#and they just bounce right back i love them

[xoluvx]

Hi love! I am heartbroken from seeing Billie crying at the Grammys, I was wondering if whenever you get a chance if you could write a little blurb of reader comforting her

hi, angel. totally.. here's a lil blurb. ily ₊˚⊹ᰔ

you could feel the tension radiating off her body. there was a lot riding on this - the last award of the night. the biggest award of the night. it'd all came trickling down to this. the kisses on your cheek washing away the disappointment after not hearing her name called for each nominated category, the hand squeezes, and subtle glances with the tight line smiles.

you patted her thigh as the presenter spoke. your heart was in your throat. you could feel your mouth going dry as you glanced at her. she was bouncing her leg rapidly. your fingers dug gently into the fabric of her pants attempting to calm her nerves. she gave you a faint smile before resting her hand on top of yours. you turned your palm and your fingers molded perfectly in a comforting grip as the nominees were announced.

you couldn't take your eyes off her as the tension multiplied. she was biting the inside of her cheek. her hand was growing clammy. she was rapidly moving her leg. her eyes focused on the presenter.

you heard the cheers before you could hear her name. a name that never came as she stood up applauding. her lips forming that familiar tight line smile. you sat dumbfounded. your hand touching the back of her thigh as she looked down at you giving you a smile that was so obviously fake. you could see right through her and her glistening eyes. you could feel her heart shattering as she turned back hearing the speech that'd probably been rehearsed like the one she'd brainstormed with you on the ride there.

a ride that had been full of giggles and kisses on cheeks and tender eyes and soft kisses on lips. it was all crashing down. when you heard the faint sniffle, you stood. your arm wrapping around her waist, your chin resting on her shoulder. she smiled faintly and looked at you. your lips touched the corner of her lips and she moved her body wrapping her arm around your shoulders until your limbs were tangled and her cheek was pressed against yours. you turned to her, lips brushing on her ear.

"i am so proud of you," you whispered. you were. you were so proud. award or no award, you'd been with her through it all and it didn't diminish the hard work she'd put into the album. she let the tears that were welling in her eyes fall. they cascaded down her cheeks so slowly, you caught them before in the tips of your fingers before they could reach her chin.

she turned to you with a smile. a genuine smile - it was shaky, but real. her hand cupped your jaw bringing your face close until your lips were touching ever so softly. your noses brushed. eyelids fluttered closed. it was just the two of you in your little world. where she kissed you just like this before delivering her speech. a speech she would still deliver when you got home as you cheered just for her because she was still a winner in your eyes. she always would be.

[peachesofteal]

Nori is such a menace she would deadass call Simon dad on purpose

Nori isn’t in bed when you wake up, and that’s a problem. 

You’ve been lucky, you guess, that Simon has been letting her sleep in your room. He even lets you lock it at night… if you’re “good”.

Small victories, or whatever. 

He’s figured out how to keep you here. How to threaten you effectively, complaints to child services, getting you fired from your job, getting you evicted, dumping your car in a river- 

Faking your death, and Nori’s. Letting you run only to bring you back again and again. 

“But I’d never hurt you, love. You or Nori, promise. Jus’ gotta trust me.” 

You’re biding your time. Waiting for the right moment, the opportune time to strike. He’s already told you he’ll have to leave for work, that he won’t be here for weeks or even months at a time, but he knows you’ll stay put. 

You’re not sure how he’s so confident, but you’re sure it’ll be his downfall. 

The saving grace in it all is that Simon doesn’t hurt Nori, or you. He’s not gentle with you so much, but with Nori, it’s different. It’s like watching a giant hold a delicate daisy in their massive hand, trying desperately not to crush it. 

It’s kind of… no. 

It’s kind of nothing. 

You rush out of the bedroom to find her sitting on the kitchen counter, little legs swinging and giggling, low cadence of Simon’s voice humming from the fridge to where she hovers over a big mixing bowl. 

“Mommy!” She smiles, arms up for a hug, but you stay on the outskirts, staring at the two of them. It’s bizarre how they look together. Nori is big for her age, was big when she was born, still in the ninety percentile, and next to him… she practically looks like she’s his. “Daddy said I could have pancakes.” Your mouth drop opens, so wide you know you’re catching flies. Simon only smirks. 

“Eleanor… baby, Simon isn’t… he’s not your dad.” Her little brow furrows, matching the pout in her bottom lip.

“But he said.” 

“He’s not your dad!” You snap, and the silence after is deafening. It lasts only a second before she bursts into tears, and Simon scowls at you. 

“Right, that’s enough.” He pulls her from the counter, holding her shoulders until she’s steady on her feet. “Go to your room and play, alright? Mum and I need to have a quick chat.” She looks from him, to you, nervously, reaching her hand out for yours. You squeeze it. 

“It’s okay, go ahead.” She nods, and waddles off, leaving you alone. With him. 

It’s quick this time. Face in the pillow, bent over his knees. He doesn’t pull your leggings down either, just wails on your ass, grunts every time he makes contact, squeezing and cooing as you sniffle. 

“If you’d listen, we wouldn’t have to do this honey.” 

“I’m not listening to you! You… you kidnapped us!” You’re trying to keep quiet for Nori’s sake, but it’s hard. Everything is hard. It’s unfair. He sighs.

“You’re in your own home, honey. How have I kidnapped you?” 

“Not kidnapped.” He hauls you upward, holding the back of your neck, wiping at your wet cheeks. “You’re holding us hostage. Just… leave! Let us go. Please.” It’s been weeks of this, and you won’t give up. The pleading. The begging. The tears don’t stop, and he pulls you into his chest. 

“I know, it’s hard isn’t it? I know.” He rubs your back, lips on your temple. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.” 

“Stop,” you croak, shaking your head. The comforting, the coddling, the affection makes it all worse. The way he kisses you, holds you. How he pulls you down on his cock and fills you up, wrists pinned tight at your back, your tits bouncing as he thrusts. 

You don’t want it. 

You beg him to stop. 

And he only holds you tighter as you come, eyes rolled back in your head, thighs shaking. 

It fills you with shame. Confusion. 

“I’m not going to stop, okay honey? We need to get this out of your system before the next one comes.” He caresses your stomach, and nausea builds in your throat. 

He’s been fucking you without a condom for weeks. Weeks. 

Your last birth control pack ran out six days ago. 

The time is ticking away. A bomb waiting to detonate, and there’s nothing you can do but sit in his lap- 

And cry. 

Later, he offers ice cream. A walk down the street to the parlor in search of Nori’s favorite flavor. A walk where you will pass people who will perceive you as a happy family, when all you want to do is grab one of them and beg for help. 

Nori is so excited for ice cream,  so happy. 

You can’t say no. 

“We’ll find you some strawberry baby girl. That sound good?” The two of you are putting on hats and jackets as he observes, thick fingers zipping your coat to your chin. “Can’t have you catching a chill.” 

“Right.” Nori beams as he does the same, tapping her nose before hoisting her up over his shoulder. 

“Ready?” 

She smiles at you mischievously, arms wrapped around his neck. “Ready, daddy.” 

[cosmicoceanfic]

“Hey,” Dean says, peeved.

“I don’t think he knows how to wash his clothes, Cas,” Claire continues. “Like, how do you fuck him? I bet he doesn’t know how to wash his balls.”

“I wash my balls!” Dean hollers as Sam enters the room. Without looking up from his book, Sam does a heel turn and exits just as quickly.

“He does wash his balls,” Cas confirms. “Although I would prefer not to discuss that particular aspect of our lives with you in the future. And his clothes do get washed. Eventually.”

“I wash my clothes plenty!”

“And what is plenty to you, Dean?” Claire asks, whipping out some frankly insulting air quotes.

“Once they start to smell!”

Claire gives Cas a Look.

“I throw them in with mine, usually,” Cas tells her.

“That’s not the same as him taking initiative, dude. Does he use the same soap he washes his pits with to wash his hair?”

“I am standing,” Dean thunders. “Right here.”

Cas ignores him. “No, he has shampoo. It’s nice, actually. Um. Fragrant.”

“Dean, do you know what a dryer sheet is?”

“Do you?” Dean snaps.

Claire pauses.

“That’s not the point,” she settles on.

“Oh, Little Miss Hygiene can’t take a hit all of the sudden?”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have a vagina. I bet you’d get UTIs all the time.”

“I shower!” Dean shouts. “I would have the cleanest vagina! Cas, back me up!”

“Um.” Cas considers it. “No.”

“Dude.”

“Mostly because I don’t have any real conception of what it would take to get you to that point. You do shower every day.”

“Sometimes with him,” Dean adds, just to see the face Claire pulls. “I bet you’re just mad cause you don’t have anybody to throw your clothes in the dryer with them.”

“Are you going after a teenage girl for not having a girlfriend?” Claire asks. “Are you trying to give me issues?”

“Oh, you’ve got plenty of issues without me, sister.”

Dean and Claire glower at each other for a moment. Cas, unconcerned, returns his attention to his beekeeping magazine.

Claire turns to Cas abruptly. “I can get you on Grindr in like, five minutes.”

“Claire,” Dean says at the same time Cas, turning a page, says “no, thank you”.

“There’s guys on there with asses you could bounce a quarter off of, probably.”

“I like Dean’s ass. And I like Dean. But,” Cas adds, as Dean starts to feel pretty smug. “If he eats crackers in the bed again, I will take you up on the offer.”

“If I get-“ Dean whirls on Claire. “He got raspberry jam on my silver pillowcase. Do you know how hard that is to clean up?”

Claire stares at the both of them.

“I changed my mind,” she announces. “Both of you are too old to find love again so I guess it’s good you found each other.”

She heads further into the Bunker without another word.

Dean looks at Cas. “You’d clean up on Grindr.”

“Thank you.” Cas turns another page. “I know.”

au where the destiel confession happens a few seasons earlier and claire finds out and is like “seriously? you stole my dad’s body, ripped my family apart and ruined my entire life to be gay for that??” and dean thinks cas will defend him but he just shakes his head sadly and says “i know 😔” and dean’s like “WHAT THE FUCK”

[winwintea]

on my bike

PAIRING ↬ ghost rider!lee jeno x fem!reader (feat. yu jimin/karina)

TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, angst, hidden feelings, best friends to lovers au, marvel au, ghost rider au, superhero au, antihero jeno potentially, reader is actually a mutant named surge, but she doesn't know it yet, karina is basically emma frost, this is NOT canon to actual marvel lore lol, more inspired by comics than the movies, jeno is a mix between johnny blaze and danny ketch, wrote the word 'venegance' so many times im starting to believe jeno is batman actually

WARNINGS ↬ mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, jeno crashing out, stunts going wrong, and a fight scene

SUMMARY ↬ after a brutal attack, stunt motorcyclist lee jeno stumbles upon a cursed bike and becomes the ghost rider. now bound to the spirit of vengeance, he fights to control his hellish powers while you, his childhood best friend, fall under the influence of a powerful telepath. as your own abilities awaken and tensions ignite, one question remains: will you save each other or burn together?

WORD COUNT ↬ 14.7k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ for @sungbeam's action figures collab!!!!! tysm for letting me join, this was literally the first time i've ever participated in a collab... and it was so fun. definitely challenged myself here, i'm not used to writing super hero or such action-packed scenes so if it's bad i apologize lol. anyways title is inspired by purple kiss i am in love with them now actually.

PLAYLIST ↬ no roots - alice merton; on my bike - purple kiss; nightmare - halsey; highway to hell - ac/dc; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money; bang bang bang - bigbang; million dollar baby - ava max; mad head love - kenshi yonezu; wanted dead or alive - bon jovi; the chain - fleetwood mac; house of memories - panic at the disco; hymn for the weekend - coldplay

“LEE JENO.”

you muttered under your breath, watching as the sound of a roaring motorcycle echoed through the streets of your city, a blur of black and chrome weaving recklessly through traffic. “Of course.”

The bell above the door jingled as Jeno strolled in, helmet in hand, his trademark smirk plastered across his annoyingly perfect face. His leather jacket was scuffed from what you could only assume was another unnecessary stunt, and his bleached white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

“Guess who just broke his own jump record,” he announced, sliding into the booth across from you.

“You mean guess who just almost got himself killed,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. ��Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I landed on someone’s house or anything.”

“Not this time,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Seriously, Jeno, you can’t keep pulling this shit. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned back, draping one arm casually over the seat. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Life without you being the industry’s walking insurance liability?” you shot back. “Sounds nice.”

For a second, his smirk faltered, but he quickly bounced back, leaning forward to snag a fry off your plate. “You worry too much. It’s cute, but unnecessary.”

“Don’t call me cute,” you muttered, snatching your plate away before he could grab another fry. “And I wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t make it your mission to stress me out every single day.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I’m perfectly fine right now,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something defensive.

You gave him a pointed look, gesturing toward the fresh scrape on his arm. “What about that, then? Don’t tell me that’s from cooking. You never cook.”

Jeno glanced down at the scrape, shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Fine, maybe I’m a little scratched up.”

“Scratched up doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, your voice softening. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching you do this to yourself, Jeno.”

His smile faded completely now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his helmet. “Look, Y/N, I get it, okay? But this is who I am. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to stick around either.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “You’re my best friend. I’m always going to stick around. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”

Jeno hesitated, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Yeah, well, too bad,” you replied, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Because I do. And one day, your luck’s going to run out, Jeno.”

The crowd at the high-stakes stunt show was massive. Rows of bleachers packed with spectators buzzed with anticipation. You sat near the front, hands gripping the edge of your seat, your stomach twisting in knots. Except it wasn’t from excitement, but from anxiety.

Jeno was notorious for taking unnecessary risks, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a local showcase; this was a high-profile event with reporters and big-shot sponsors. The stakes were higher, and so was the pressure.

He’d even sworn he was “clean this time,” but you weren’t convinced.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the highlight of the evening!” the announcer boomed, his voice carrying over the speakers. “The one, the only—Lee Jeno!”

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jeno rode into the arena, his sleek black motorcycle displayed under the spotlights. He raised one hand in acknowledgment of the cheers before revving up his engine, the rumble vibrating through the stands.

You exhaled sharply, muttering to yourself, “He better not screw this up.”

“Y/N!” Jeno’s voice rang out through his helmet’s mic, directly out of the speakers. He pointed at you, earning a cheer from the crowd. “This one’s for you!”

