaks through on the device. 

“Hello? Oh, there you are!” He sounds almost surprised over the fact that the line seemed to actually be working. “Yes, yes I know I shouldn’t be calling from down here, but the elevator’s broken..” — He clears his throat before rapidly continuing. “Alright, I’ve got someone for you, can you make it down to room 31 in ten?” 

The groan passing your lips rings out into your office, bouncing off the walls and surely picking up on the phone despite the shitty connection. “Do you know what time it is? I’ve just barely made it here..” You grumble, yet you’re already rising from your chair, eager to be assigned a case from your senior. 

Yeonjun hums and you hear the clicking sound of what you assumed to be a pen. “We’ve kept him detained all night, best to get going quickly so we can move him over this afternoon.” He sounds absentminded when he speaks, as if his attention was elsewhere, likely reading off of the file in his hands. Still, you frown at his words. 

“Move him? To where, custody? How do you know we’ll have to do that?” Yeonjun doesn’t answer right away, which was unusual for him, and you pause with your hand on the door handle. — “I think it’s best you just come down here”, he then says, the finalisation in his tone evident. You bite the inside of your cheek, your mind suddenly swimming with questions you longed to ask. But you shrug them off, twisting the handle as you step outside. 

“Alright, I’ll be there.” 

The walk to the basement where the interrogations took place was an even longer one today. With no elevator you’re forced to stumble down four sets of stairs, silently vowing to yourself never to wear heels to work ever again. 

Fishing through your pockets, you grab onto the first thing you come across. A small tube of red lipstick, the engravings on its container made your heart skip a beat as you recognized its origin. Oh. You thought you’d gotten rid of that.. But the small cosmetic seemed to have made it during your move not long ago. How odd. 

The sound of your heels come to an abrupt halt as you stop to apply the red tint to your lips, using the camera on your far too old phone as a mirror. Despite its long history, the color remained just as bold as it had been when it was brand new. For some reason the revelation made your chest contract. — Screw it, you thought as you pushed the container back into the depths of your pocket. You would make sure to get rid of it on your way home. The past should remain the past, and for good reasons too. 

Interrogation room 31 is by the very end of the hall. The lights here had yet to be switched out and some of them flickered in a most uncanny way, setting the scene for something akin to a horror movie. However your worries come to ease when you spot your senior outside the door. Leaning against the wall, Yeonjun pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as his eyes remain glued to the files in front of him. 

“Took you long enough”, he huffs without taking his eyes off the clipboard. You raise a threatening fist his way but lower it again with a small grin, “whatever.” Yeonjun cocks an eyebrow your way but doesn’t make an attempt to comment as he instead sighs. — “23 year old male, brought in yesterday around 1am..” He begins, his expression quickly schooling into a more professional one, and you’re instantly reminded of how he used to be when you trained under him. 

He flips the paper, eyes dropping as he scans the written documents. “He’s in for first degree murder and attempted arson.” Shit, that’s serious. — “Are there any witnesses?” You ask, interrupting him when your curiosity gets the better of you. Though it would likely be far too soon to determine that. Yeonjun shakes his head, “None have come forward, besides it’s still too early to say.” You nod, heat rising on your cheeks at the small misstep. 

“Then, how is he linked to the crime?” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap toward you upon hearing your words, his jaw twitching ever so slightly. “Victim’s DNA on him”, he says as he hands you the file belonging to the victim. Your gaze immediately falls on the number of pictures already gathered from the scene. From the blood covered floorboards to the discarded knife, the bloody bathtub and the victim himself. 

“Park Baekhyun”, Yeonjun says as he points to the picture snapped of a man in his mid thirties. He was bruised from head to toe, his limp body awkwardly laid in the full tub. “34, male, cause of death was asphyxiation due to his head being held underwater for an extended period of time.” 

Once he’s reached the end of his small debrief, your jaw hangs slack. Whoever did this had no intentions of sparing the poor man. And judging by the way the scene looked, they didn’t seem to ever have.

