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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

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i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ logan (2017) - push and pull

chapter summary: After living in Mexico for one year to take care of Charles, a young girl enters your lives and brings about a new set of problems.

word count: 19.6k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: so this is a two parter, not a oneshot. this first part covers the logan movie, and the second part covers 'deadpool and wolverine'

anyways, i've always wanted to write a black widow!reader x logan fic and when thinking of how i was going to write the logan movie in this alternate universe, i realized i was finally given the chance!! so while she is a black widow, she still has her time manipulation mutation.

warnings/tags: canon to 'logan (2017)', logan and reader are married, black widow!reader, violence, blood, angst, character death

series masterlist - part 2

The women gathered their things and made their way out of the studio, their yoga mats under their arms and big bottle of water in their other hand.

One of the women, Theresa, stopped by you and spoke, “I- I think you have something on you. Blood? Or red paint?”

“Shit,” you muttered. “Where?”

Theresa pointed at your wrist, where a few small splatters of red lay. You murmured a thanks before adding, “our dog got into the paint last night. Took me hours to clean it off the floor. Thought I washed it all away in the shower.”

Theresa gave you a skeptical look but didn’t push further, instead giving you a polite smile. “Dogs can be such troublemakers, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s a handful,” you lied smoothly, returning the smile as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. “I’ll see you next week?”

Theresa nodded. “Of course. Have a good weekend, Y/N.”

“You too.” You watched her leave before exhaling, running a hand over your face. The blood on your wrist wasn’t from paint or any overly energetic dog. It was from the hit last night, the one Logan didn’t know about yet—and you weren’t exactly looking forward to that conversation.

As you walked out of the studio into the dry, hot air of El Paso, you couldn’t shake the knot in your stomach. You had wiped the blood off your hands and face last night, scrubbed until your skin felt raw, but somehow you’d missed the small spatters on your wrist.

He’s going to notice. He always notices.

You got into your car and drove past the border to make it to the place you called ‘home’. At least for now.

Logan’s beat up ’24 Chrysler was in front, and you noticed a few bullet marks on one side of the car door.

By the time you exited your car, lugging out your yoga mat and small bag, Logan stepped out of the smelting plant. His usual scowl was set in place, his sharp eyes scanning the area like he was expecting trouble.

When he saw you, his gaze softened just enough to be noticeable. “You’re late, darlin’. Class run long, or were you out savin’ the world again?”

You forced a laugh, locking your car. “Class ran over. Some of us have to work to keep this circus running.”

He narrowed his eyes, catching the hint of deflection. Logan could always tell when you were holding something back, but for now, he didn’t press. Instead, he jerked his head toward the plant. “Charles had a bad day. Might wanna check on him before he starts up again.”

“I will.” You adjusted the strap of your bag and walked toward him, stopping just short of the door. “You get any sleep last night?”

Logan snorted. “What do you think?”

“Figured not,” you said with a wry smile. “You should let me drive for a few shifts. Give you a break.”

“You know how I feel about that.” He crossed his arms, his tone making it clear the subject was closed.

You bit back a retort and nodded instead. “Alright, tough guy. I’ll go check on Charles.”

As you started to pass him, Logan reached out and gently caught your wrist. His thumb brushed over the faint red stain you’d missed. His grip tightened slightly, his voice dropping to a growl. “What the hell is this?”

“Paint,” you said quickly. “From class.”

“Bullshit.” His eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unyielding. “That’s not paint. That’s blood. Start talkin’, sweetheart.”

You sighed, pulling your wrist free. “It’s nothing, Logan. Just a small job—"

“A job?” He stepped closer, his voice rising. “You mean one of those jobs? Goddammit, Y/N, we talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it,” you snapped, meeting his glare with one of your own. “I don’t need your permission to take work. We need the money, and you know it.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. “There’s other ways to get money. Safer ways. Ways that don’t get you killed.”

“Like what?” you shot back. “Driving drunk assholes around all night? Scraping by, waiting for the next disaster? You think this life is safe? None of this is safe, Logan.”

“That doesn’t mean you throw yourself into danger for a damn paycheck,” he barked.