You rolled your eyes, your face heating up as you pulled your hands over your eyes. The spectators around you erupted into laughter and applause. “Great,” you muttered. “Now I’m part of the show.”

The announcer continued hyping up the crowd. “Jeno will attempt a daring backflip over not one, not two, but three flaming trucks! A feat no rider has dared before!”

Your stomach sank. Flaming trucks? Three? You shot Jeno a warning glare as he revved the bike again, giving you a wink in response.

Oh we’re so fucked.

Unbeknownst to you or Jeno, a group of shadowy figures loitered near the equipment trucks at the edge of the arena. But they weren’t here for the show. Instead, they were here for revenge. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar slicing through his brow, tightened his grip on a wrench.

“Showoff thinks he can cheat us and walk away?” he growled, “Let’s see him jump when his bike doesn’t even make it halfway.”

The group moved swiftly, one of them sneaking into the mechanics’ pit to tamper with Jeno’s ramp. Another slipped toward his bike, loosening key components. They didn’t care about the collateral damage. This was to send a message.

Jeno revved his engine once more, signaling to the crew that he was ready. The crowd roared as he sped toward the first ramp, flames rippled against the sides of the trucks he was about to clear.

You leaned forward in your seat, heart pounding. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” you muttered under your breath.

Jeno hit the ramp with precision, the bike soaring into the air like a black comet. The first flip was smooth, flawless even, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

But something went wrong on the descent.

The bike wobbled midair, tilting dangerously to the side. Jeno fought for control, but the tampered suspension buckled on impact with the second ramp. The motorcycle skidded, sparks flying as Jeno tumbled, his helmeted head slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.

The crowd gasped in unison, the cheers turning to horrified murmurs. You were on your feet in an instant, heart in your throat.

“JENO!” you screamed, scrambling down the bleachers toward the arena floor.

Before you could reach him, the saboteurs’ plan spiraled even further out of control. The flames from the trucks flared, spreading to the hay bales that lined the arena. As you sprinted toward Jeno’s crumpled form, one of the burning bales exploded, sending debris flying.

You didn’t even have time to react as a sharp piece of metal tore through the air, striking you across the side. Pain bloomed in your ribs, and you crumpled to the ground.

Dazed but conscious, Jeno pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off the stars in his vision. When his gaze landed on you lying motionless on the dirt, blood seeping into your shirt, something inside him snapped.

“No, no, no…” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. His bike was destroyed, the flames were spreading, and you. You were hurt because of him.

Ignoring the chaos and his own injuries, Jeno stumbled toward you, scooping you into his arms. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”

He didn’t know where to go, only that he had to get you help. Cradling your limp body, Jeno ran blindly, the roaring flames and chaos fading into the background. His arms ached from carrying you, your weight heavy but nothing compared to the crushing guilt that clawed at his chest. He glanced down at you, your face pale, a streak of blood running from your temple.

“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? Just fine.” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. 

The junkyard loomed ahead, its twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and mangled scrap metal casting long shadows under the moonlight. The attackers had scattered once the chaos at the arena spiraled out of control, but Jeno wasn’t about to risk being found. Not with you like this.

He stumbled into the junkyard, his knees nearly buckling as he reached what looked like the remnants of an old garage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and oil. He carefully laid you down on an old tarp, brushing a strand of hair from your face with shaking fingers.

“Okay, okay…” Jeno muttered, looking around frantically. “Think, Jeno. Think. I need to—need to stop the bleeding.”

He tore a strip from his tattered shirt and pressed it against the wound on your side, and watched as your chest slightly rose up and down. Relief flickered in his chest. This meant you were still alive. 

The makeshift bandage was quickly soaked through. “Dammit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease and sweat across his face. He needed help, but there was no one here. No one except—

The motorcycle.

It caught his eye in the far corner of the garage, half-buried under a pile of scrap. Its frame was unlike anything he’d ever seen, sleek yet ancient, with intricate carvings etched into the metal. It seemed almost alive, faintly glowing with an otherworldly orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

“What the…?” Jeno muttered, taking an unsteady step toward it. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the bike drew him in. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He glanced back at you, lying unconscious, and then at the motorcycle. Desperation clouded his judgment. Maybe. Just maybe? It could help. He didn’t know how or why, but the pull was undeniable.

Jeno reached out, his fingers hovering over the handlebars. The metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the glow intensified as if reacting to his presence.

“This is insane,” he muttered, but his hand closed around the grip anyway.

The second his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his arm, up his spine, and into his skull. He screamed, his knees giving out as an overwhelming heat consumed him. Flames erupted from the motorcycle, engulfing him in a fiery inferno that didn’t burn but felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.

Memories flashed before his eyes. Every reckless decision, every lie, every failure. The faces of those he’d hurt, including yours, swam in his vision. And then, a voice echoed in his head.

“Lee Jeno.”

Jeno’s body convulsed as the fire intensified, his skin crawling with molten energy. When the flames subsided, he was no longer the same. His hands burned with chains of fire, and his eyes glowed a fierce, demonic orange. He looked down at himself, his reflection faintly visible in the bike’s chrome. His face was a skull, wreathed in flames. The Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. Jeno was its vessel.

“My new Ghost Rider. Your sins are heavy. But your vengeance will be greater.”

“No,” Jeno whispered, his voice distorted, sounding like something almost inhuman. “What…what did you do to me?”

And then, Jeno heard the shouts of the attackers. They had followed him, closing in to finish what they started.

But they weren’t ready for what they found.

Jeno stood, the chains in his hands igniting with blistering heat. The Spirit of Vengeance surged within him, and with it came a single, overpowering urge: punish the guilty.

The attackers froze as he stepped forward, his skeletal face illuminated by the flickering flames. “You came for me,” Jeno growled, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Now you’ll burn for it.”

He lashed out with the chains, each strike searing through metal and flesh alike. The air was filled with screams as the flames consumed the saboteurs, leaving them scorched and broken. Vehicles erupted in explosions, sending shards of scrap flying through the air as the hellfire spread uncontrollably.

When the last of the attackers fell, Jeno stood motionless amidst the chaos, the flames dancing across his body slowly beginning to recede. The roar of the Spirit dimmed, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

And then he saw you.

The sight of your unconscious form lying so still on the ground sent a jolt through him. The fire in his chest flickered, replaced by an overwhelming horror. He dropped the chains and stumbled to your side, his skeletal hands trembling as he reached for you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and human once more. The flames that had raged across his body faded completely, leaving him kneeling in the dirt, cradling you as his normal face returned.

Tears stung his eyes as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around your limp body. The junkyard was silent again, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.

“What have I done?” Jeno whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. Even as the Rider, his mind. his heart. It all was still his. He couldn’t lose you.

The sound of distant sirens jolted him from his thoughts. He knew that if he stayed the two of you would be questioned. He gently lifted you onto the back of the fiery motorcycle, the flames reaching your body but leaving you unharmed. The bike seemed to growl beneath him, its power thrumming in his veins, and for the first time, Jeno felt a strange sense of control over the chaos.

With a sharp kick, the motorcycle roared forward, flames streaking behind it as Jeno sped off into the night. 

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing you heard as you drifted back into consciousness. It was followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital room. Your body felt heavy, and when you tried to shift, a sharp pain lanced through your side.

“Easy,” a soft voice said.

Your eyes fluttered open to find Jeno sitting beside your bed, looking utterly wrecked. His black hoodie was rumpled, his knuckles bruised and scraped. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked worried for once in his life, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

“Jeno.” you rasped, your throat dry. 

Relief flooded his face as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”

“Jeno.” you repeated again, your voice stronger now. 

He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “There was an accident at the show,” he began cautiously. “You…you got hurt. But you’re safe now. I got you out of there.”

The memories suddenly came rushing back. The flaming trucks, the explosion, the searing pain in your side. And then…nothing.

Your heart rate monitor began to beep faster as anger bubbled to the surface. “The show,” you said bitterly. “Of course. Because you just had to pull another one of your stunts.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself right now. I almost died, Jeno.”

His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m so sorry. If I could take it back—”

“But you can’t, can you?” you snapped, your hands pointed at him accusedly. “You can’t take it back, Jeno. Because this is what you do. You push and you push until someone gets hurt, and this time, that someone was me.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the problem,” you shot back. “You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. And I’m the one who has to pick up the broken pieces.”

Jeno flinched, like your words had physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Jeno. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol, while dragging everyone else down with you.”

“I’m trying to change,” he said desperately, leaning forward. “I swear, Y/N. I’m done with all of it, the…everything. I’ll stop.”

“You always say that,” you muttered bitterly, turning your head away. “But nothing ever changes.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint beep of the heart monitor.

“I’ll make it right,” Jeno said after a long pause, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The pain in your side was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as he slowly stood and stepped back.

“I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “But…I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I can be better.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, too-quiet room.

Sometimes Jeno’s promises were often just as hollow as the man who made them.

The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty streets as it skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty alley. Jeno ripped off his helmet, his chest heaving as he stumbled away from the bike. The orange glow of his eyes dimmed, leaving him in the dim light of a flickering street lamp.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in a cracked window—human again, but the memory of his skeletal visage haunted him.

This wasn’t the first night he’d changed. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it—the fire in his veins, the overwhelming urge to hunt, to punish. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence. Some demon was inside him, whispering in his mind, urging him to give in.

“They deserve to burn.”

The voice was deep and guttural. It slithered through his thoughts like a venomous snake, tightening its hold every time he tried to ignore it.

“I’m not listening to you,” Jeno growled, gripping his head as the voice chuckled darkly.

“You can’t silence me, Jeno. You’re mine now. We’re one.”

The demon never introduced itself. It didn’t need to. Jeno already knew as soon as he touched that damn motorcycle. Zarathos. The Spirit of Vengeance. The demon that had bound itself to his soul, using his body as a vessel.

Jeno clenched his fists, the faint glow of hellfire flickering across his knuckles. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a killer.”

“But you are a sinner,” Zarathos hissed. “And sinners punish sinners. The world is full of filth, and we will cleanse it.”

“No,” Jeno snapped, his voice echoing in the empty alley. “I’m not your executioner.”

The demon’s laughter rang in his head, low and mocking. “You say that now. But you felt it, didn’t you? The thrill? The power? The fire in your blood when you burned them? You enjoyed it.”

Jeno’s stomach churned at the memory of the attackers writhing in agony, the fire consuming them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them—at least, not like that. But Zarathos was right about one thing: the power was intoxicating. And that terrified him.

He slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a charred dent in the crumbling stone. “You’re not in control,” he growled. “I am.”

“For now.”

By day, Jeno tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He performed his stunts, practiced at the arena, and plastered on a smile for his fans. But every time he climbed onto a bike, the fire inside him stirred, eager to be unleashed.

It was always worse at night.

Jeno stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out below him like a labyrinth of shadows and flickering lights. The Spirit of Vengeance buzzed in his chest, pulling him toward something or someone.

He saw the scene before he heard it: a man in an alleyway, grabbing a young woman by the wrist. She screamed, struggling to pull away as the man loomed over her, a knife glinting in his hand.

Jeno’s vision blurred, his body moving on autopilot. The flames ignited before he even touched the bike, and when the Ghost Rider landed in the alley, the ground cracked beneath the weight of his fiery presence.

The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as the skeletal figure loomed over him. 

“You,” Jeno growled, his voice layered with Zarathos’ demonic timbre. “You prey on the innocent. What do you think you deserve?”

The man dropped the knife, stumbling backward. “I—I didn’t mean to—please, don’t hurt me!”

But the Spirit of Vengeance didn’t care for apologies. The chains in Jeno’s hands ignited, wrapping around the man and lifting him off the ground.

“Stop,” Jeno muttered, his human voice fighting to break through. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s guilty,” Zarathos snarled. “And guilt demands punishment.”

The man screamed as the chains tightened, the hellfire scorching his skin. Jeno’s hands trembled, his skull burning brighter as he fought to regain control.

“He’s human,” Jeno argued. “I won’t kill him.”

The demon roared in frustration but relented, the chains loosening just enough to drop the man to the ground. The would-be attacker scrambled to his feet and ran, his screams fading into the distance.

Jeno stood in the alley, the flames around him slowly fading. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with equal parts fear and gratitude.

“Go home,” he said gruffly, his voice still tinged with the Rider’s growl.

She nodded quickly, thanking him and disappearing into the night.

When the alley was silent again, Jeno collapsed against the wall, his human form returning. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.

“You see?” Zarathos sneered. “You can’t stop me forever. And soon, you won’t want to.”

Jeno closed his eyes, the weight of the demon’s presence pressing down on him. He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. But for now, he had to try.

The neon glow of the gas station sign flickered in and out, bathing the parking lot in harsh, artificial light. Jeno leaned against his motorcycle, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, but anyone who looked close enough would see the cracks in his façade—the trembling hands, the bloodshot eyes, the faint glow that threatened to seep from his skin if he let his guard down.

The whiskey burned his throat, but not nearly as much as the fire that roared in his chest every night. Zarathos was relentless, clawing at the edges of his sanity, and the only way Jeno could silence him was by drowning himself in the haze of alcohol and pills.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig. “Just until I figure this out.”

The lie tasted bitter, but it was easier to believe than the truth. He was losing control.

The next morning, you found him slumped over in his garage, reeking of smoke and booze. You hadn’t heard from him since you were discharged from the hospital, so you wanted to at least check in on him. But you weren’t pleased with what you saw. So much for promising change. 

“Jeno,” you said sharply, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.

He stirred, groaning as he lifted his head. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you shot back. “Why aren’t you at practice? Or, I don’t know, trying to clean up your mess for once?”

He winced at your words, sitting up and rubbing his temples. “Not now, okay? I’ve got a headache that makes me want to kill myself right now.”

You scoffed, stepping closer and yanking the bottle out of his hand. “Are you serious right now? This is what you’re doing with your time? Drinking yourself into oblivion while I’m out here trying to recover from almost dying?”

“I’m trying to deal with it!” Jeno snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t hate myself for what happened to you?”

“Then stop making it worse!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You’re spiraling, Jeno, and you’re not fighting this addiction at all.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 

The raw emotion in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

You shook your head, your anger softening but not disappearing. “If this is your idea of trying, Jeno, then you’re failing.”

As you turned to leave, something stopped you. A memory from the news. Whispers of a “fiery skeleton” that had been spotted taking down criminals in the dead of night. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.