“Will you be alright with this one?” Your senior’s question pulls your attention from the files in your hand, and you quickly nod. “Of course!” This was your first big case, and there was no way you would back down now, not when an opportunity had presented itself like this. 

Yeonjun leans over to unlock the door, his hand on the handle when he turns to you. “Remember I’m always-” — “On the other side of the glass, I know.” You finish with a small smile, and Yeonjun scoffs as he shakes his head. 

Interrogation rooms are small, their walls stripped bare and sterile. With no windows and not even a clock to tell the time, the space feels nearly suffocating. A metal table is placed by the center of the room, adorned with scratches and uneven sections from its years of mistreatment. Above it hangs a single fluorescent light, casting the room in an almost clinical glow. 

The man before you sits on one of the uncomfortable chairs, his head bowed and his cuffed hands resting on the table. His long dark hair shields his face from view, and you find your own gaze dropping to the files in your hands once more as you slide into the seat opposite him. 

You clear your throat, the quietness of the room only amplifying the sound of you swallowing again. “You’re being investigated on the grounds of first degree murder of Park Baekhyun and attempted arson against his property. You have the right to remain silent and or request for an attorney. Keep in mind that anything you say here can be used against you in court.” 

Exhale. 

With a quick glance toward the thick glass window to your left, you allow yourself a momentary break. No matter how hard you squint, it was impossible to make out anything on the other side. But you knew that Yeonjun was watching, and it made everything ten times more surreal. — When you notice that the suspect has yet to speak, you turn your attention back to him. 

He remains in front of you, with his head bowed as his fingers absentmindedly tap against the cool metal table. Your breath catches in your throat when you survey the dark rings adorning almost each and every one of his fingers, they looked oddly familiar. But before you have time to ponder the matter further, he lifts his gaze. 

His dark hair falls from his face, making his equally dark eyes meet yours, instantly they seize you with a look you knew all too well. The persistent tapping of his fingers come to an abrupt halt as his lips curl into a menacing smirk, the one that used to make your stomach twist. In that moment, you knew that he knew. Still, you deny it, hands fervently flipping the files as you replace the victim’s with his. 

Your heart plummets through the floor when your eyes land on the name, and suddenly it all makes sense. He was bound to end up in this room one day, you knew that, you had known that for a long time. You just… Had never imagined to be the one on the other side. 

His smirk only widens, exposing the sharp and shiny teeth that had grazed your skin so many times before. A breathy laugh rumbles within his chest, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, not once. He exhales with a short breath: 

“Dollface. It’s been a while hasn’t it?” 

The pet name makes an ice cold shiver crawl up your spine. You push down the insults waiting on your tongue, the months of resentment and the anger. Inhaling slowly, you remain perfectly still. He studies you close, dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to the side. It was as if he was trying to calculate your next move, you knew that he could. 

“Beomgyu.” The name tastes foul in your mouth, making you want to spit it out. You thought you’d left him behind, left him for good. For ten months you had tried to recover from him, from everything he’d put you through. All of it for nothing. Now he was closer than ever, within an arm's reach, if you so wished to touch him. 

His smirk only widened, he was enjoying this, you could tell it thrilled him. “In the flesh”, he says, his voice a low drawl as he drinks in your slightly bewildered expression. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, so many things you wished to get off your chest. But before you can even get a word out, the door to the interrogation room is slammed open. 

You don’t have to look to know who it is. Yeonjun’s presence could be felt from miles away as he looms over you. “A word outside”, is all he says, before promptly turning on his heel and walking out again. — You don’t take your eyes off of Beomgyu when you rise to your feet, and the smirk on his face persists even when you exit the room. 

“Alright, what’s going on?”

Your senior’s voice echoes down the vacant hallway and you wince at the accusation of his tone. How did you tell him, how did you come clean about the fact that you had history with the man currently detained and cuffed on the other side of the door. — Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hesitantly chew on it as your eyes dart between the floor and the walls, anywhere but him. 

“Well I… Sort of knew him..” The words come out awkward, and you grimace at the way you presented the situation. Yeonjun’s frown only deepens, the crease on his forehead becoming even more prominent. “Knew?” He presses, and you suddenly feel as if you were the one being interrogated. This was not how your first case was supposed to go. 