You flinched at his words, but you refused to back down. “It paid $3000, Logan. We both know that we need the money. Me working at the yoga studio and you drivin’ around isn’t enough.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, the lines on his face deeper than usual. He looked away for a moment, shaking his head. “Darlin’, $3000 ain’t worth your life. You know that.”

“My life wasn’t on the line,” you argued, your tone sharper than you intended. “It was simple. In and out. No complications.”

“No complications, huh?” He turned back to you, eyes dark with frustration. “Then what the hell’s that blood doin’ on your wrist?”

You let out a huff, crossing your arms. “It wasn’t mine.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Logan snapped. He stepped closer, his voice dropping into that gruff, almost pleading tone that always made your resolve waver. “You promised me you’d leave that shit behind. We’ve been through too much for you to keep riskin’ everything like this.”

“I didn’t promise you anything,” you shot back, holding his gaze. “I said I’d try. But look around, Logan. We’re barely holding it together. Charles needs his meds, Caliban’s sick, and your goddamn limo’s one flat tire away from falling apart. We can’t afford to play it safe anymore.”

Logan scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaling hard. “Damn it, Y/N. I’m tryin’ to keep you alive.”

“And I’m trying to keep us alive!” Your voice cracked, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “Do you think I want to do this? To go back to the shit I worked so hard to leave behind? But what choice do we have? You can’t carry this alone, Logan, and I won’t let you.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Logan’s shoulders slumped slightly, the fight draining out of him. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at you with a mix of anger and worry. “You don’t get it, do you?” he muttered. “Every time you walk out that door, I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you stood firm. “And you think I don’t feel the same every time you leave? I know what you’re doing out there, Logan. You think driving a limo’s any safer when half the people you pick up are armed or drunk off their asses?”

“That’s different,” he growled.

“How?” you challenged, stepping closer. “Because it’s you? Because you’re the one taking the risks instead of me? You’re not the only one who gets to decide what’s worth it.”

Logan clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw working as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he let out a bitter laugh. “You’re a damn pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But you love me anyway.”

He sighed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the anger simmering between you moments ago. “I do,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with this.”

You leaned into his touch, letting the moment stretch between you. “I know,” you murmured. “But I’m not okay with watching you tear yourself apart trying to keep everything together. We’re in this together, Logan. Like it or not.”

He huffed, his lips twitching in a reluctant smirk. “You’re stubborn as hell.”

“Takes one to know one,” you quipped, earning a low chuckle from him.

Logan dropped his hand, his gaze softening just enough to remind you of the man underneath all the rough edges. “You’re cleanin’ up, right?”

“Already did,” you said. “Missed a spot, obviously, but I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Next time,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’.”

“Not if you’re the death of me first,” you teased, though the words carried a bittersweet weight. You reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. “Imma go check on Charles. Then we can argue about this some more later.”

Logan squeezed your hand back before letting it go. “I have a job. I should only be gone for a few days. Then we should have enough for the Sunseeker.”

“Great,” you replied with a small smile, though your stomach twisted at his words. Jobs always meant danger—especially for him. “Just don’t take too long. You know how Charles gets.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, already turning toward the car. “You keep an eye on him while I’m gone, alright?”

“I always do,” you said softly, watching as he walked toward the beat-up Chrysler. His shoulders were hunched, weighed down by the years and everything they’d taken from him.

Before he got in, Logan paused, glancing back at you. “Darlin’... stay outta trouble while I’m gone.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m serious,” he grumbled, pointing a finger at you. “No more jobs. No more blood.”

“Fine, fine,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender. “No more jobs. Promise.”

Logan didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it go. He climbed into the Chrysler, the engine sputtering to life before roaring as he pulled away. You stood there for a moment, watching the dust settle before heading into the smelting plant.

---

You knew things were bad when in the morning Logan was already back. And even worse when after your morning shower, he rushed you and Charles into the Chrysler.

Charles kept going on about ‘the girl’ and ‘Laura’ while Logan tried to get out of the property, only to end up cornered from all ends with tens of military Jeeps, and men, surrounding you.

“Logan.” Charles said.

“Yeah, I’m thinking,” he responded.

“The child. Logan, we mustn’t forget Laura.”

“Please be quiet.”

“Logan.”

Logan’s eyes followed a man with a bionic hand, until he leaned against the open passenger window where you sat.

“Huh. Charles Xavier.”