“Jeno,” you said cautiously. “You’ve been out a lot at night. You wouldn’t happen to know or run into that ‘fire guy’ people are talking about, would you?”

His entire body stiffened, his back turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was damning. “...No.”

“Jeno,” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just…forget about it, okay?”

But you didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

“Jeno,” you said again, your voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”

He didn’t move.

“Jeno, look at me,” you repeated, more insistent this time.

Finally, he turned, and for the briefest moment, you swore you saw it—a faint glow in his eyes, like embers dying out. Your stomach twisted, a mix of fear and concern swirling in your chest.

“What happened to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jeno shook his head, stepping back. “You don’t want to know,” he said quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted. “I’ve known you my whole life, Jeno. I’ve stood by you through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”

But he just shook his head again, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. “I can’t,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit garage, more confused and worried than ever before.

So you needed a change of pace. If Jeno wanted to shut you out, then maybe you could use your time to focus on yourself more. 

You found yourself in your favorite cafe. The snug little store was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You were halfway through your drink, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the chair across from you was pulled out.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled, to see a strikingly beautiful woman with an air of effortless confidence. Platinum blonde hair framed her sharp, elegant features, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her tailored white coat and knee-high boots screamed sophistication, making you suddenly self-conscious of the oversized hoodie and jeans you’d thrown on.

“Uh…sure?” you replied hesitantly, gesturing to the chair.

She smiled, setting down her drink with precision. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked like you could use some company.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”

She tilted her head, studying you like you were an interesting puzzle. “Call it intuition.”

“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “It’s been…a rough few weeks.”

“I’m Karina,” she said smoothly, extending a hand.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it. Her grip was cool and firm, her smile almost too perfect.

“So, Y/N,” Karina said, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s been weighing on you? I’m a great listener.”

You hesitated. Something about her was disarming, almost magnetic. Before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say someone I care about is making it really hard to keep caring about them.”

Karina nodded sympathetically, her expression never wavering. “The burden of loyalty. It’s a heavy one, isn’t it? Is this about a man?”

“Yeah,” you said, surprised by how much her words resonated. “I’ve known him forever, but lately…I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s hiding something, and it’s tearing us apart.”

Karina sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “Sometimes, people hide because they’re afraid. Afraid of being judged, or rejected. But that doesn’t excuse them from the hurt they cause.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how accurately she’d summed up your feelings. “Exactly,” you said quietly.

“I know it’s not my place,” Karina continued, her tone gentle, “but maybe you need to take a step back. Focus on yourself for a while. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Her harsh words settled over you, surprised at her directness. But it was comforting to hear such honesty for once.

“I was thinking of it, but I don’t want to lose him either.” you admitted.

Karina’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, other than him, I’m here.” She slid a sleek, white business card across the table. “Call me anytime.”

You picked up the card, turning it over in your hands. There was no title, no address—just her name and a number embossed in silver.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.

“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, standing gracefully. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”

Over the next few days, Karina became a fixture in your life. She’d text you to check in, send little messages of encouragement, and even invite you out for coffee or dinner.

At first, you were wary. People didn’t just waltz into your life like this without a reason. But Karina was warm, attentive, and had an uncanny ability to say exactly what you needed to hear. Plus, she was looking for friends in the city too since she had just moved here. 

“So, what’s the full deal with this guy?” she asked one evening over dinner, sipping a glass of wine. “The one who’s been giving you all this grief.”

“His name is Lee Jeno,” you said reluctantly. “He’s my…well, we’ve been friends since we were kids. But he’s got issues. Big ones.”

“Oh damn. The stunt biker guy.” Karina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Issues like ‘he forgot your birthday,’ or issues like ‘he’s a raging alcoholic or drug addict or some other addiction’?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with unease. “Closer to the second one, honestly. Well, he’s always struggled with it. Yet, he’s been acting so weird lately. Disappearing at night, avoiding my questions. And sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s not even Jeno anymore.”

Karina leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it’s just him trying to hide his addiction? Nothing…bigger going on?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” Karina said breezily, waving a hand. “Just that sometimes, people go through changes. Big changes. Ones they don’t know how to explain. And sometimes, it takes someone else to help them see their true potential.”

You frowned, her words stirring something deep inside you. “I don’t know. Jeno’s not exactly the ‘ask for help’ type.”

Karina’s smile turned enigmatic, her blue eyes practically glowing. “Maybe not. But some people just need the right nudge. And who better to do that than you?”

There was something in her tone, something that made your skin prickle. But before you could dwell on it, Karina raised her glass in a toast.

“To new beginnings,” she said, her voice smooth as silk.

You hesitated, then clinked your glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”

As you drank, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina knew more about your life and Jeno’s than maybe she was letting on.

The opulent room was bathed in shadows, the flickering light of a chandelier casting jagged shapes on the polished mahogany walls. Karina stood at the center of the large, round table, her white ensemble a stark contrast against the room’s dark and decadent decor. Around her sat the upper echelon of the Hellfire Club, an underground organization of mutants with a reputation for ruthlessness and manipulation.

“Karina,” a deep, commanding voice said, breaking the silence. It belonged to the Black King, the leader of the group, whose piercing gaze bore into her. “My dearest White Queen. You’ve been unusually proactive lately. Care to share what’s captured your attention?”

Karina smiled coolly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve found something—or rather, someone—of immense potential.”

The Black Queen, a woman with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, leaned forward with an arched brow. “Do tell. Potential isn’t exactly rare these days. Why is this someone worth our time?”

Karina stepped closer to the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Her name is Y/N. She’s a baseline human. Or so she thinks. She’s yet to manifest her mutant abilities.”

She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Her energy is…raw, untapped, but powerful. I’ve felt it. It’s dormant now, but when it awakens, it will rival even the strongest of us. I’m surprised it’s taking her so long to manifest, but that’s what makes it so powerful.”

The Black King steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you so certain she’s worth the effort? If her powers haven’t manifested yet, there’s no guarantee they ever will.”

Karina tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her smile. “Oh, they will. I’ve already seen the signs—subtle as they are. Her emotions are volatile, and she’s drawn to chaos like a moth to flame. It’s only a matter of time before the spark ignites.”

The Black Queen’s lips curved into a smirk. “Interesting. And what do you propose we do with her once this ‘spark’ ignites?”

Karina’s smile turned predatory, her blue eyes gleaming. “We guide her. Shape her. I’m sensing some crazy electrical forces. Imagine what we could accomplish with her power under our control.”

“And if she refuses?” the Black King asked, his tone cold and measured.

Karina’s expression didn’t falter. “Then we ensure she has no choice. After all, loyalty is just another form of control. And I’ve already begun earning hers.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the other members exchanged intrigued glances.

The Black King leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Karina. But if you can deliver on your promises, the rewards will be worth the risk.”

“I always deliver,” Karina said smoothly.

The Black Queen raised her glass, the golden liquid catching the light. “Then here’s to your little pet project. Let’s hope she’s everything you claim she is.”

Karina raised her own glass in return, her smile never wavering. 

“Oh, she will be.”

Jeno stood outside the café, arms crossed and jaw tight as he watched through the window. There you were, sitting across from Karina again, laughing at something she’d said. The way you leaned in, the way she smiled that calculated, flawless smile—it all set his teeth on edge.

He clenched his fists, the faint flicker of flames threatening to ignite beneath his skin. Zarathos stirred in the back of his mind, growling low like an animal sensing danger.

“She’s not who she seems,” the demon whispered, its voice grating like embers crackling.

Jeno didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. He’d felt it the moment he’d laid eyes on Karina. Something about her was too perfect, too polished. And the way she’d latched onto you so quickly? It wasn’t right.

He waited until Karina had left before stepping inside. You looked up, surprised to see him, but your expression quickly shifted to irritation.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone defensive.

Jeno didn’t answer right away, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, his dark eyes searching yours. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. “If this is about Karina—”

“It is about her,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Y/N, you don’t know her. Not really.”

“And you do?” you shot back, crossing your arms.

“I don’t need to,” he said, his tone rising. “Something about her is off. I can feel it.”

You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Oh, great. Now we’re relying on your ‘feelings’ to judge people? Like your intuition ever worked in the first place. I’m lucky to be alive right now.”

Jeno’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Y/N. She’s not who she says she is. People don’t just waltz into your life and start playing therapist out of the goodness of their hearts.”

“Maybe she actually cares,” you snapped. “Unlike someone who disappears for days at a time without a word and comes back smelling like smoke and regret.”

Jeno flinched at your words, but he pushed forward. “I’m not perfect, okay? But I know when someone’s trouble. And Karina? She’s got ‘trouble’ written all over her.”

“Why do you even care?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything that’s happened. I don’t need your permission to make new friends.”

Jeno looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—hurt, maybe. “I care because I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”

For a moment, you almost softened. Almost.

But then you thought about Karina. How she listened, how she didn’t judge you, how she made you feel seen in a way Jeno hadn’t in months.

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” you said coldly. “Karina’s been more of a friend to me lately than you have.”

Jeno stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you shot back.

He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he shoved it back. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to leave. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Later that evening, you met Karina at her apartment. A sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. God, you were poor as hell. She greeted you with a warm smile, handing you a glass of wine as you settled onto her plush couch.

“You seem tense,” she noted, sitting gracefully across from you.

“Just had another fight with Jeno,” you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. “He’s convinced you’re some kind of…villain or something.”

Karina chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “He doesn’t trust me?”

“Not even a little,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s like he’s looking for reasons to push me away.”

Karina reached out, placing a hand over yours. Her touch was cool and comforting. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re afraid. Fear can make them see threats where there are none.”

You sighed, leaning back. “I just don’t get it. Why can’t he see that you’re trying to help me?”

Karina’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something calculated. “It’s because he doesn’t understand you the way I do. You’re special, Y/N. More than you realize.”

You frowned, her words catching you off guard. “Special? What do you mean?”

Karina smiled enigmatically, her fingers brushing against yours. “You’ll see. In time.”

Her words left a lingering unease in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t know what he was talking about.

Jeno leaned against the wall of his garage, staring blankly at the ground. Zarathos growled in the back of his mind, restless and impatient.

“You should have burned her,” the demon hissed.

Jeno closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists. “Shut up.”

“She’s manipulating her. The girl you care for. Can’t you feel it?”

Jeno’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. But what could he do? You weren’t listening to him, and every time he tried to warn you, it only pushed you further away.

“Then stop warning her,” Zarathos said, his voice low and menacing. “And show her what that woman truly is.”

Jeno opened his eyes, the flames flickering faintly in his irises. For once, he found himself agreeing with the demon. 

“You’re finally listening,” Zarathos hissed, its voice echoing in Jeno’s head.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jeno muttered, gripping the handlebars of the bike. “I didn’t ask for you, and I’m not letting you run the show.”

The Spirit of Vengeance laughed, a dark, grating sound that sent chills down Jeno’s spine. “You think you can control me, boy? You’re nothing without me.”

Jeno scowled, the flames creeping up his arms flaring brighter in response to his frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”

“Ah, the girl,” Zarathos sneered. “You think she’ll forgive you? That she’ll see you as anything but a monster?”

“She will,” Jeno said firmly, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him. “But first, I need to figure out how to use this…whatever this is.”

Zarathos growled. “Vengeance isn’t a tool, boy. It’s a purpose. A fire that consumes everything in its path.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not here to burn the world down,” Jeno snapped. “I’m here to protect it.”

The Spirit laughed again, its voice dripping with disdain. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Determined to understand his new abilities, Jeno spent every spare moment testing the limits of his powers. He discovered that the flames responded to his emotions, roaring to life when he was angry or scared and flickering out when he calmed himself.

One night, he stood in the middle of an abandoned road, the cursed motorcycle idling beside him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the growing warmth in his chest, and held out his hand. A whip of fire erupted from his palm, coiling and snapping like a living thing.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, extinguishing the whip with a flick of his wrist.

But every small victory was overshadowed by the constant presence of Zarathos. The Spirit’s voice was a relentless whisper in his mind, urging him to give in, to embrace the fire and let it consume him.

“Why fight it?” Zarathos taunted. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power. The thrill.”

Jeno ignored the voice, climbing onto the motorcycle and revving the engine. The flames along its frame flared to life, illuminating the darkness around him.

“I’m not your puppet,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the handlebars.

“We’ll see,” the Spirit replied, its laughter echoing in his ears as he sped down the road.

One evening, while patrolling the outskirts of town, Jeno stumbled upon a group of men mugging an elderly woman in an alley. His first instinct was to intervene, but as the flames began to crawl up his arms, Zarathos’ voice returned, stronger than ever.

“Punish them,” it hissed. “Make them suffer.”

Jeno hesitated, his heart pounding. The men turned to face him, their eyes widening in fear as they took in his glowing eyes and the flames licking at his jacket.

“Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble,” one of them stammered, backing away.

Jeno clenched his fists, the fire burning hotter. Zarathos was screaming in his mind now, urging him to unleash his fury.

“They deserve it!” the Spirit roared. “They’re guilty!”

But as Jeno looked at the terrified men, he saw something else—fear. Regret. They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t beyond saving, either.

“No,” Jeno said aloud, his voice steady. “Not like this.”

He extinguished the flames, stepping forward and forcing the men to flee with nothing more than his presence. The elderly woman thanked him tearfully, but as he walked away, the weight of Zarathos’ disapproval settled over him like a storm cloud.

“You’re weak,” the Spirit snarled. “One day, you’ll see. Mercy has no place in vengeance.”

“Maybe not,” Jeno muttered, mounting his motorcycle. “But I’m not just vengeance. I’m also me.”

The more Jeno used his powers, the more he began to notice strange connections—patterns he couldn’t ignore. The criminals he encountered often mentioned a name in hushed tones: Karina.

One night, he followed a lead to an abandoned warehouse, where he found a cache of high-tech weapons and equipment. The markings on the crates were unmistakable. This wasn’t ordinary crime.

“She’s not just some innocent bystander,” Jeno muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re finally catching on,” Zarathos sneered. “She’s more dangerous than you know. And she has her sights set on your girl.”

Jeno’s heart sank. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was piling up. Karina wasn’t who she seemed, and if she was connected to you, that meant you were in more danger than you realized.

He revved his motorcycle, the flames roaring to life. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, speeding off into the night.

The fire burned hotter now, fueled by a new determination. Jeno wasn’t just fighting to control the Spirit of Vengeance anymore. He was fighting to save you.