“Well.. I haven’t seen him in a long time.” You press your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself into a more upright stance as you try your best at holding his gaze. — “How long?” Yeonjun counters, to which your heart sinks. How long has it been? You hardly kept track, for Choi Beomgyu was someone you longed to forget. “Ten months”, you finally say. 

Your senior sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as he bites the inside of his cheek. He remains quiet for a good minute and you anxiously fiddle with the hem of your sleeves, glancing over your shoulder to make sure that no one was witnessing the most embarrassing conversation taking place. 

“I’ll take you off the case.” 

No. He can’t do that, can he? Well he technically could. Still, it was an option you refused to consider. “No.” You promptly say, rolling your shoulders back once as you prepare to face his rejection. You didn’t know why your first thought was to refuse, why a pang shot through your chest at the idea of having the case go to someone else, but it did. 

Selfish as you were, you thought you needed this case for your own gain. Whether it was to find some sort of closure for the way things ended, or perhaps even to satisfy your own curiosity. Either way, you knew that this case belonged to you. — “I’m confident that I can do this.” Your voice doesn’t waver, and your gaze is firm as you peer up at Yeonjun. 

Your senior sighs, carding his fingers through his hair as he mutters something under his breath. “It’s against policy and I shouldn’t-” — “Please, Yeonjun.” You take a step forward, hopeful eyes silently pleading with him. 

“I could be of great help, I’m certain of it, please just give me a chance.” — Yeonjun doesn’t look convinced, his dark brows furrowed as he glances between you and the shut door. Patiently you wait as he thinks to himself, your heart thrumming in your ears as you refuse the urge to beg him further. 

Finally, he huffs, shaking his head once, as if in disbelief of himself. “Alright, but if I notice that things are getting out of hand you’re off, are we clear?” 

Eagerly you nod, “Of course. Thank you, sir!” You catch the way he rolls his eyes, coughing slightly as he dismisses you with the wave of his hands. “Don’t act formal with me now”, he tsks, shooting you a small sideway glance. He reaches for the handle once more, holding the door open for you as you enter the suffocating interrogation room a second time that day. 

The silence is deafening as you step back inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you echoing off the four confined walls. Beomgyu remains seated, mindlessly fiddling with the rings on his fingers, the cuffs around his wrists scraping against the metal table. — You force yourself to remain stoic as you approach once more, carefully taking your seat opposite him as you place your files down in front of you. 

You clear your throat, ready to begin the initial interview when he suddenly speaks. “You look different.” He presents the statement causally as he leans back in his chair, it makes a squeaking noise at the action. Your heart pounds against your ribcage and you swallow as you hold his gaze. — “People change”, you say, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Beomgyu shakes his head, his dark and piercing gaze trailing along your figure. “But you act the same.” His lips stretch into a menacing smirk and you have to force the memories of those very lips against your own and all over your body, out of your head. Focus. You couldn’t afford to be taken off the case. 

“Last night”, you start off strong, your voice firm as you finally divert your attention from the files you’d been clinging onto, “You were present at Park Baekhyun’s property around 1am. What were you doing there?” 

The smirk has yet to fall from his face and Beomgyu cocks an eyebrow your way as he lets go of the rings he’d been fiddling with. “Cleanin’ up a mess”, the nonchalant tone he used masks any hint of unease he might be experiencing. 

“What kind of mess?” 

A glimmer of mischief flashes across his almost black eyes, it was one you recognized. His tongue prods against the inside of his cheeks, his hands flat against the metal table. “Well certainly not the ones we used to make.” The mockery made your skin crawl and you fought back the insults surfacing as you clenched your jaw. 

“Please refrain from straying off topic”, you say, your voice eerily calm. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but doesn’t attempt to argue as he regards you with a bored expression. “One of my employee’s messed up”, he shrugs, “Fairly new to the job so I can’t really hold him accountable.” — You watch as his eyes flicker over to the window on his right, his gaze narrowing on the thick glass. 