“Where’s Caliban?” Logan questioned.

The man looked in the back, “America’s most wanted octogenarian.”

“I’m a nonagenarian, actually.” Charles replied.

You and Logan shared a quick look until he opened the car door, slamming one man, before closing the door. “Where’s Caliban?” Logan asked again.

The man walked around the car to in front of Logan, “why don’t you tell me where the girl is first? Or I could ask Cue Ball. He seems quite friendly.”

“I told you, she’s not here. Where’s Caliban, motherfucker?” Logan hissed.

“Well, I left him in the same ditch he was gonna leave me in.”

Logan grasped Caliban’s collar and raised a fist with his other hand, his claws sliding out with a growl as a few men pulled him back and slammed him against the car.

You finally opened the car door, slamming it into the nearest man, who stumbled back before hitting the ground. Without missing a beat, you kicked out the legs of another, his grunt of surprise cut short as he hit the dirt. You darted forward, sliding across the hood of the Chrysler in a fluid motion, your boot connecting with the head of a man Logan had just tossed aside.

“Damn it, Y/N!” Logan barked, his claws dripping red as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “I told you to stay in the car!”

“Yeah, well,” you shot back, landing lightly on your feet, “I don’t take orders well, kotik. Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

Before Logan could reply, another soldier lunged at him. He ducked, the man’s momentum sending him straight into your waiting fist. You followed with a knee to his gut, sending him sprawling. Logan spared you a glance, his frustration mixed with a reluctant flicker of admiration.

The fight raged on, chaotic and brutal, until you caught sight of a man aiming a rifle in Logan’s direction. Reacting instinctively, you shoved Logan out of the way just as the soldier swung his weapon toward you. Before you could react, a sharp, heavy blow struck the side of your head, and you crumpled to the ground with a grunt.

“Y/N!” Logan snarled, turning toward you, only to be met with the butt of a rifle to his face. The impact sent him staggering, his claws retracting as he fell to his knees. Another blow came, this time to his temple, dropping him fully to the ground beside you, before being turned onto his back.

The world spun, the sound of boots crunching against gravel and harsh voices blending into a dull roar. Through the haze, you heard a voice above you—mocking, taunting.

“Jesus, Wolverine,” Donald Pierce drawled as he stood over Logan, his bionic hand flexing with a metallic whine. “Seeing you like this just breaks my damn heart.”

Logan groaned, “as soon as I rip it out of your chest, fuck-stick.”

Pierce smirked, unfazed. “Cute.” Then, with a swift kick, he sent Logan’s face back into the dirt. He turned to the men surrounding the Chrysler, jerking his head toward the smelting plant. “Go get her.”

Her? You blinked through the pain, trying to focus. Laura. Charles had been talking about her—the girl. You struggled to move, but the sharp ache in your head made it feel impossible. Beside you, Logan let out a low growl, his hand twitching toward the claws that refused to come out fast enough.

“Stay down, sweetheart,” Logan muttered, his voice rough but laced with concern. “Don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

You shot him a glare, your lip curling despite the pounding in your skull. “Too late for that.”

---

Before one of the men could put the cuffs on Laura, Logan came behind and stabbed his claws through the man’s chest, before taking down the other two on Laura’s sides with two quick swipes.

Laura sat up and pulled the grappling arrow out of her chest, cutting the connecting string off before getting grabbed by two other men pulling her away.

Logan threw the man over his shoulder, the soldier hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Blood dripped from the bullet wound in his arm, but Logan didn’t slow down. His eyes darted toward Laura as she let out a feral scream, her small form writhing as two soldiers attempted to haul her away.

One man dropped her immediately, clutching his stomach where Logan’s claws had torn through. Laura took the opening, stabbing her foot claw into the other soldier’s shin. His scream echoed as she yanked the claw free, following up with a vicious kick to his jaw that sent him sprawling.

“Darlin’, get in the car!” Logan barked at you as he tore another soldier off his feet. The crunch of bones beneath his claws was drowned out by gunfire and shouts.

“Not a chance!” you shouted back, ducking behind a nearby Jeep to avoid a spray of bullets. Your head still pounded from earlier, but adrenaline pushed the pain aside. You grabbed a tire iron from the Jeep, spun out from cover, and swung it into the ribs of the nearest soldier. He crumpled with a groan, and you turned just in time to dodge another attacker’s baton.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, sweetheart!” Logan growled, swiping at a soldier who had tried to sneak up on him.