You sat in Karina’s sleek, modern apartment, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the pristine walls. A strange tension filled the room. Karina’s usually serene demeanor had shifted; there was an intensity in her gaze, something calculating behind her sharp blue eyes.

“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Karina asked, her voice soft yet commanding.

“Felt what?” you asked, frowning as you set your cup of tea on the table.

“That spark,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “The moments when your emotions run high—fear, anger, pain—and something stirs inside you. Something you can’t explain.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. You had felt something—fleeting moments of electric energy coursing through your body, like static building up but never quite releasing. But you’d written it off as stress or adrenaline.

“How do you know about that?” you asked warily.

Karina smiled, a knowing, almost maternal expression crossing her face. “Because I’ve seen it before. I know what you are, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. “What I am? You make it sound like I’m not a human.”

“You’re not just human,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re a mutant.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stared at her, the weight of her statement pressing down on you. “That’s not… I’m not…”

“You are,” Karina interrupted gently. “It’s why you’ve always felt different, why strange things happen around you when you’re upset. It’s your gift, Y/N. Your power.”

Your mind raced, flashes of unexplained incidents from your past bubbling to the surface: the lights flickering during arguments, the faint hum of electricity in your veins when you were scared. 

A mutant? But mutants were both feared and loved by society. Oh god, what would Jeno think?

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Karina reached out, placing a hand on yours. “You don’t have to say anything. I know how overwhelming this must be, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

You looked up at her, tears pricking your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know how to control it.”

“That’s where I come in,” Karina said smoothly. “I can help you. I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like the world doesn’t understand you. But I do.”

Her words were like a lifeline, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. But then a small voice in the back of your mind—Jeno’s voice—echoed faintly: She’s not who she says she is.

You shook your head, brushing the thought away. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t understand.

Karina led you into a hidden room within her apartment, the walls lined with advanced tech and holographic screens displaying maps, dossiers, and data that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“What is all this?” you asked, glancing around in awe.

“This,” Karina said, gesturing to the room with a flourish, “is part of something much bigger. A movement, if you will. The Hellfire Club.”

You turned to her, confusion etched across your face. “The Hellfire Club? What is that?”

“We’re an organization dedicated to ensuring mutantkind rises to its rightful place in the world,” Karina explained, her voice laced with passion. “For too long, mutants have been oppressed, hunted, and treated as less than human. But we’re done hiding. We’re done being afraid.”

Her words stirred something in you—a mix of fear and curiosity. “What does this have to do with me?”

Karina stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Everything. Your powers, Y/N—they’re extraordinary. Once they’re fully awakened, you’ll be capable of things most mutants can only dream of. But you need guidance. Training. And that’s what I’m offering you.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“None of us did,” Karina said, her voice softening. “But we don’t get to choose what we are. We can only choose how we use it. And you, Y/N, have the potential to change everything.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, “But to do that, you have to let go of your fear. You have to embrace who you are. And you have to trust me.”

There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to believe every word she said. But deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Karina smiled, her expression unreadable. “No catch, my dear. Only the promise of a future where you can be free—where we can all be free.”

You hesitated, torn between the comfort of her words and the nagging feeling in your gut. “I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Karina said smoothly. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Y/N. Your power is a gift. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

As you left her apartment that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to believe her, to trust her, but something about her intensity unsettled you.

And as you walked into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something much larger and much more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.

Jeno sat on the curb outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion and regret. His jacket was torn, his knuckles bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, and the faint smell of whiskey lingered on his breath. He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his lap, the flames of his inner turmoil simmering just beneath the surface. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder, more unbearable.

When you stepped outside, startled to find him there in the dead of night, his eyes met yours. They were glassy, but not from the alcohol. There was something raw and vulnerable in them, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn back inside. But the sight of him—broken, disheveled, and so unlike the confident Jeno you’d always known—pulled you forward.

“Jeno?” you said cautiously, stepping closer. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the tension between you was far more chilling.

He looked up, his eyes hollow yet filled with a desperation that made your chest tighten. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He stood, swaying slightly, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I—I needed to see you.”

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked like a ghost of the man you once knew, his charm buried beneath layers of pain and self-destruction. “It’s the middle of the night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to shield yourself from the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just show up like this.”

“I know,” he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know I’m a mess. But I—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

You frowned, torn between frustration and concern. “What do you mean?”

Jeno’s hands trembled as he gripped the bottle tighter, then hurled it across the street. It shattered against the pavement, the sound cutting through the stillness like a scream. “This!” he shouted, gesturing wildly to himself. “I’m losing control, Y/N! Of everything. Of my powers. Of… of me.”

You stepped back, startled by the outburst. “Jeno, calm down—”

“I can’t!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. But it’s like I’m fighting this thing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.”

His hands ignited for a split second, flames licking at his skin before fizzling out. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the fire—real, tangible fire—coming from his hands was impossible to process. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. “Jeno… what was that?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He clenched his fists, shaking his head as if trying to push the Spirit’s voice out of his mind. “It’s me,” he said bitterly. “Or… it’s not me. I don’t even know anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. “I’m not just some messed-up stunt rider, Y/N. I’m… I’m the Ghost Rider.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Your mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the Jeno you knew with the stories you’d heard about the fiery vigilante haunting the city. “The Ghost Rider?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… that’s impossible.”

“I wish it was,” he said, his voice hollow. “But it’s real. The flames, the power, the voice in my head—it’s all real. And it’s killing me, Y/N. Every time I transform, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. And the things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair again. “I’m a monster.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, but the shock of his confession kept you rooted to the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice rising. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with this alone, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. You’re the one person who still sees something good in me, and I couldn’t risk losing that.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his words hit you. “Jeno, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

“And then there’s you,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with anguish. “You’re the one thing. The only thing that makes me want to be better. But I’m screwing that up too, aren’t I?”

“Jeno…” You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words leaving you stunned. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, fear, anger, and an overwhelming sadness for the man standing in front of you.

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not to her. Not to Karina.”

You stiffened at the mention of her name. “This again? Jeno, I told you—Karina’s helping me. She understands me in a way you don’t. She—”

“She’s using you!” Jeno snapped, his voice rising. “You think she cares about you? She’s manipulating you, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I feel it.”

“You don’t know her,” you shot back, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what it’s like to feel so out of control. Karina does.”

“And I don’t?” Jeno asked bitterly. “I’ve been out of control my whole damn life. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying because of you.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand down his face, his composure crumbling. “I love you,” he said finally, his words barely audible. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeno… you can’t.” you began, your voice faltering. “That’s so unfair. You can’t fucking drop that on me?” 

He grabbed your hands, his touch warm despite the cold night air. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t trust her. Don’t let her pull you into whatever she’s planning. I can’t lose you to her.”

You pulled your hands away, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You don’t understand, Jeno. I’m finally starting to figure out who I am, and Karina is helping me. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“And what about me?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What about us?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

Jeno stared at you, his expression a mix of heartbreak and resignation. “You’ve already chosen her, haven’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. The silence between you was deafening, and when Jeno finally turned and walked away, the flames that had always surrounded him seemed smaller, dimmer.

The air inside the abandoned factory was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the rusted machinery and crumbling walls, creating an eerie backdrop for the confrontation you knew was coming. You stood frozen at the edge of the room, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. Your hands trembled at your sides, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between your fingers. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the energy surging through you, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.

Karina stood at the center of the room, her white suit pristine despite the grime of the factory. Her diamond-shaped earrings caught the faint light, glinting like shards of ice. She watched you with a calculating gaze, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “The power inside you, begging to be unleashed. You don’t have to fight it, Y/N. Let it out.”

“Stop. Get out of my head.” you snapped, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. 

Her smirk widened. “Darling, you can barely control your own abilities. I’m just helping you clear your mind. To help you relax. ”

Before you could respond, a deafening roar tore through the silence. The factory doors exploded inward, shards of metal and wood scattering across the floor. Flames erupted in the doorway, and through the inferno, Jeno emerged on his motorcycle, the Ghost Rider in full form. His flaming skull cast an ominous glow across the room, and his chain dragged behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.

“Karina!” Jeno’s voice was a guttural growl, distorted by the Spirit of Vengeance. “Step away from her.”

Karina turned toward him, her smirk never faltering. “Well, well,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “The Spirit of Vengeance finally decided to crash the party. How… predictable.”

You took a step forward, panic rising in your chest. “Jeno, don’t do this!”

He glanced at you briefly, his fiery gaze softening for just a moment. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want you to see this.”

Karina laughed, a cold, melodic sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. Not when she’s finally starting to understand her potential.”

Jeno’s flames roared brighter, his chain snapping taut in his hands. “You’re not laying a finger on her.”

Karina’s eyes glowed with a faint silver hue, her telepathic powers flaring to life. “I don’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy you, Jeno.”

The telepathic assault hit Jeno like a freight train. His flames flickered, dimming as he staggered back, clutching his skull. The Ghost Rider’s growl turned into a pained roar as Karina’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and venomous.

“You’re a failure, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, her words cutting deeper than any physical blow. “A coward. A junkie. You think you can protect her? You couldn’t even protect yourself.”

Jeno dropped to his knees, his chain clattering to the ground. His fiery skull dimmed further, revealing glimpses of his human face beneath, twisted in agony. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “No, I—”

Karina stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You left her to die, Jeno. You’re the reason she almost bled out in that junkyard. And now you think you can save her from me? You’re pathetic.”

“Stop it!” you screamed, stepping forward. But an invisible barrier, a telekinetic shield, held you back. You slammed your fists against it, sparks of electricity crackling against the force field. “Let him go!”

Karina didn’t even glance at you, her focus entirely on Jeno. “You’re nothing without the Spirit of Vengeance. Just a broken man with nothing to offer.”

Jeno’s flames sputtered, his body trembling as he fought against her mental assault. But then, something snapped.

A surge of electricity exploded from your body, shattering Karina’s barrier and sending a shockwave through the room. The force of it knocked Karina back, her telepathic hold on Jeno breaking as she stumbled. Sparks danced along your skin, and the lights in the factory flickered wildly, casting the room in a chaotic strobe of light and shadow.

Karina’s calm façade cracked for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. “What…?” she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

You looked down at your hands, electricity arcing between your fingers. The buzzing energy in your veins was overwhelming but exhilarating, like you were finally alive for the first time. “I don’t know what you did to me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “But I’m done letting you manipulate me.”

Jeno rose to his feet, his flames roaring back to life as the Spirit of Vengeance surged within him. He turned to you, his fiery gaze filled with both awe and concern. “Y/N… your powers…”

You met his gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in your chest. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we stop her. Together.”

Karina’s lips twisted into a scowl. “You think you can stop me? Both of you are just scared little children playing with powers you don’t understand.”

Her eyes glowed again as she prepared to strike, but this time, you were ready. Electricity coursed through your body as you raised your hand, sending a bolt of lightning toward her. Jeno’s chain ignited in flames as he lashed out, the Ghost Rider and your newfound powers colliding in a chaotic, electrified storm of fire and fury.

Sparks flew as your electricity surged wildly, ricocheting off metal beams and machinery, while flames from Jeno’s Ghost Rider form scorched the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal, the heat of the battle pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Karina narrowly avoided both attacks.

You stood in the middle of it all, suddenly trembling as the power in your veins pulsed out of control, the air around you crackling with raw energy. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in your ears.

“Jeno, stop!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the storm of noise. “I can’t— I can’t control it!”

“Y/N, get out of here!” Jeno growled, the hellfire in his skull burning brightly as he dodged a telepathic assault from Karina. His chain lashed out, the flames leaving a trail of fire as it whipped through the air. “I’ll handle her!”

“You can’t handle me, Rider,” Karina sneered, her diamond-covered hand catching the flames of Jeno’s chain and deflecting them with ease. The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading to the ground, illuminating her cold, calculating smirk. She twisted her body back to flesh, her eyes glowing as she aimed a telepathic blast toward you. “And neither can she.”

The attack hit you like a freight train, sending you stumbling backward. Your head throbbed as Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and venomous. You’re a danger to everyone around you, Y/N. Look at him. He’s already breaking because of you.

“No!” you shouted, gripping your head as electricity sparked uncontrollably from your body, burning holes in the ground. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that threatened to consume you. “Get out of my head!”

Jeno roared, swinging his flaming chain toward Karina with a ferocity that shook the room. “Leave her alone!”

Karina turned to diamond just in time, the chain clashing against her hardened form with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the factory, shattering nearby windows and sending shards of glass raining down. Jeno pulled back and lashed out again, but the attacks only glanced off her unyielding body, leaving faint scorch marks on her diamond skin.

“You’re predictable,” Karina taunted, reverting back to her human form. Her voice dripped with malice as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. “And reckless.” Her eyes narrowed, her telepathic powers flaring as she struck again, this time targeting Jeno. Which is why you’ll never be enough for her.

Jeno froze, his flames flickering as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The Ghost Rider’s growl faltered, his fiery skull dimming as Karina’s mental assault dug into his deepest insecurities. “I… I…” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Seeing her opening, Karina lunged, her diamond form shimmering into existence as she aimed a devastating punch at Jeno’s chest. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending him flying into a stack of metal crates. He hit the ground hard, the flames around him sputtering as he struggled to rise.

“Jeno!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic. Electricity surged through you, the power building to a dangerous level as your fear and anger took over. You raised your hands, the energy crackling wildly as you unleashed a massive bolt of lightning toward Karina.

She shifted to diamond just in time, the electricity ricocheting off her hardened form and striking a nearby generator. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris crashing through the factory, the force of it knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the breath driven from your lungs as pain shot through your ribs.

Karina emerged from the smoke, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her once-pristine suit now torn and scorched. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand, Y/N,” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.

“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, electricity arcing dangerously around you. Your body ached, your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stand. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“I gave you purpose!” Karina snapped, shifting back to her human form as she tried to invade your mind again. But you were ready this time.

The moment her telepathic influence touched you, your electricity surged outward in a massive wave, cutting off her connection. The lights in the factory exploded, plunging the room into flickering darkness lit only by Jeno’s flames and the electric blue glow of your powers. The air buzzed with energy, the tension so thick it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.

Jeno took advantage of the distraction, his chain wrapping around Karina’s leg and yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a sharp thud, immediately shifting to diamond to avoid his next attack. Jeno’s flames roared brighter as he swung his chain again, the fiery links crashing against her diamond form with enough force to send her skidding across the floor.