“You gotta go easy on the newbies”, he then adds without tearing his attention from the window. And even though he couldn’t see Yeonjun, he without a doubt knew that he was there. For a moment, it felt almost as if he was addressing your senior and not you. 

Beomgyu’s gaze soon flickers back to you, the smirk on his lips returning within seconds. “But you would know all about that wouldn’t you?” His eyes flash with underlying desire, “I went easy on you the first time.” 

He didn’t. Perhaps that was why you remembered your first encounter with Choi Beomgyu to this day. 

⸝⸝ 

📼 — March 28th 2022 

The floor thumps in rhythm to the loud bass that echoes from the DJ booth. Sweaty bodies are pressed against one another as people tear their way through the dancefloor. The fluorescent lights blind you as they flash from purple to blue to green and back to purple again. — Perched awkwardly on a high stool by the bar, you watch as the night unravels before you. 

Clubs had never been your forte. Especially not during the weekends where they seemed to host a home for the whole city as everyone drank their day to day problems away. Your eyes scan for Kayla, she was the one who’d brought you here in the first place. After listening to her persistent whining for almost an hour you had finally caved, but at what cost? 

As soon as your coats had been left, she’d darted for the dancefloor, not as much as a second thought about you as she searched for her next victim. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore, it was in her nature honestly. 

You’ve already emptied two glasses, and now you’re tapping the cool rim against your lips as you aimlessly peer out over the crowd. The idea of another drink enticed you, but your wallet strongly disagreed with that idea, thus you were left far too sober for your own liking as you avoided any attempts at socialising. You weren’t here to make friends, much less fuck around. 

It was then, in the midst of a heavy sigh, that your eyes fell on him. Back then you hadn’t known his name, you hadn’t known anything of what was to come. Your first thought was that he wasn’t your type. And you wanted to leave it at that, to let your eyes continue their endless roam and forget about him, but you couldn’t. 

Your gaze clung to him as it trailed along his dark and long hair, perfectly framing his sharp features. Then to the half-hearted smirk he wore, to his dark clothes and the black rings around almost each and every one of his fingers. And then finally to his eyes, darker and all the more menacing than the rest of him, they seemed to glow under the neon lights. 

For some reason, he was looking at you too. Despite the two half-naked girls draped over him, their hands insistently clawing at every part of him they could access, undoubtedly whispering beyond filthy shit in his ears with sickeningly sweet giggles. — Why was he looking at you?

He wasn't alone, far from it. The small booth he occupied held, not only him and the two girls, but at least three other guys as well, all wearing the same brooding expressions. You should look away, pretend like you’d never seen him in the first place, but the longer you stared at him, and the longer he stared back, it became increasingly more difficult. 

His smirk widens when he brings his glass to his lips, and over the rim you catch the sly wink he sends you. Your heart stumbles over its next beat, your own glass stuttering against your chin as you grip it tighter. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to getting hit on, or even subtly flirted with. But there was something undeniably different about this man. Despite your earlier complaints on your sobriety, you suddenly felt intoxicated in a way you never had before. 

And so you did the only reasonable thing left to do. You winked back. 

He chuckles, even though you’re unable to hear it, you can see it in the way his chest rises and falls. His ring clad hand slides along the thigh of one of the girls, who giggled as she leaned in to kiss his neck. He seemed to pay her little mind, those same dark eyes still fixed on you.. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Kayla’s voice is sharp, and it snaps your attention from the stranger and over to your friend as she takes the seat next to yours. Slouched over the bar, she orders herself a glass of water which she begins gulping down. — “What?” You question as you watch her wipe her lips. 

“That guy, the one you were eyeing”, she points in the direction of the man you’d just been gawking at, “He’s no good.” She gives a firm nod, glass gripped tightly in her hand as she peers down at the liquid floating around. — “How’d you know?” You scoff as you, too, turn back to the bar. Perhaps she was jealous of you succeeding in finding someone when she wasn’t, it wouldn’t be a first. 