You rolled your eyes, blocking the next blow with the tire iron. “Like you’re doing any better, kotik!”

Laura scrambled toward you, her face streaked with blood and dirt. “Get her in the car!” Logan yelled as he blocked another punch, his claws slicing upward in a clean, brutal motion.

“C’mere, kid,” you muttered, grabbing Laura’s arm and pulling her behind you. “We’ve got to—”

A metallic hand grabbed your shoulder, yanking you back with inhuman strength. You twisted, but Donald was already leering down at you. “Aren’t you a fiery one?” he sneered, tightening his grip. “Let’s see how well you fight without—”

“Wrong move, asshole,” you spat, slamming the tire iron into the side of his head. He staggered, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Logan took a glance at the Chrysler, where more soldiers surrounded the car and back at you, who used your widow bites and knocked two men down.

Yeah, you could handle yourself. For now.

He took off running to the car to protect Charles as you grabbed a gun from one of the men’s halter and shot him in the head with it.

Logan sprinted toward the Chrysler, dodging a flurry of bullets that ricocheted off the gravel and bounced harmlessly off the car's frame. A soldier rounded the hood, his rifle aimed squarely at Logan’s chest. Logan didn’t even slow down—his claws shot out with a slick metallic hiss, and in one fluid motion, he slashed upward, sending the man sprawling with a guttural scream.

Logan climbed into the driver’s seat as Charles spoke, “as I told you, Logan, she’s a mutant like you.”

He turned the key in the ignition, “hold on!”

“Very much like you.” Charles repeated quietly.

Logan slammed the Chrysler into gear, the wheels kicking up sand and gravel as he veered toward you and Laura. His jaw tightened when he saw Laura drive her claw through a man’s throat, her small frame twisting with lethal precision as she turned to tackle another soldier behind her.

You, bloodied but standing, slammed the butt of a stolen rifle into the face of a soldier charging at Laura, dropping him before he could grab her. You turned, wiping the back of your hand across your cheek, and saw the Chrysler barreling toward you.

“Finally,” you muttered, before ducking to avoid a wild swing from a soldier. Twisting, you landed a roundhouse kick to his chest, sending him sprawling.

“Y/N! Get the kid!” Logan barked through the open driver’s window.

“I’m working on it, Logan!” you shot back, grabbing Laura’s arm and pulling her closer. “Stay with me, kid,” you told her firmly, though you knew she didn’t need the reminder.

Logan slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt just a few feet from you and Laura. “Get in!”

Before you could respond, another soldier lunged toward you, his taser crackling. Laura reacted first, leaping onto the man with a feral snarl. Her claws tore through his chest, and he crumpled.

“Nice work, but we’re out of time,” you told Laura, dragging her toward the car.

Another burst of gunfire rang out, and you ducked, pulling Laura down with you. Logan growled, “get in the damn car, now!”

You didn’t hesitate this time, shoving Laura into the backseat and diving in after her. Logan punched the gas, and the Chrysler roared forward, kicking up another wave of dust that momentarily blinded the soldiers behind you.

“You need to go to the front, Lo.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching sight of the Jeeps closing in from behind. Gravel sprayed beneath the tires as he swerved to avoid a shallow ditch. “They’re blockin’ the front!” he snapped. “We’ll have to take the back road—”

His voice trailed off as you reached into the glove compartment, yanking it open. A shiny, compact pistol clattered into your hand, and you checked the chamber with practiced ease.

Logan shot you a sharp look, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “What the hell is that doin’ in there?”

“I have one everywhere,” you said casually, rolling down the passenger window.

“You what?” Logan barked, his tone somewhere between disbelief and frustration.

You gave him a quick glance, your lips twitching. “Relax, kotik. Old habits.”

“Old habits my ass,” he grumbled, but his hands tightened on the wheel as he made a sharp turn, heading back toward the front of the property.

At least six jeeps and four motorcycles closed in ahead of you, their headlights cutting through the swirling dust. Behind you, Charles muttered incoherently while Laura sat silently, her wide, intense eyes fixed on the chaos outside.