“You’re out of tricks, Karina!” Jeno snarled, his skull blazing with hellfire.

Karina smirked, standing slowly. “Am I?”

With a wave of her hand, she sent shards of diamond-like energy hurtling toward you. Jeno’s flames flared brighter as he leapt in front of you, the shards disintegrating against his burning form. But the force of the attack sent him staggering, his flames flickering as he struggled to stay upright.

“Y/N, focus!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder at you. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his human form flickering beneath the Ghost Rider’s flames. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The chaos of the battle overwhelmed you, but Jeno’s words anchored you, giving you the strength to push past the fear. Electricity sparked and crackled around you as you raised your hands, channeling the power into a focused current. The energy shot forward, slamming into Karina with enough force to send her flying into a pile of crates.

She staggered to her feet, her diamond form flickering as she struggled to maintain it. For the first time, she looked rattled, her breathing ragged and her movements slower, more deliberate.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.

“We’ll see about that,” Jeno growled, flames flaring as he stepped forward.

You steadied yourself, your hands still sparking, ready for whatever came next. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of control over your powers. With Jeno by your side, you knew you wouldn’t back down.

Karina straightened, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. She held up a hand, her expression unreadable. “Enough,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. “I can’t keep this up forever.”

Jeno growled, his chain igniting in fiery protest as the Spirit of Vengeance pushed him to finish the fight. “You don’t get to walk away, Karina.”

But you stepped forward, placing a hand on his burning shoulder. “Jeno, wait,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “Let me handle this.”

Jeno’s skull turned slightly toward you, the flames in his sockets flickering with hesitation, but he relented, lowering his chain. “Fine. But don’t trust her.”

You turned to Karina, your chest heaving as you fought to steady the overwhelming power coursing through you. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with exhaustion and hurt. “You said you were helping me. Was it all a lie?”

Karina’s diamond form flickered briefly before she reverted fully to flesh and blood. For the first time, you saw something human in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe doubt. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, straightening her posture.

“I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not about everything. You do have incredible potential, Y/N. More than you realize. But… I didn’t approach you purely out of kindness.”

“Then why?” you demanded, the electricity around you sparking dangerously.

Karina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Because I needed you. Your powers. For the Hellfire Club’s plans. You were… a means to an end.”

Your chest tightened at her words, but before the anger could take hold, she continued.

“But,” she said, glancing away, “it wasn’t all manipulation. I—” She paused, the unflappable Karina momentarily at a loss for words. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N. You’re smart, kind… and you made me see things differently.”

“Differently?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Karina met your gaze, her icy composure softening. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing what I thought was necessary—making hard decisions for the ‘greater good.’ But being around you… it reminded me of who I used to be, before all of this. Before I became... this.”

Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming but still present. “If you’re having second thoughts, prove it. Walk away.”

Karina looked between you and Jeno, her expression conflicted. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, but instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, metallic gauntlets.

“Here,” she said, tossing them to you. You caught them instinctively, the cool metal humming faintly in your hands. “They’ll help you control your powers. Keep you from accidentally frying someone. I was supposed to give them to you after you joined us.”

You stared at the gauntlets, then back at her. “Then why are you giving me these now?”

Karina smiled faintly, a flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her usual cool demeanor. “Because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Power without control... it’ll destroy you. And I’d rather not see that happen.”

Jeno crossed his arms, his fiery gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t absolve you of everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” Karina said, her voice quiet. She turned to you, her expression serious. “If things get worse. Like if the Hellfire Club comes after you. Call me. I’ll help you.”

“Why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Karina gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Because despite everything, I care about you, Y/N. More than I expected to.”

With that, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the factory’s exit.

“You’ll never stop looking over your shoulder if you go back to them,” Jeno called after her, his voice hard.

Karina paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But we don’t all get to ride off into the sunset with a gorgeous woman who can manipulate electricity by our side, do we, Rider?”

And then she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

You stood there, clutching the gauntlets tightly, your heart a storm of emotions. Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming until they extinguished completely, leaving him in his human form.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “I think so. For now.”

He gave you a small, tentative smile. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

The factory was a wreck. The floors were scorched, the walls cracked from the battles you fought, and the lingering scent of burnt rubber and ozone filled the air. You and Jeno both stood in the aftermath, looking like a pair of survivors who had just stumbled out of a warzone—except, in your case, the war was against a woman who could turn into a diamond. And, you know, manipulate minds. No big deal.

You winced as you flexed your wrist, the burn from a stray blast still making your skin tingle. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed his own set of injuries: deep cuts across his arms and a nasty gash on his forehead, not to mention his previously pristine jacket now reduced to ash and scorched fabric. Classic Jeno, always wearing the most expensive thing in a junkyard brawl.

“Hey, so…” you began, shifting uncomfortably as you tried to ignore the awkward silence hanging between you two. “About all the… revelations tonight.”

Jeno shot you a sideways glance, and you could see the weight of everything that had happened sinking in. The Spirit of Vengeance had left him, so at least he wasn’t looking like a flaming skull for now, but you could still see the lingering guilt in his eyes. The man was a walking metaphor for a storm. Wild, unpredictable, and, apparently, in need of a good therapist.

“Yeah, you don’t say,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “So, uh, what now? Do we pretend that didn’t happen? Or is the whole ‘electricity-generating mutant’ thing a forever deal?”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think I just woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll be a walking lightning rod for the rest of my life’?”

Jeno winced as he straightened up, his movements stiff. “No, I didn’t, but... you know. Seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Great. I’ll add it to my ‘What I Did Wrong Today’ list,” you muttered, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise in you. But it wasn’t just at your powers. It was at the one thing you couldn’t quite shake off: Jeno.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone suddenly more serious. “And what about you, huh? Still think popping pills and riding a bike through fire is a good coping mechanism? Especially since you’re apparently made of fire now?”

Jeno flinched, and for a moment, it felt like the old Jeno was retreating back into his shell—the one he built to protect himself from all the things he couldn’t face. He kicked the ground, looking at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t— It’s just…” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Jeno,” you said, voice softer now. You placed a hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m serious. If you want to stay in my life. If you really care about me at all. You need to get help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Jeno glanced up at you, his usually cocky demeanor replaced with something a little more vulnerable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. And I promised you I’d get better. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”

You took a deep breath, your frustration dissipating just slightly. The old, familiar bond you shared was still there, tangled in with the new, raw emotions. You nodded, but added with a small, teasing smirk, “If you ever try to pop a pill in front of me again, I’ll use you as a lightning rod. Got it?”

Jeno gave a half-laugh, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. No more pills. Just the occasional dramatic motorcycle crash for old time’s sake.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s so much better,” you deadpanned. “But seriously, Jeno, I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself first. I won’t watch you burn up from the inside out.”

He met your gaze, the flicker of sincerity in his eyes making you pause. “I’ll try, Y/N. I swear. I’m tired of hurting myself—and you.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into your bones. “Good. And, uh, while we’re on the subject—if you ever want to not be on fire for five seconds, I’ve got these new gauntlets that could help with the whole ‘literal fire hazard’ thing. Maybe we should figure out how to duplicate them.”

Jeno’s eyes flicked to the gauntlets you were still holding, raising an eyebrow. “You think those are going to keep me from turning into a human torch?”

“Well, they won’t stop you from being a hot mess,” you quipped, “but they might help with the literal hot mess part. Try them on. See if they can cool you off. But give them back, I don’t wanna electrocute you later.”

Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else.” He pulled the gauntlets on with a shrug. They fit perfectly, “Better than getting burned alive, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” you said with a small smile. “See? We’re making progress.”

He gave a small, half-smile in return. “One step at a time.”

The first few days after the chaos in the factory felt like the world had hit the pause button. You were still grappling with the full weight of what had happened—the fight, Karina’s departure, and the truth about your powers. But more than that, you were trying to figure out how to not burn down the nearest building while you practiced controlling your mutant abilities.

Your bedroom had turned into an impromptu testing ground for your electrical powers, and you were starting to actually feel like a walking lightning rod now. The first time you accidentally zapped the toaster, you almost burned down the kitchen. It’s fine, you told yourself. I’ll just keep a fire extinguisher in every room.

"Okay, just breathe," you muttered, staring at the lamp in front of you. Your hands crackled with electrical energy. "Focus. You’re not going to fry this lamp into oblivion. You’ve got this."

The lamp flickered. Then, with a sudden snap, it exploded in a burst of light.

"Okay, maybe not. Plan B: Try not to set anything on fire this time," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. You glanced at the charred remnants of your lamp. Great. I’m a walking disaster.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Jeno was wrestling with his own set of issues. His recovery wasn’t as simple as just kicking a habit. It was as if his very soul had to unlearn years of reckless behavior and self-destruction. And while he was committed to getting better, you had a sneaking suspicion that his journey would involve more than a few missteps along the way.

You walked into the living room, where Jeno was sitting on the couch, staring at a glass of water like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.

"How’s it going, big guy?" you asked, leaning in the doorway.

Jeno glanced up and sighed dramatically. "I’m just sitting here, contemplating the universe. You know, the usual."

"Right. The deep, soul-searching kind of contemplation." You gave him a pointed look. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that water can’t be addictive?"

He shot you a dry look. "Very funny. But no, I’m actually just trying to make sure I don’t relapse into firing up my bike for no reason."

You raised an eyebrow. "And that’s going well, I assume?"

"Actually," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I’m being good. No fire, no bike stunts, just... boring old rehab."

"Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to be extra dramatic about it. It’s your brand."

Jeno smirked, the hint of his old self shining through. "Yeah, well, I’m trying to unbrand myself."

You chuckled. "Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the Ghost Rider brand is hard to shake."

Jeno exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "I hate that name."

You threw your hands up. "What? It’s catchy!"

"Catchy? It sounds like I’m auditioning for a cheesy horror movie," he grumbled.

"But the cool demon guy gave you it."

Jeno gave you a playful glare. "And he wants me to exterminate every sinful person in this world, so is he really ‘cool’?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall into your bad habits again. Humor is the only thing that gets me through this madness."

Jeno stared at you, a mix of amusement and sincerity on his face. "Thanks, Y/N. Really. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You softened, though you couldn’t resist throwing in a final jab. "Probably set something on fire, knowing you."

"Don’t tempt me," Jeno warned with a grin.

"Okay, okay," you relented, holding up your hands. "I’ll stop. But hey, how about we both try and figure this out without burning anything down, deal?"

Jeno looked at you, a little more serious now. "Deal."

And so, you began this new chapter, with a growing sense of purpose. You and Jeno were both trying to reclaim control over your lives, and though it wasn’t easy, it was at least a little bit more bearable with each other’s help.

As for you, well, you still had a lot to learn about controlling your powers. But you figured you could start small, maybe with not blowing up your appliances. After all, if you could survive your own chaotic life, maybe saving the world wasn’t that far out of reach.

The night was cool, but the air still carried the buzz of the day’s chaos. The city sprawled out before you, lights flickering in the distance, the world oblivious to the storm that had just passed through. You and Jeno stood side by side in the parking lot, where the remnants of your battle and struggles were already fading into the distance.

Jeno’s bike sat next to you, the engine idling with that low growl that had always gotten your heart racing—before you knew all the trouble it would bring. You felt the familiar charge in the air as your hands crackled with electric energy, but it was different now. Controlled.

“Well, this is... weird,” you said, tapping the side of your gauntlets and watching the sparks dance around your fingertips.

Jeno shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you being the dangerous one now. What’s next? You’re gonna start taking over the world?"

You rolled your eyes. “World domination? Please. I’ll start with not burning down my apartment.”

Jeno gave you a knowing look. “One step at a time, right?”

He mounted his bike and revved the engine, the sound echoing through the empty streets. You followed suit, stepping onto the back of his bike with a practiced ease that only came from years of friendship—and more than a few questionable decisions. 

As Jeno revved the engine again, you looked at the skyline one last time, feeling the electric hum of your powers simmer beneath your skin.

"You know," Jeno said, breaking the silence as his hand gripped the handlebars tighter, "I think I’ve got a name for you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again."

"No, seriously. You need a name," he insisted, glancing at you with that same cocky grin. "Surge. It fits. You’ve got the whole ‘electricity’ vibe going on."

You stared at him for a moment, and then—after a deep, soul-searching pause—let out a dramatic sigh. “Surge? Seriously?”

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said with a shrug, clearly pleased with himself. "It’s got that ‘superhero’ ring to it."

You immediately shoved him lightly, making him almost lose his balance. "Shut up, Jeno. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."

“Come on, it’s not that bad!” he protested, his laughter echoing in the night. "Alright, alright, we’ll work on it. But you can’t deny it—Surge has a nice ring to it."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Just drive, Jeno. You’re lucky I’m not zapping you off this bike right now.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” Jeno started the bike and, with a final glance toward the horizon, sped off into the night, the flames of his chain lighting up the road ahead.

The wind whipped through your hair, the flames of Ghost Rider and the crackling electricity of your powers illuminating the streets as you rode side by side. The world still had its dangers, but right now, the night felt endless. 

“Like would our ship name be Surge Rider or Ghur—”

“Shut the fuck up and drive.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[scorpioriesling]

omg hey would you please do a bodhi or garrick smut i love your writing

The Sting of Jealousy

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Bodhi x reader

Kink(s): 18+, mdni, smut

Summary: This is shorter but that’s a-okay; it’s nearly porn without plot, ok? I’ve been writing so much smut lately to prepare for Kinktober — but, this one needed to be published asap. (; Who doesn’t love jealous Bodhi?

SR’s Note: I’ve never written for Garrick sooo I’ll absolutely be taking you up on Bodhi smut because well I love him I’m sorry (i’m not) + tysm for the compliment!! omg

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Bodhi…”

His name slips from your lips in a quiet whisper, the sentence dying on your tongue as he kisses up your neck. The light from the dorm room lamp winks out as your eyes flutter closed, the pure ecstasy flowing through your every vein as your boyfriend’s hands continue to wander.

“What’s that, baby?” He coos, feeling rather satisfied with the way he’s pleasuring you. You squint, your gaze taking over every rippling muscle in his back as his lips kiss across your chest more forcefully. You squirm beneath him, his fingers slowly tracing down your exposed stomach and nearing the apex of your thighs.