But Kayla only huffs, her nails tapping against the glass as she purses her lips. “Only uses women for his own personal gain and pleasure, you’ll get hurt.” 

“What if I only seek pleasure?” That was a lie, because you didn’t, far from it. You were nothing like Kayla, at least you liked to think you weren’t. —- “Then I suggest you seek it elsewhere, I meant what I said, he’s bad news.” 

“How do you know that?”

Her knowledge about this stranger intrigued you. Had she hooked up with him before and got jealous by the possibility of you doing the same? Had he rejected her? 

Kayla sighs, her expression taking on an almost melancholic form as she sets her glass down. “Do you remember Shay?” She suddenly asks and you frown, confused by the mention of her old friend. “Yeah? You haven’t mentioned her in a while, did something happen?” 

Your friend snorts, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she nods toward the man by the booth. “Yeah, he did. – One night she’s off with him, next time I see her is two weeks later, drugged out of her fucking mind and unable to stand on her own goddamn legs.” A visible shiver runs down Kayla's spine as she recalls the events in her head. 

Turning back to the counter, she picks up her glass, “Besides, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.” With that, she downs the remaining water before pushing the now empty glass away. — “Better to try your luck on the dancefloor, hm?” She suggests as she attempts to pull you along. 

“I’m fine here.” You give her a small smile, watching as she nods before turning to disappear through the thick crowd. 

As much as you tried to keep your gaze from wandering, it somehow ended up by that godforsaken booth yet again. Except this time, the man seemed far too busy to spare your hopeless stares as much as a second glance. One of the girls had crawled onto his lap, shielding most of his face from view as she pressed her lips to his. 

His fingers squeezed around her hips before his hands traveled down the curve of her ass, barely covered by the ridiculously short skirt she wore. — They only broke apart for him to mutter something to one of the others present, their following laughter almost overpowering the loud music. 

With a small grimace you finally tear your gaze from the sight, slumping back against the bar with a tired sigh. This night seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps you could call a cab home, Kayla would probably want to stay at least another two hours, something that you weren’t quite feeling. 

You brace your hands on the countertop with the intention of heaving yourself from your chair and search for your friend when the bartender suddenly catches your attention. Wordlessly he places a drink in front of you, making your head jerk up as you give him a confused look. “I didn’t order–” 

“Booth 12”, he nodded to somewhere behind you but you hardly needed to turn around to know where this drink had come from. With your heart in your throat, you take the cool glass, eyeing the pinkish hue of the contents that swirled around the ice cubes. Why had he bought you this? Hesitantly you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip as you let the liquid slip down your throat. 

It tasted sweet, and you quickly found yourself going back for more. But hadn’t he been busy just a few moments ago.. Perhaps you’d read him wrong. — Suppose you could finish this drink and then head home. But you can barely get as much as another sip in before the seat next to yours becomes occupied. 

Through the corner of your eye you can easily make out his long dark hair, the faint smirk on his lips as he clasps his hands on the counter in front of him. For a moment, there’s an awkward silence hanging over the two of you. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes ahead, part of you wondered if he’d even come here with the intention of talking to you at all. 

You take another sip of your drink, desperate for the liquor to take effect. The man shifts in his seat, and you feel as though you were on fire when his head turns in your direction. Even with no words he managed to make your heart beat in a frenzy as you clutched your glass tightly. 

His dark and piercing gaze is unforgiving as it roams your figure, undoubtedly lingering where it shouldn’t. It was like he knew no shame. You should’ve told him off, you should’ve gotten up and left. For some reason you find yourself staring at him with equally invading eyes. 

“I haven’t seen you here before.” 

It’s the first time he speaks, his head falling to the side as he studies you. “You new around town?” His voice is smooth, clean of any stuttering or awkwardness. A small part of you envied how easily he seemed to be carrying himself. — You shake your head, “No.” 

The man raises an eyebrow, and you don’t stop him when he reaches for your drink. The rings around his fingers make a clanking sound against the glass as he takes it and brings it to his lips. “Then what? Not your crowd?” He asks before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving you. 