Logan growled, “Darlin’, you better be damn sure you know what you’re doin’ with that.”

“Don’t worry,” you replied, leaning halfway out the window to aim at one of the motorcycles. “I’m an excellent shot.”

The first bullet hit the lead bike’s front tire, sending the rider sprawling into the dirt. You barely had time to fire again before another bike swerved to avoid the crash, losing control and smashing into the side of a Jeep.

“Two down,” you muttered, reloading swiftly.

“Would you stay in the damn car?!” Logan growled, yanking the wheel hard to the left as another Jeep cut in front of you.

“I am in the car!” you shouted back, firing at a Jeep’s windshield. The bullet cracked the glass but didn’t stop the vehicle. “Mostly!”

“You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“Not if I kill them first!”

“Damn it, Y/N!”

Ahead, the tracks stretched out into the distance, but the flashing lights of an oncoming train appeared on the horizon.

“Logan!” you shouted, firing off another shot at a motorcycle creeping up on your side. The rider veered off course, crashing into a ditch.

“I see it!” Logan barked, slamming his foot on the gas. The Chrysler roared as it hurtled toward the crossing, the Jeeps closing in behind you.

The train’s horn blared, a deafening warning that seemed to echo in your chest.

“We’re not gonna make it!” you yelled.

“Hold on!” Logan growled, his teeth bared as he pushed the Chrysler to its limits.

The train bore down on the tracks, the massive steel engine a blur of motion.

Logan swerved to the left, narrowly avoiding another Jeep, and then back to the right. Gravel and dirt kicked up in a storm as the Chrysler rocketed over the tracks just seconds before the train thundered past.

The pursuing vehicles skidded to a halt, trapped on the other side.

Logan didn’t slow down, his focus locked on the road ahead.

You slumped back into your seat, your breath coming fast. “Nice driving, kotik.”

“Don’t start,” Logan muttered, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

In the backseat, Charles chuckled softly. “See, Logan? She’s a natural.”

Logan shot you a quick glare. “You’re both gonna be the death of me.”

You smirked, tucking the pistol into the waistband of your jeans. “Not today, honey. Not today.”

---

“My name is Gabriela Lopez. I am a nurse. And for 10 years, I worked for Transigen Research in Mexico City. Transigen is owned by an American company. What I am about to show you is illegal… in the U.S. and Canada. They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study. But, of course, that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here… and have never left. They have never seen the sun or the ocean… rain or snow… or any of God’s creatures. They have no birth certificates… no names… besides the ones we have given them. They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls. Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas… special seeds in bottles.”

“Birthday? No birth.”

“Maria. We do not dress them up for Halloween. We do not call them ‘baby’ or kiss boo-boos. Don’t think of them as children. Think of them as things… with patents and copyrights. Comprende?”

“Si, senor.”

“They thought we were too poor and stupid to understand. We’re poor, yes… but we are not stupid. This is business. They are making soldiers. Killers. These are babies of mutantes…”

The video abruptly cut off as the phone died. Logan tore off his glasses and looked out of the car at Laura, who was still riding the mechanical horse at the front of the gas station.

“North Dakota,” Charles stated. Logan hummed in response as Charles continued, “you took that woman’s money. You said you would take the child there.”

You glanced out the window, following Logan’s gaze as Laura grew angry as the machine stopped.

“What is she?” Logan asked.

“She’s your daughter, Logan. Alkali has your genetic code.” Charles answered.

“Not just mine,” Logan said, as he went to the car door and opened it.

“Logan…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t wanna hear about it anymore.”

“Logan…”

“Just stop.”

“I have to pee.”

Logan huffed before grabbing the wheelchair out of the trunk and helping Charles into it. You got out with your wallet, unlocking the fuel cap. “I’ll get gas, you handle him and Laura,” you spoke, as Logan responded with a nod and some grumbling.

---

Logan drove to Oklahoma City, where the bright, colorful lights of the city shone brightly. Laura woke up and moved to the window, peering at them.

“Is this where we’re hiding out?” Charles asked.

“We’re not hiding out.” Logan responded, “we’re gonna get a couple of hours’ sleep… clean up, get some new clothes, get a new ride and get outta here.”