“I… oh,” You suck in a breath as his middle finger finds your clit, rubbing lightly over the bundle of nerves. He chuckles, low and deep before placing a kiss just beneath your ear.

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles, his fingers slowly moving towards your awaiting core. He slips his middle and ring finger inside, pumping them slowly as you continue to huff beneath him.

“Bodhi… please,” you beg, but he continues to kiss your neck. Air escapes your lungs when you feel his teeth against your neck, biting and sucking softly as he continues to work his fingers into you.

“P-please… oh Gods,” you pant, and he pulls back with a satisfied smirk.

“There,” he says, his fingers slowly slipping out of you. “Now there’s no question who you belong to.”

Another heat wave washes over you — Bodhi was hot, but jealous Bodhi?

Let’s just say you didn’t exactly stop Ridoc’s playful flirting today at training.

“I don’t think it was ever a question-“ you’re cut off as your boyfriend stands, yanking you to the edge of the bed in one swift motion. You squeak as his hand connects with the underside of your ass, his fingers still wet with your arousal.

“You’re right. It wasn’t.” He tosses your legs over his shoulders, baring your aching core to him. His cock is in his hand in seconds, your slick smearing over it a few times before he aligns himself with you.

And slams inside.

“BODHI-“

“You’ll just have to learn the hard way,” he tuts, his fingers wrapping around your throat. He leans in, pulling his dick out of you and thrusting it back in.

“Very, hard way.”

You gasp, the sudden full feeling of his big cock inside of you cooking the band in your lower belly. He continues driving into you, and you struggle to keep quiet.

“B-baby, I… I t-told you Ridoc’s just a friend-“

His hand releases your throat, opting to splay along your jaw instead. A tortured horny expression crosses his face as he stares down at you, his thumb slipping between your lips.

“Don’t ever say another man’s name while I’m fucking you,” he growls, his hips snapping harder against your ass. “If he’s such a good friend, why was he eye-fucking my girlfriend today then, huh?”

You moan, his irritation only turning you on. Bodhi hated when other men flirted with you — so much he could barely control himself sometimes. Today, on the training mat; well, that was certainly no exception.

He grunts as he fucks his long cock into you, his gaze fixated on your bared breasts as they bounce with each minstration. His mouth drops open slightly, a few brown curls falling to his tanned forehead.

You suck, bringing his attention back to your lips. He retracts his finger, and you immediately open your mouth and stick your tongue out flat.

Immediately he groans as his bottom lip catches between his teeth; you knew that move would get him.

“So fucking hot, baby,” he praises, his fingers lovingly tracing along your jawline as his thrusts grow sloppy. You reach down, your fingers playing with your cliff as he nears the edge of release.

“Gods… you’re… oh fuck,” he sighs, watching your stomach muscles tighten with the added friction. The coil, red hot inside you, threatens to snap.

“Bodhi… you’re gonna make me cum,” you whine, gazing up at him with your big doe-eyes. He grunts in pleasure, wrapping his hands around your thighs as he thrusts into you a few final times.

He gasps, his cock twitching against your velvety walls as he releases his cum inside of you. This was the final push you’d needed, as you clench around him, milking his dick for all he’s got.

You cry out in pleasure, slightly trembling as your orgasm rolls through you. He pants, his fingers tracing up and down your thighs as he watches you come down from your high. Only catching your breath for a moment, he pulls out — the sudden emptiness bringing a pout to your lips.

He leans over, kissing your lips with all the love he has for you. When he pulls back, you can only grin at him. Your boyfriend— only yours.

“You just remember that next time another guy sets his sights on you.”

✧･ﾟ: *

[chosove]

Like a Friend | g.s

synopsis. Gojo fell in love with Utahime’s stepsister the second he saw her. Unfortunately for him, you were taken. You were also about 3 years older than him. It wasn’t fairing well for Gojo since you’d always see him as the awkward kid you grew up with.

warnings. Literally none LOL I think this is cute but let me know😼 I think some parts are suggestive but other than that I fink it’s good?!

an. Um this is my first time writing like a proper fic…bare with me🥲 let me know if u like it…if not don’t tell me dawg. if this is liked I will make more parts

wc. 2k-ish

Satoru still remembers the first time he saw you.

Or rather, the first time you saw him.

He was standing on your front lawn with Utahime in front of him, a hand of his reaching behind her head to slip her hair from the accessory she held it in. He’d just arrived home after his first day of junior high school, deciding to blow off some steam upon seeing his favorite upperclassman.

“Give it back, Gojo!” Utahime shrieked, one hand gripping the hair now hanging down her shoulders after being freed from the bow she’d tied it into.

Satoru smirked as he continued to bounce the accessory above the older girl's head, laughing at her attempts to reach the ribbon.

“Aw c’mon ‘hime, ya gonna cry?” He taunted, delighting in the cherry red color her cheeks were painted with, her face contorting into pure rage.

“This is not how you treat those who are older than you!” Utahime shouted at him, now lunging towards his neck with her arms stretched out as he held her back with a hand on her forehead.

Before he could come up with a quick retort, he heard a voice speak behind him.

“Hmmm? And what would you know about respect, Utahime?”

Gojo lost focus when he turned towards the source of the sweet sound, heat rising to his cheeks as he made eye contact with the girl he identified as Utahime’s new stepsister (like really new. like, ‘6 months ago’ new. not that he kept tabs on Utahime- he’d just remember if he saw a pretty girl). Using his state of awe to her advantage, Utahime kicked at Satoru’s knees, knocking him to the ground before landing on him with a grunt and pulling her ribbon from his hands.

“First of all, you’re only like a year older than me. Second, do NOT group me in with him.“ she grimaced as she spoke the last word, a disgusted nudge of her chin towards the man on the ground.

You scoffed at her remark, finally looking towards the eyes that were burning a hole into you. “whatever you say ‘hime.“

Gojo blushed fiercely as you continued to make eye contact with him while saying the same things he did. “Doesn't really seem like you two hate each other right now…I’d go as far as saying I see a spark.”

Realizing the position he was in, he quickly shoved Utahime off of his body, ignoring the grunt that left her as she fell onto her back.

“Ew!” Gojo shouted, turning to you once he’d gotten up. “S-she wishes she were my type, as if.”

Did he just stutter?

Sure, he was a loser that loved digimon and unexplained physics problems, but usually he was the one to make people stutter. Even if he used too much axe body spray and had the odd pimple or ten- he was undeniably beautiful.

You smirked at his shy demeanor, a drastic change from the boy who had just been tormenting your younger sister in a way you thought only yourself capable of.

You turned once again towards Utahime. “You coming for dinner or you just gonna play with your boyfriend all night?” your voice teased, giggling at the anger emanating from your younger sister.

Glancing away after seeing her nod, you made eye contact with the young man in front of you- his intense gaze scanning all your features as if to memorize them.

“You’re really good at getting on her nerves y’know. She talks about how much she hates you like, all the time.”

You leaned in towards his ear before continuing. “Don't worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Before he could emphasize that they really were just friends (even if Utahime says the opposite), you were skipping off to the door of your house.

It was that day he fell for you.

-

It wasn’t until about…eight years later Satoru realized he was not gonna get over you. He also realized after all these years, that maybe he wasn’t that normal about his crushes. Not in the “I’m sooo crazy, I found her moms facebook!” way- no, it was much worse.

“Listen Satoru, y’know I’m gonna support your weird shit like you do mine” Suguru sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as they continued walking deeper into the Victoria’s Secret you worked at. “But isn’t this kinda…too much? How do you even know she’s working today? Or wait, how do you even know she works here?”

Satoru rolled his eyes as if his best friend had just asked the most obvious question. “I looked at her schedule? Duh?” he scoffed, pausing to look at a matching set he just knew you’d look perfect in. Did you own anything from here? Were you required to wear this kinda stuff since it was your job? Your whole wardrobe was probably filled with lacy sets that would just be so easy to rip-

“Dude,” Suguru spoke while waving his hand in front of Satoru’s face. “I’m gonna ignore the borderline stalker shit you just said, plus the fact you’re gonna cream your pants while touching some discount thongs, but why would she even talk to the creepy guys from her neighborhood?”

Suguru had endured every awkward stage Satoru went through- mostly because he was right next to him for it all. From their secret obsession with soap operas and cheesy rom-coms, all the way to those nights of stealing their parents alcohol which would end with Satoru crying as he wondered why you wouldn’t like him back- Suguru stayed.

Unfortunately for Satoru, the boyish charm of this crush wore off when Satoru started doing lowkey scary shit like finding out where and when you worked, for example.

Gently setting down the lingerie he had made a mental note to buy as a first date gift for you (he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, you were gonna be head over heels in no time), he shook his head at his best friend.

“Suguru, Suguru, Suguru” he sighed, placing his hands on his friends shoulders in exasperation. “Obviously you know nothing about love- first of all” Satoru began, puffing his chest out to signal he had no shame over his crush-turned-obsession. “Girls love surprises and grand gestures. This is like, two in one. Second, I didn’t STALK. I mean sure, I did beg Utahime to use the washroom since I ‘conveniently lost my key’ just to get into their house…but thats like, cute.”

Satoru was glad to finally put an end to Suguru’s disapproval when he saw his friend's mouth agape, proud of his actions which were 100% reasonable to him. It wasn’t until he felt a soft hand snake around his shoulders that he realized Suguru still thought he was psycho, it was just the person he was psycho about that made Suguru’s jaw drop.

“Moving this fast with our little ‘hime, hm?”

Snapping back, Satoru flushed deeply at your implication, also wondering how much you’d just heard.

“N-no way!” Gojo nearly shouted, hands desperately waving in front of him to indicate that the only person he’d ever consider in Utahime’s family was you.

You giggled at his wide eyes as you shoved his shoulder, the melody of your laughter becoming his new favourite sound. “I’m kidding ‘toru,”

Oh.

Oh God.

He really was gonna cream his pants- would it be weird if he called you a nickname too? He had so many he wanted to try out, plus he had the practice to back it up- he spent so many nights trying out the different pet names he could call you while he thought of caressing your body, the sound of your voice crying toru toru toru ringing in his ears as he-

“I’m assuming you’re here for a girl though, yeah?” you questioned, watching as the boy behind him shoved Gojo forward. He got so lost in his thoughts that he forgot the main topic of all his wet dreams was right in front of him.

Awaiting his nod of confirmation, you reached across him to grab a light blue pair of lingerie, body pressed against his while you dug through the bins of lace behind him.

He’d be more excited over the color and the fact it matched his eyes if it weren’t for the fact he could feel your tits pressed right against him.

Would it be wrong if he took a peak? Maybe he could pretend to fall and ‘accidentally’ land face first into your chest.

“This one’s my boyfriend's favorite.” you sighed dreamily, fingers running against the frilly edges while you reminisced on what he assumed to be very mediocre nights with your boyfriend.

Huh.

“Looks good on, but even better off” you spoke, outlining the pretty floral details detailing the set. You leaned in to speak in his ear, “plus, it’s super easy to remove, if you get what I mean.” finishing with a wink.

He gulped and nodded at your (far too extensive in his opinion) knowledge.

“S-sounds good, can you ring me up?” Satoru asked, grabbing the set from your hands and racing to the register.

You and Suguru both stared at his broad back nearly falling on his way to the checkout, a curious smirk forming on your lips before you strolled over to the counter. It felt weird seeing the little kids next door grow into…men. Of course Satoru was buying lingerie- he’d grown so handsomely into his lanky feature, now filling out the shirts that you swore were baggy on him just a few years ago.

You carefully scanned the set, folding it oh so prettily before placing it in the sleek black bag, finishing the purchase with a hot pink tissue paper to cushion the bag. Satoru watched your hands methodically do this process as his mind went a hundred miles a minute.

No, Satoru didn’t know what size it was.

Yes, he was devastated at the fact you had some sleazy, lowlife boyfriend (who wasn’t him).

Yes, he was painfully hard from your proximity and suggestive language.

As far as priorities go for him, his goal right now was to successfully make it out of here without you seeing the heartbreak on his face or the fact he got a boner after being near you for like 5 minutes.

It felt like years before you finally passed him the card machine, beginning to speak but quickly being cut off as a beep! rang out and the bag was ripped from your hands. “Did you need a recei-“

“NO THANKS GOTTA GO SEEYOULATERMAYBETHANKSBYETHANKS” Satoru shouted, crumpling the package in his hands and speeding out the doors to his car, Suguru on his tail.

It wasn’t until he was out of the mall that he finally took a breath, the realization that fuck, he actually didn’t have a chance with you? really hitting him.

Yeah, he was a creep who sometimes stared with his mouth open for a bit too long when you would ask him something. And okay sure you saw his awkward phase with braces, then the lisp he had from retainers, then braces again because he didn’t wear his retainers- but still, he was attractive enough right?

Preparing for a scolding from Suguru for almost leaving him behind, Satoru didn’t hide the heartbreak written across his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry man…There’s so many girls who’d die to get a chance with you, don’t worry” Suguru comforted, patting his friends back as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

mumbling something to the floor of the car, Satoru groaned loudly before finally picking his head up. “Not worried. just annoyed. Gonna be harder now.” Satoru whined, closing his eyes as he recalled the way you bit your lip and squeezed his arms. Was he imagining it or did you need him just as bad?

Hearing no clever retort from his friend, Satoru turned his head to find Suguru with pure confusion etched on his features.

“Fuck it. Never let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband, right?” Satoru spoke, key turning in the ignition as he was filled with a new dedication.

One way or another, Satoru was going to make you see how good you two would be together.

Preferably an easy way where you confessed your love to him first so he didn’t have to fold, but somehow nonetheless.

[cod-indulgences]

How do you think Simon or Kyle would react to user having like a really puffy petticoat/ puff skirt?

They're extremely soft and it's amazing wearing them + you don't have to worry about like, accidentally showing anything since there are so many ruffles? (They're also adorable with movement?? Twirling makes them puff up kinda and it's all fluffy cloud and cloth, jumping too)

(I asked this to someone else but just decided to bite the bullet here-)

Simon Riley x female!reader, exhibitionism, dubcon, fucking in public, but they're the only ones who know- right?, slight humiliation/degradation

It's not a costume, it's cosplay, you insist, but Simon isn't really listening. Simon would be playing with the ruffles even as he insists he's not. Flipping the edges and running the lace edges between his fingers. No he's not messing with your skirt, he's just getting some dirt off. There was a bug. He's just checking it's sitting right, you put so much effort into your outfit love, just try'na help.