“No, I suppose not..” You gingerly admit, not wanting to highlight the fact that you were completely out of your element. But judging by the way he looked at you, his silent demeanor practically eating you alive, he probably knew that already. — He places your glass back down, gently pushing it back your way as he wordlessly encourages you to drink more. You don’t know why you oblige. 

He takes the opportunity of you sipping on your drink to introduce himself. “Choi Beomgyu”, he says, the smirk on his lips widening as he does. The name fit him, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a bad idea to give out your own name. He was a stranger, not to mention one that Kayla had specifically warned you about not long ago. Still, this man intrigued you beyond limits.. 

Beomgyu, as his name was, suddenly leaned closer and you could almost smell the liquor on his breath. “Come on dollface, you must have a name?” The nickname he so casually dropped made your stomach flip. — You tell yourself that this was just a game of his. Taking Kayla’s words into consideration, not to mention the fact that he had girls draped over him minutes ago, this wasn’t the first time he chatted someone up. You would not make a fool of yourself and fall for such cheap tricks. 

He’s silent as he waits for you to answer, but when you merely avoid his gaze and sip on your drink, he chuckles. The laugh is pulled from deep within his chest and it sounds raspy when it rolls off his tongue. Beomgyu leans back, running a hand leisurely through his long hair. “Hard to charm I see.” 

You don’t answer, but you can’t help but watch as he rests his elbows against the bartop, his finger dragging just below his bottom lip as he regards you with intrigue. — “Not your type?” You retort, your response coming out somewhat short. It was hard to fathom any reasoning behind his strange interest in you. 

“Far from it”, Beomgyu hums, though his glimmering eyes betray the words coming out of his mouth. The lower half of his face pulls into a lopsided grin, “But I’m not opposed to trying new things.” 

Your first instinct was to scoff, to tell him to fuck off back to wherever he’d emerged from. It’s strange. You find yourself completely unable to. Instead you push your nearly finished drink toward him once more, and Beomgyu takes it as he brings it to his lips. — If he wasn’t opposed to trying new things, then who says you weren’t either?” 

“Tell me your name.” 

His breath is hot on your neck, coming in short pants as he slams his hips against yours. The alleway is dark and vacant, shielding the two of you from prying eyes. Shoved against the brick wall, you’re pliant in his grasp as Beomgyu’s hands roam your body. With your skirt pushed high above your hips, the metal of his rings feel cool against your thighs as his fingers dig into your soft flesh. 

Was this a good idea? — It didn’t matter. Your nails rake along his shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. Beomgyu chuckles against the crock of your neck, his lips leaving sloppy kisses over your skin, pulling it between his teeth. 

This was so unlike anything you’d ever done before. Not that you were a prude, or anything of the sort. But something like this, in a place like this, where anyone could walk by and with a mere stranger no less.. Whatever. You figured he was just another promiscuous man with no other intentions than the last. You would use it to your advantage tonight, or at least so you thought. 

But for every kiss he placed against your body, for every quiet whisper of praise that slipped from his tongue, you found yourself slowly losing your last semblance of control. Beomgyu was not like any of your previous partners, he was new, exciting, exotic even. Something you’d never had before, and now that you’d gotten a small taste, you felt far from satisfied. 

Why did he want to know your name? Why did it matter if you were to never see one another after tonight? Still, his silent request is made clear when he presses your lips together in a feverish kiss. You gasp out at the feeling of his hard cock as it buries inside of your aching cunt, your thighs trembling as they remain wrapped around his waist. 

“Dollface”, he exhales into the kiss, his mouth warm and wet against yours. And when he pulls back for air, your dazed eyes meet his as you brace your hands on his chest. Licking your lips, you inhale slowly before finally giving out your name, your most vulnerable piece of information. 

He smirks, clearly thrilled by the admission. For a split second you wondered if you’d done the right thing. Perhaps it had all been one grave mistake. If it was, you weren’t given time to ponder it as he reconnets your lips, this time with a passion unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

And that was exactly how you became infatuated with Choi Beomgyu.

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