He pulled the Chrysler in front of Harrah’s Hotel and Casino. Logan walked around the limo to the valet, “hey. Hey, keep it out front, all right?”

Logan quickly got Charles settled into his wheelchair as you followed behind Laura. The four of you walked in, you and Logan quickly booking a room with the money you earned from your latest job, before heading for the elevator.

On the way to the elevator, Laura stopped in front of a display window, looking the mannequin’s, but more particularly the clothes on the smaller one.

Logan pushed Charles to the elevator while you stopped behind Laura. You pushed Laura in the direction of the two men, calling out to Logan, “I’ll get some clothes. You guys head up.”

Laura looked up at you, her stolen sunglasses still over her eyes. “I’ll buy you the unicorn shirt. Go with them.” You said in Spanish.

For a moment, Laura didn’t budge, her expression unreadable behind the shades. Then, with a small huff that might have been reluctant agreement—or just annoyance—she turned and trailed after Logan. You waited until they entered the elevator before heading back to the display.

Inside the shop, you picked up the unicorn shirt Laura had been staring at, along with a few other items. You knew she wouldn’t say it, but something about her quiet intensity made you want to do these small things for her. Maybe it was because you saw pieces of Logan in her—the stubbornness, the silence, the weight of something unspoken.

Once the purchases were made, you headed back to the room.

---

When you walked in, Logan was already pulling off his shirt, tossing it onto the armchair with a tired grunt. Charles was settled on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV while Laura sat cross-legged on the bed, the sunglasses still on her face.

“Got you something,” you said, holding up the bag.

Laura tilted her head but didn’t move. You placed the bag on the bed and took out the unicorn shirt, unfolding it to show her. “See? Told you.”

She reached out slowly, taking it from your hands, her fingers brushing the fabric like she wasn’t sure what to do with it. After a moment, she clutched it to her chest, still silent.

“Not even a thank you, huh?” Logan muttered from across the room, pulling on a clean shirt.

“Logan,” you said warningly, shooting him a look.

“What?” he grumbled, but he didn’t push it further.

Laura hopped off the bed, clutching the shirt as she headed for the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her.

“She likes it,” Charles said with a faint smile, still watching the TV.

“She’d like it more if it had claws,” Logan muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.

You crossed the room, standing in front of him. “Not everything has to be sharp and deadly, kotik,” you teased, brushing your hand over his shoulder.

Logan glanced up at you, his features softening just slightly. “You spoil her already.”

“She deserves it,” you said simply. “And don’t start. You’re the softie between us.”

Logan snorted. “Yeah, sure. Real soft.”

You leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You are, whether you admit it or not.”

“Mm,” Logan grunted, but his hand found your waist, tugging you closer. “You done playin’ dress-up, sweetheart?”

“For now,” you replied, stepping back before he could pull you into his lap. “You should sleep. You’re running on fumes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Logan.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah.”

Charles turned off the TV, speaking up from his spot on the bed. “You two should rest. I’ll keep an eye on Laura.”

“You sure, Chuck?” Logan asked, his voice softer.

“I’m sure.”

You placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder, nodding toward the bed in the other room. “Come on.”

Logan grumbled but followed your lead, climbing onto the mattress beside you. You stretched out next to him, his arm slipping around your waist out of habit. He exhaled heavily, the weight of the past few days evident in every line of his body.

“Get some sleep, honey,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns along his arm.

His grip tightened slightly, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, quietly, he said, “You too, darlin’.”

---

You walked around the room, looking for bag of clothes you had bought the night before while Charles and Laura watched some old Western in the other room.

You found the bag and pulled out a plain black tank top before tilting your head when you heard Logan’s coughing from the bathroom.

Muttering to yourself in Russian you quickly pulled it over your head. Before you were able to pull it down all the way Logan finally came out of the bathroom, dressed in the new outfit you bought him last night.

Logan’s eyes flicked to the bruises scattered across your back as you pulled your tank top into place. The sharpness in his gaze softened into something like worry, though his tone stayed gruff.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.”

You glanced over your shoulder, puzzled at first, then followed his line of sight. The darkening marks along your ribs and lower back told the story. “Didn’t feel it,” you replied, tugging the tank top all the way down before grabbing your leather jacket off the bed. “Didn’t notice until now.”