It's only when he lifts you up to get a kiss and realizes how deep the skirt goes that his brain turns over. Both hands on your ass and he's in ruffles up to his elbows, you can't see a goddamn thing through it, and it hits him that he could split you open on his cock and no one would know.

He hauls you into his lap, nuzzling your throat as you giggle and scold him about PDA, and sneaks a hand up to your pussy beneath the skirt. You can't get up off him easily, and he's got those strong fingers rubbing over your clit through your panties, fuck why did you decide to go all in with your outfit and pick the lacey lingerie?? Now it's dragging and scratching your clit, plumping you up, and Simon grins because he knows he's got you. Poor sweet thing, getting all stupid even before his cock is in you.

You try and balk when he pulls his dick out and rubs the wet head against your hole. Panties pulled to the side, your legs open over his lap, Simon, someone will see!

See you crying on my cock, he says in your ear, and tugs your face down into his shoulder to muffle your shout as he lifts you up and all the way down. Just a sweet thing on her man's lap, nothing happening here, and he hitches his hips up in little grinding thrusts that make you moan and whimper. He can feel you drooling on his balls, and whispers how cute you are dressed like this, how easy you made it for him to just get his cock in you, right here where all the people are milling around, taking photos, maybe looking over to see what's going on with that couple in the corner, the big man holding his girl in his lap. How sweet, how innocent.

Would they still call you innocent if they knew how hard you're coming just from warming my cock?

Simon holds you and rubs your back through the shuddering and clenching, letting your cunt squeeze and fuck down onto him, the thick pile of skirts around your hips and thighs rustling only a little. Amazing, and he reminds you to keep your voice down as he starts bouncing you up and down, sneaking a hand up to grope your tits though your top, tugging a nipple out so he can pinch it.

You're so blissed out you barely manage a protest, but he pins you under his arm like he's embracing you. Shush lovie, let me use this little pussy and I'll get you back on your feet. I'm so close already, you feel so good, hot and tight, and your pussy clamps down as Simon shoves his cock so deep it aches, biting on your shoulder to muffle himself.

When he pulls out you whimper at the slick mess over your thighs, sticking the inner layer of your skirts to your skin, panties twisted up and soaked through. Simon just laughs and tucks his cock away, setting you on your feet with a kiss. Next time you wear this, don't bother with the panties, he says, and tugs your top back into place as a camera shutter flashes.

[iwaasfairy]

pls the way I was just casually playing lads and then got fucking blindsided by caleb and the absolute cest horniness that overtook me I can’t escape the huge strong devoted big bro that can’t live or breathe if he doesn’t have his cute lil sis carnally

tw yandere caleb, possessiveness, blood, a lot of niichan calling, siscon, I hc that reader calls him Mahiru growing up n Caleb when he leaves for uni and DAA so I use Mahiru here

It’s all too easy to feel like a big shot when neighbourhood kids flock around you. The swingset still glitters with dangling raindrops after the downpour, and laughter and childish discussion echoes the playground for a whole block between the raised skyscrapers.

“He’s coming again,” Nene giggles under her breath, air blowing through the hole where a tooth sat a few weeks ago, and her ponytail bounces. She hoists herself back onto the monkey bars while looking your way. Some of the other girls chat among themselves, and though they pretend not to look, even at age nine they seem to know. You hear your name fall between giggles.

It’s quick.

“Hey.” A rounded pebble hits your spine, and you turn.

The taller boy, stout, with soft freckles and a bit of a mean look stands before you for the nth time this afternoon. His words won’t make it clear, but he can’t seem to leave you alone. You place your hands on your hips, and sneer at him. “What do you want, Asher…” Gran told you he’s going through a phase, to be gentle. Niichan told you to punch him between his eyes next time he gets on your case.

You’re not sure you can do either of those. Asher’s eyes flick around as he shuffles a bit closer, under the eyes of some of the other boys— and a dusty rose tints his cheeks. “We’re gonna play house now. Since you’re not busy, you gotta play the mom.” He mirrors your pose, and his hands land on his hips. “I’m the dad, and they’re the kids.”

—Nene giggles from her elevated position, before yelling something out. “We don’t wanna play with you, Asher! You only play rough, and girls don’t like that.” Her smile is so wide that it’s almost Cheshire. “And besides, you should ask a girl. Not just order her around. Right?”

Right. You don’t say it, but your eyes stay on the boy as his face gets brighter, and he starts fidgeting with his clothes. “I’m playing with my friends,” you end up saying, as Asher steps into your space, and his rough hand grabs onto your wrist to yank you his way. That, and Mahiru nii is running around with his own friends somewhere. He already told you not to engage. It wouldn’t end well even if you ended up playing nice.

The blond’s basically sunset pink in the face, and though he’s holding onto you, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle. “Just play with me- with all of us. Don’t be like that.” He stares down his nose at your defiant eyes, and raises his nose. “If you don’t I’ll pick you up and throw you in there.” The sandpit. Rude.

“My brother will punch you if you do,” you snap back, as you pull your hand back. He doesn’t let go though, hand now trapped between your arm and chest.

“Just leave her alone, Asher.” One of the other girls chants from behind you. The longer he holds your arm, the hotter your face grows. Then one of them lets out a laugh. “We know you wanna play with her because you like her.”

The change on his face happens in slow motion. His eyes flick wildly over your face like he can’t settle them anywhere without more embarrassment, so he lets go of you as if burned. “I wouldn’t ever like you! You girls are all annoying, I was just joking around!”

“Asher’s in love!” Nene squeals out over the whole yard, and he gets a look in his eye that tells you to get out of the way. 

“Shut up, Nene! I’m not! I’m not in love with her at all.” You go to run back to your friends as they all squeal and chatter, and the muted blond grabs one of your pigtails to yank you back, hard.

You land on the floor, dirt and sand on your hands— and tears spring up in your eyes. But before you can cry out as you look back up at him, a larger body’s already flung him to the ground and gets on top of him to pound a fist right onto his brow.

It’s harder than you landed. You’re pretty sure it’s much harder than is needed, too. The sharp thud is followed by another, and another, as the playground goes quiet. You can’t even see the boy who hurt you under Mahiru’s bigger form— older, stronger, he’s already started to grow up while Asher definitely has not. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and the tears clog up your throat.

Only when one of the older kids who’ve joined from the street pull Mahiru back by his collar, does the assault stop. “Hiru, I think- that’s enough.” Mahiru’s heavy breathing makes way from the soft puffs of breath coming from the younger boy, who’s bloodied face starts bruising an angry red almost instantly, and gasps and hisses sound out.

He’s flattened to the grass with no movement. 

The pained looks come from the older boys most of all, as they straighten your niichan up. When he turns to you, he’s stuck between chewing you out and putting on a smile. He kneels before you to take your hands in his. “Told ya’ to punch him between the eyes next time he tries to talk to you.” The chastising tone doesn’t fit the mood that’s overtaken the playground. But he doesn’t hesitate to brush a thumb along your cheek. “Are you not too badly hurt? C’mere, let niichan see.”

His knuckles are split and bloody as he cups your small hands in his, and starts dutifully dusting them off for you— as his friends only grimace. Your shock doesn’t fade when he hoists you up under your armpits, nor when he pulls you into his chest to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Think you’ve had enough fun for today, ‘mouto.”

He smiles brightly to the young girls frozen on the swing, then at his own friends. “I’m going to take this one home first. We can hang out again later!” That’s that, before he picks you up and puts you onto his hip without another word, and your shaking hands are forced to link around his neck. “Don’t space out. Let’s go.”

…

The streets even out into less busy districts as he walks, lets you rest your head into the crook of his neck, your breaths evening out. You’re not sure what to say, only that it’s gone quiet since all the prying eyes followed you both down the block.

“Will Asher die?” you end up asking, and Mahiru’s steady breathing only breaks for a slight exhale through his nose, before continuing.

“Bad kids don’t die so easy.” His brows furrow ever so slightly, before he turns his face to yours so that his cheek is against your nose. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more worried about yourself?”

His dark head of hair rubs against yours with how close you two remain, until your lack of answer makes him continue. The swaying of your legs as he walks is easy, and it’s this that makes your tummy feel a bit queasy. You don’t have a scratch on you. Mahiru always makes sure of that. Your lips purse, and you tense against him. “He’s my friend. The girls were teasing him, that’s why he did that.”

Big brother stops walking. His long arms move from the small of your back where he’s holding you against him to your thigh, and he looks at you. Now nose to nose, heat climbing onto your cheeks. You’ve always been close, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still make you nervous. Mahiru doesn’t seem to get nervous for anything. His eyes sink deep into yours as he talks. “I don’t like your friends then. They put their hands on you and pull you and touch you. You think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

He lowers his eyes to your throat, then leans into you. Mouth to your neck, it tickles. “I was pissed at him because I know what he wants. Soon enough they’ll start asking you to kiss.” You can’t help it, you flush. Heat travels to your nose and cheeks and ears, and of course, Mahiru notices.

“What’s that reaction?”

“Nothing! I don’t have a reaction.”

The shades of brown and purple in his irises get a darker tint as he lets out an unamused noise. The tension makes you all jittery and weird feeling, and you start struggling a little to stay in his hold. “You’re my sweet, innocent little imouto. You’re not kissing people yet, right?”

“I’m not kissing anyone, niichan! Only you.” The silence is filled with your breathing. “Even if they ask, I'm not going to do it.” His dark brows are laced together so tight it looks like it hurts, and it only takes a moment for you to lean in and give a polite peck on his cheek. He doesn’t relax until you make an exaggerated ‘mwuah’ sound and press your lips longer against his ear, nuzzling into his cheek. “Don’t be so mad, you protected me, right? I’m okay thanks to you, niichan. Love you.”

You hop off his hip to stare up at him, and take his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. “Let’s just go home, nii nii? You were right, I’m tired.” And something still plays in his eyes, but when you pull he follows. That’s enough for now. You don’t want to get Hiru nii in trouble. He’s just protective.

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[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!!

[fandomnerd9602]

New Jeep (🌶️)

Wolf!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

The old jeep went out with a sputter. It had served you and Natasha so well. From high school to the start of your relationship with your wolf hybrid best friend.

It was a sad day when the jeep sputtered and died.

Tony was more than happy to pay for a new one for you. He went out and drove back with the best top of the line jeep for you.

“Tony,” you chuckled, “you didnt have to.”

“Kinda did,” he shrugged, “I’m protecting my investment in your organization or something like that”

You and Natasha were simply in awe of the new Jeep. It had better suspension, a better engine and of course that new car smell.

Natasha’s tail swished playfully, “wanna take it for a test drive, my hunter?”

You held the keys up and gave her a wink.

You spent a good half an hour doing donuts in the open fields near the sanctuary. Natasha was screaming with delight, her tail swishing happily as the Jeep continued going in circles.

Your adrenaline was pumping and so was your mate’s. In truth, Natasha was still in the midst of her heat cycle. The adrenaline, the rush of going fast speeds and doing donuts was only adding fuel to the fire in her core.

She looked at you, a certain mischievous look crossed over her lips.

You pulled the Jeep into your garage and closed the garage door. You unbuckled your seatbelt and Natasha unbuckled hers.

You tried to reach for the driver side door when your wolf grabbed your hand.

“Not yet” she purred, looking at you with a seductive smile, her voice dripping with desire like honey.

“N-Natasha?” You tried to formulate as her hands went to your pants.

“We still need to christen the new jeep.” She nibbled on your ear, her tail swished back and forth like a metronome; silently beckoning you, hypnotizing you.

“Naughty wolf” your own hands moving to her hips.

“I wanna test out the new suspension system, my hunter” her voice was husky.

“Back row?”

“Yes please”

The two of you couldn’t get to the back row fast enough it seemed. Natasha was practically tearing through your shirt, pulling it off you.

She guided your hands to her blouse, growling in your ear, “get this off!”

You practically tore it off her, a few buttons popped right off.

Natasha began grinding her hips into yours, rocking them into an all too familiar rhythm.

“Please,” she begged, whining in your ear, “I need you! I need my hunter!!”

You guide her khakis down and off her hips. “I’m all yours, my wolf” you gently whispered in her ear before kissing her pulse point.

Within minutes, the jeep was bouncing. The windows had fogged up. Natasha’s moans and cries intermixed with yours. Her nails dug into your shoulders lightly for support as she lifted her hips up only to bring them back down and grind into yours.

The all familiar howl of satisfaction rang out as Natasha came down from her high. It was the most glorious sound you ever heard.

Natasha nuzzled into your chest as she tried to even out her breathing. You and her shared a little proud laugh. Her tail swished slowly as you ran your hands tenderly over her bare body.

“Mmm,” she smiled at you, “I love the suspension on this Jeep.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “a couple more rounds like that and it just might need replacing”

Natasha looked up at you, smirking, “is that a challenge?”

Natasha Romanoff, your best friend, your mate, the love of your life. She just may be the death of you. Some day.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @julieromanoff @multi-fandom-enjoyer @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23 @redhoodte @iiconicsfan25 @idkwhatever580 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk

[rafesangelita]

bf!rafe x thick!reader.

i’ve been thinking about how reader is insecure about her thick thighs and ass so rafe fucks her dumb in the mirror forcing her to look at herself as he says how perfect she is <3

warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, mirror sex, mentions of body image issues and insecurities, body worship, praise, hair pulling, slapping, dirty talk, pregnancy kink (but rafe is serious about it??)

a/n: if you want to read more thick/bigger girl!reader, read this ‘thinking thot’ if you haven’t <3

“fucking look at yourself!” rafe grunted, wrapping a fist in your hair before forcing your head up to stare at your reflection. besides the obvious fact that you looked like a fucked-out mess, rafe wore a smirk that had you squeezing around him with a broken sob. “you’re so insecure and for what?” he landed a harsh smack to your ass, the loud sound making your cheeks heat, “if it wasn’t for this body i wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this..” you cried out when he let go of your hair and grabbed your hips, planting a foot on the mattress before drilling into you even deeper.

in this position he was easily nudging your cervix with every thrust, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as you struggled to keep your eyes on the full length mirror in front of you. “you make me so fucking mad when i hear you talk bad about yourself,” rafe said through gritted teeth, “saying you wish you looked better,” he scoffed, “..it doesn’t get better than this.” your knees nearly gave out from under you when he snaked a hand around your waist, his fingers working on your clit until you felt that familiar heat starting to simmer in your tummy.

“you’re so pretty, baby, it freaks me out sometimes,” rafe leaned down so his mouth was next to your ear, “you have no clue how many times throughout the day i have to resist the urge from bending you over and fucking you dumb— just like the way i am right now.” your eyes rolled back at his words, his praise shooting straight to your soaked cunt. “you make me hard without even doing anything, you know that? these curves are so fucking perfect, i could squeeze you and grab and rough you up just the way i want to. you drive me fucking crazy.” you weren’t only crying because of the way you were being pounded into right now, but because you knew rafe was coming from a place of genuine love.

you couldn’t help but feel insecure when you saw the kind of girls that always tried to get at your boyfriend, some even going as far as flashing you a wink when they stroked his arm while passing by. all of them looked flawless in your eyes, your insecurity creeping up on you and making you question why on earth rafe was even with you. questioning rafe’s devotion was exactly what got you in the position you were in right now. “look up, ‘pretty, i need you to see what i see.” he clasped a hand around the back of your neck, dragging you up so your back was flushed against his chest.

your body was on full display, your teary gaze meeting rafe’s as he fixed your head in place to make you look at yourself. “starting with this face,” he was still thrusting into you when he stroked your cheek, “i don’t think you’re real sometimes. especially when we wake up in the morning and the sun is hitting you just right..” he planted a kiss in the curve of your shoulder. “you don’t even know this but on the days i wake up earlier than you i just watch you. admire you.” you moaned when you felt him hit your sweet spot, your eyebrows knitting together as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“these tits,” rafe took both of his hands and cupped you, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers, “this is why i love it so much when you’re on top.” you laughed softly, a small smile playing on rafe’s lips as he continued rocking into you. you knew rafe wasn’t lying, he always looked hypnotized and dazed whenever you rode him, his eyes glued to your chest while you bounced on top of him. “these thighs are the same thighs that i always need my head in between. whether you’re sitting on my face or i have you pinned down on your back, i fucking love them.” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he began approaching his high.

“your hips and your waist..” your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he found your clit again, “you’re gonna carry my kids, i’ll make sure of that.” you gasped when he picked up his speed, his words hitting you right where you’d feel them most. “m’gonna make you have my babies, ‘give you even more reasons why you should love your body the same way i do. you understand?” you nodded frantically, turning your head so he could take you in a searing kiss. that was all it took for both of you to fall over the edge, rafe carefully laying you down on your tummy as he filled you up.

you two stayed like this, your kisses growing more feverish once he pulled out, rafe wasting no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. he traced the curve of your lips, thumbing away the tears from your eyes as you sighed. “i don’t ever want you to question the love that i have for you, do you understand?” you cozied up to him, whispering a ‘yes.’ before he hummed sleepily.

[valentine-cafe]

I have few more actually... my shame knows no bounds 🙂‍↕️ May I order tiramisu with fem (or afab gn reader): a scenario where Alessio teaches us how to kiss 👁️👄👁️ i love love LOVE corruption kink its so yummy

˖⁺. ﹙ enigmatic antihero mercenary x afab gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . can you kiss me more !! 🍒 :  antihero ˖ mercenary ˖ enigma character character  ﹙ verse 781 alessio. ﹚ 

you find that alessio agresta arias' lips will be the ones you kiss for the first time ever, and the same that will teach you how to kiss better. better not fall in love darling, or do, we'll see what happens, cw: heavy kissing, corruption kink

“Calma.”

The thrum of his voice adds to the ever rapid beat of your heart. Even with his large hand showing you comfort in the way it cups your face. Even with his thumb bearing a black painted nail pressed on your chin and stroking lightly.

“Keep blushin’ and breathin’ like that and you might just faint.” Alessio chuckles at your timid eyes bouncing between his lips but an inch away from yours and the pools of emerald that stare at you through half-lidded lashes.

“Al. . . ‘e-essio -” You whine softly as trembling fingers flex in the black leather of his jacket. You couldn’t believe that your first kiss was going to be with him. A delinquent. A name notorious across your university. A troublemaker. Probably the last person you should find your lips on and yet. . .

His are so inviting. Painted black and full, ready to pull the air from your lungs and flutter your heart to the heavens.

All he gives you is a croon. “Shhh.” As the callous of his thumb traces along your bottom lip. “Just press them together and come closer. Follow my lead. Do what feels right, querida.” His free hand littered in rings squeezes on your thigh and he pulls you even closer. If that was possible.

“Don’t worry about anything. Just focus on my lips baby.”

Despite your gulp and every fibre of your body crying from fluster, you move closer. Slowly, tenderly brush your lips on his and shudder when he closes the gap. Sparks fly from the collision. Like the meeting of stars. The kiss of frost on a sun ordained flower.

Alessio squeezes on your hip again. You add pressure just as you feel his mouth do. Your trembling hands don’t know what to do with themselves so you brace on his shoulders and whine at his little chuckle.

“There we go. . . that’s my girl.”

His muffled words against your lips have you pulling back with a blush blooming all over your face. He only snickers and curls his fingers into the mesh covering the balcony of the uni’s rooftop. “Doing great. . . now tilt your head a bit. Move with me.”

His lips are on yours again. Your head and back meet the mesh with a small shove from him. Your legs previously sat crossed now stumble over his hips from the abrupt change and you gasp into the heat of the kiss. All the bastard does is hum into your mouth and curl his fingers through the mesh.

Through your spinning mind you recall his words. Your head tilts and you attempt to follow. He’s kind enough to give you a few breaks. A second to catch your breath before he’s diving back in. Gripping and squeezes on your waist. Or cupping the back of your neck.

Even with your inexperience, you catch his movements and attempt to mimic them back. Enough to have him letting out a breathy laugh when he parts at last. Both of you panting and a dazed drunk from each other’s lips.

“Look at you . . . You’ll be a natural before you know it.” He flashes you a lazy grin and gives you another quick peck. All while you whine low and look to the sky. In clear disbelief that you just did that.

[ender-cloud]

Hyde and Lanyon are so silly guys i love them so much

Tgs spoilers under cut

Wooo another “sick” day with a TGS update this is my medicine

These two are so perfect for each other oh my god(im also a sucker for relationships where they make fun of each other sooo)

Lanyon knew that if he taunted Hyde he would be able to reach him and convince him because of how Hydes mind and Reputation works.

He has always said he’s the spirit of london at night, at the end of chapter 3 he claims that because he’s the spirit of London at night he has nothing to fear, Lanyon was playing those words so Hyde confidence back.

Lanyon and Hyde’s personalities are able to bounce off of each other which is what Hyde used to Piss Lanyon off initially, but now it’s used to help each other in this trying time.

But just because Lanyon is teasing him he isnt not caring, he’s just making a bad time a little lighter. “I’ll be right here when you get back” He cares so much for Hyde and Jekyll and he wants them both back and safe because he loves both sides, now he realizes that. He doesn’t want to chose one or the other, he might’ve felt in love with Hydes side first but he cares for both.

Even if Lanyon seems to care more about Hyde in this chapter it’s because Hyde is the part he’s talking to and it’s because he’s finding out all of this new information. He cares for both but when put with it he has one mind set currently which is making sure they’re ok.

At first, i was shocked that Hyde could just go into the mind scape but after thinking about it, it makes sense.

In a way this is what Jekyll did, or what Hyde and Jekyll do when they force the other to swap with them, but the reason why Hyde just went into it this time is because there was no one to swap with (supposedly)

Hyde isn’t positive if Jekyll has gone down the stair case but if him and Jekyll are as similar as he thinks then he did, we saw of course Jekyll floating down so we know but Hyde doesn’t.

He is relying in his own intuition and what he would do to get into the mind of Jekyll. He knows that Jekyll is more like him than Jekyll wants to think, the potion didn’t separate them in many ways.

Living in eachothers minds meant that at some point they shared thoughts, like how they both have a reputation they want to keep up.

Hyde is using his knowledge of how similar they are to scope out where he may be and he is going to use it in an attempt to save Jekyll as well.

[pinenutpbj]

Last Line(s) Tag

I was tagged by @soliloquy-dawn, thank you so so much 🤍

Here's a snippet from the final chapter of Almost in Love (RPF, Callum/Austin)

Austin turned to look at him, caught the way the sunlight perched on his eyelashes, turning them rose-gold at the edges. And this was where Callum went wrong, he thought. Where people always went wrong. Speaking of time as if it were a gentle, malleable thing. Believing time was a luxurious backdrop against which things could leisurely unfold.

But Austin had learned that time was more like a wild river, capable of washing away everything in its path. Each moment was precious not because it was guaranteed, but precisely because it was ephemeral. There were times when he wasn't sure what he wanted. But right now, he knew exactly what he desired. He would voluntarily step into something unknown, something that could either heal or break him completely. And somehow, that uncertainty felt like freedom.

Golo came bouncing back, dropping a muddy tennis ball in Austin's laps. The busy park faded in again, but something had shifted, settled into place.

"I think we should go back," Austin said.

"What?" Callum laughed. "Why?"

Austin just gave him a look. The blush that spread across Callum's face was answer enough.

They stopped at a corner shop on their way home. Well, Callum did the shopping while Austin waited outside, with Golo's leash wrapped around his wrist, the dog sitting obediently at his feet. He watched Callum as he moved with the familiarity of a local, maneuvering in the narrow aisles. Austin felt like a teenager on the cusp of something new and thrilling. The street was busy but no one was paying attention to him. 

They didn't say a word to each other. Their shoulders brushed occasionally as they navigated the crowded sidewalk. In the elevator, Austin stood with his back against the mirrored wall, watching Callum's reflection as he absently stroked Golo's head. When Callum caught his gaze in the mirror, Austin looked away. Their footsteps echoed in the hall, punctuated by the jingle of Golo's collar and the rustle of the shopping bag in Callum's hand. Austin's heart hammered as Callum fumbled with his keys, the metal scraping against the lock, something buoyant and sugary fluttering in his throat. The moment felt stretched thin, like honey dripping from a spoon, sweet and achingly slow.

No pressure tagging @joeyalohadream @carnevol @hogans-heroes, I just appreciate your amazing works 💕

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Unintended Acceptance Speech (Part 2)

@tomdayaloveforever this is the best I could do, I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

The night was buzzing as Marshall and you made your way down the red carpet at the next big awards show. You were dressed to the nines—elegant and understated—while Marshall, ever the reluctant fashion icon, had settled on a sleek black suit with a touch of his classic rebellious flair.

But as soon as you two hit the carpet, flashes exploded in your faces. Reporters clamored, eager for a glimpse of the elusive Eminem, the elusive legend.

“Em! Em! Over here!” One reporter waved eagerly, a mic in hand. Marshall gave a small nod in acknowledgment but kept walking. It was nothing new—he’d been in this game long enough to know how to navigate the circus.

Then, it happened.

Another reporter—who’d clearly been waiting for this moment—suddenly grinned, practically bouncing on their heels. “Eminem! Quick question: after your… flower park incident at the Brits, what are you expecting tonight? A more traditional acceptance speech, or should we expect some floral-inspired moments again?”

The second those words left their mouth, the crowd went silent. It was like a collective gasp filled the air.

Marshall froze mid-step. You could almost feel the weight of his frustration building, but before he could process it, another reporter jumped in. “Are you planning on taking Y/N to a rose garden tonight? I mean, could we see a new ‘Eminem and Flowers’ series?”

Marshall turned to you, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he gave you a look. You tried to keep your composure, but you couldn't help the giggle that escaped.

“Man,” he said, shaking his head and holding up a finger for emphasis. “Look, I wasn’t out there tryna’ start a trend. I went to a flower park with my wife, and somebody had to FaceTime me right then. That’s on them. Don’t blame me for the heart-shaped bushes.”

You let out a snicker, covering your mouth, but it only made Marshall roll his eyes even more dramatically.

“Hey, we all need a little flower power in our lives, right?” you teased, nudging him. “You were just living your best life.”

Marshall gave you a side-eye. “I swear, if this turns into my new ‘brand,’ we’re gonna have a serious talk about these flower-themed fan clubs popping up.” He shot a playful glare at the cameras. “I mean, come on. When I signed up to be a rapper, I didn’t think I’d be known for being the guy who loves flowers.”

The crowd burst into laughter, but before Marshall could take the next step, a reporter asked, “But seriously—does it feel like that moment changed how people see you, like, maybe it humanized you?”

Marshall blinked, clearly thrown off for a second. You could see his gears grinding, but then, he shot the reporter a knowing look.

“Humanized me? Man, I’ve been human. I’ve just been gruff about it for a minute. I still got bars, though. And flowers.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, making sure everyone knew he was fully aware of the absurdity of it all.

You chuckled, leaning into him. “To be fair, I think the flowers really did suit you. You were looking pretty peaceful out there.”

“Peaceful? I’m hardcore!” Marshall shot back, but his smile betrayed him. “At least now I know… no more FaceTime calls when I’m out flower-hunting.”

You winked. “I’ll take you to more parks, though. Just promise me no more heart-shaped bushes for the next big award show?”

He narrowed his eyes, sarcastically. “I promise. No more bushes. Or if I do, it’ll be some real hardcore, dark, Gothic bush.”

The reporters were cracking up, the tension gone. Marshall was, once again, being the real Marshall—fierce but with a sense of humor that no one could resist.

As the questions continued, one reporter couldn't help themselves. “So, when’s the next Eminem Rose Garden album coming out? Or are we getting some lavender-scented merch?”

Marshall groaned, rubbing his temples as you laughed beside him.

“I can already see the headlines tomorrow,” he muttered. “The ‘Eminem Flower Collection’ drops just in time for spring. Real tough guy vibes.” He shot a look at the cameras. “Y’all really want me to become a florist now?”

“No, but you’ve definitely made it interesting,” another reporter quipped, with a smirk.

As you and Marshall continued down the carpet, the laughter and the jokes followed. Somehow, the flower park moment had turned into a hilarious piece of pop culture history, one that Marshall would never live down. But at least, for once, he could take the absurdity in stride.

You leaned into him with a smile. “I guess ‘hardcore rapper with a soft side’ is gonna be your new tagline.”

Marshall glanced at you, his eyes softening, before he said, “I’ll take it, as long as it doesn’t come with a damn bouquet.”

You burst into laughter. “It’s a deal, babe.”