“Bullshit,” Logan said, stepping closer. “You should’ve said something. What if it’s worse than bruises?”

You shrugged, slipping the jacket on. “If it was worse, I’d know by now. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” he echoed with a scoff, his voice rising. “You took hits out there, Y/N. You can’t just shake that off like you used to. You’re not healing—”

“Maybe I’d heal better if you weren’t drinking yourself half-dead every damn day.” You zipped up the jacket and turned to face him, your tone sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “This ain’t about me.”

“Isn’t it?” You folded your arms, meeting his glare head-on. “Your healing factor’s slowing down, Logan. You think I don’t notice how long it takes for those cuts to close? Or how you cough blood into the sink every morning?”

“That’s different,” he argued, his voice dropping to a growl.

“It’s not. You’re killing yourself, one bottle at a time, and you won’t even talk to me about it.”

His eyes narrowed, his temper simmering just below the surface. “I don’t need you to fix me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” you shot back. “I’m trying to keep you alive, but you’re too damn stubborn to let me.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier. His hands clenched at his sides as though he was fighting the urge to slam them into something—or pull you close and end the fight with a kiss. Instead, he opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Slaboumnyy,” you said sharply, your voice low but firm as you used the Russian nickname reserved for moments like this.

The word hung in the air, loaded with meaning. Logan’s expression shifted; the fight drained out of him, replaced by something like guilt.

You grabbed your hotel key and small purse off the nightstand, your movements brisk but controlled. “I’m going to get breakfast for Charles and Laura. You can fend for yourself.”

Before he could respond, you turned on your heel and walked out the door, letting it close behind you with a heavy thud.

---

The wait for breakfast was long, a bunch of drunk middle-aged men and women in front of you ordering copious amounts of greasy, unhealthy food.

When you finally got the food an hour later, you made your way back to the elevator, noticing a few men in black walking around the casino machines.

“Shit,” you muttered, as the elevator doors opened. You pressed the touch screen button for the 12th floor and hit the door close button, closing the doors in front of a group of tourists.

You got to the room and grabbed Laura from the bed, setting her down on the floor and putting Charles in his wheelchair. “Grab everything. We need to leave—”

A gunshot cut you off, just missing Charles’ head and hitting the window in front of him. One of the men aimed at Laura, and before he shot the trigger you threw yourself on top of her, the both of you falling to the ground.

As soon as the thud of your bodies reverberated through the room, a high pitch noise sounded out in your head, freezing the men in the room. Laura tried to move against the invisible barrier, crawling towards the syringes on the floor.

You were only able to pause time in the room. Every sound, every ripple in the air froze in place as the chaos stilled to an unnatural silence. The strain was immediate—like claws digging into your skull. You bit down on a scream, the raw pressure pressing against your mind making it hard to breathe.

Laura, mid-crawl toward the syringes, was frozen along with the attackers, her small form locked in place. Even Charles was still, though the effects of his seizure were evident in the strained lines of his face. Time had stopped, but you weren’t immune to its echoes. The vibrations of the seizure pulsed against your powers, like trying to hold back an ocean with a net.

Your body trembled as you pushed yourself to your feet. The men were frozen, guns raised, expressions twisted in mid-action. You moved through them, grabbing a discarded weapon from one man’s frozen grip. A quick check confirmed it was loaded. Good.

One by one, you moved swiftly and efficiently, just like your old training taught you. Your breathing was shallow, but your movements were precise—two shots to the head, then the next target. You didn’t have the time or energy to be anything but ruthless.

When the last man fell, you dropped the weapon with a shaky exhale. Your gaze landed on the syringes scattered across the floor near Charles. Each step toward them was a battle as your legs threatened to give out beneath you. The strain of holding the room in stasis was eating away at you, but you couldn’t let go—not yet.

Kneeling, you grabbed the nearest syringe and, with trembling hands, plunged it into Charles’ arm. The effect was immediate. The tension in the air shattered as Charles stilled, the seizure abating. Time snapped back into place like a rubber band, sending a ripple through your entire body.

Laura gasped audibly as she came back to awareness, blinking rapidly as she scrambled to her feet. Charles groaned, slumping in his wheelchair, his breathing labored but improving.

Your vision swam, and you swayed dangerously, your knees buckling. Before you could hit the floor, strong hands caught you, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“Darlin’,” Logan’s gruff voice was close, his tone sharp with concern. He turned you around, his hands framing your face as his gaze searched yours. “What the hell did you just do?”

“Stopped them,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “Stopped it.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he looked around the room, taking in the bodies of the attackers. He pulled you closer, his arms steady and grounding as he spoke low. “You’re shaking. You okay?”

You leaned into him, the warmth of his presence cutting through the fog of exhaustion. “I’m fine. Just… takes a lot out of me.”

Logan didn’t look convinced. His brow furrowed as he adjusted his grip, keeping you upright. “You shouldn’t push yourself like that.”

“They were going to kill us, kotik.” Your voice was firm, though your body betrayed your weakness as you sagged slightly against him. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Logan muttered a curse under his breath, his hand pressing lightly against your back, mindful of the bruises he’d noticed earlier. “You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” you shot back weakly, earning a faint smirk from him despite the tension.

“Yeah, yeah.” His smirk faded as his gaze flicked toward Laura and Charles, who were watching silently. “You two okay?”

Laura nodded, clutching her unicorn shirt like a shield. Charles gave a faint smile, though his face was pale.

You shook your head. “We’re not out of the woods yet. More will come.”

Logan’s expression darkened. “Let ‘em. I’ll handle it.”

“We need to leave,” you insisted, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. “Now.”

Logan nodded, his grip on you tightening briefly before he helped you to stand on your own. “Let’s get out of here.”

Laura moved to your side, her small hand brushing against yours. For once, her silence felt loud, but you gave her a reassuring nod. “I’m okay,” you told her softly, though the exhaustion in your voice betrayed the truth.

Logan grabbed Charles’ wheelchair, his protective instincts on high alert. “Let’s move.”

The four of you made your way to the hallway, Logan leading the way, his senses sharp as he checked for threats. As you walked, his hand found yours briefly, giving it a firm squeeze. You squeezed back, a silent acknowledgment that, for now, you were both still standing—and still fighting.

---

“Emergency personnel are still on scene at Harrah’s Casino Hotel in Oklahoma City… where at least 400 guests were stricken with temporary paralysis yesterday. Many are noting a similarity to the Westchester incident over a year ago… that left over 600 injured and took the lives of seven mutants, including several of the X-Men.”

Charles was drifting in and out of sleep as Laura stared out the window with her sunglasses on, locking and unlocking the door.

“Knock it off,” Logan said. Laura didn’t stop. “I said, knock it off!”

“She’s a child, Logan. And, point of fact, she’s your—”

Logan cut off Charles, “how long has it been since you took your meds?” Charles exhaled, turning his head. “Tell me, how long has it been?”

“I don’t know! Two days.”

“You saw what happened yesterday. If that shit had gone on any longer, everyone in that casino—”

This time Charles cut off Logan. “I did what I had to do to save Laura. And Y/N.”

“What?” You said quietly, rubbing your temples.

“You didn’t do anything. You just freaked out and had a fucking seizure!” Logan exclaimed.

“I guess you prefer me pharmaceutically castrated, rambling on like a lunatic. So much easier for you.”

“Easier? Jesus!” Logan scoffed, “there is nothing easy about you, Charles, nothing!”

“Yes, yes, please be like the rest of the world… blaming someone else for your boring shit.”

“I know, Pop, I’m such a giant disappointment.”

“Logan—” you tried to comment, before Charles continued.

“You honestly derive no sense of purpose from what we’re doing?”

Logan briefly looked in the back of the truck at Charles, “okay, what are we doing? Hmm?”

“There is a young mutant sitting in our car.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“And where we’re taking her, there are others. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Uh, yeah, means nothing to me. Especially since Nurse Gabriella made all that Eden shit up with fucking comic books.”

“What are you talking about?” Charles asked.

Logan gently moved your arm off the console, opening it and grabbing a bottle of pills.

“Give those to him.” He said, handing you the bottle.

Not feeling up to a fight you complied, shaking out two pills and handing them to Charles behind you with a sympathetic smile. Charles popped them in his mouth and washed it down with some of his bottled water.

“I wanna see it.” Logan commanded, looking back at Charles as he exaggeratedly stuck his tongue out. You put the pill bottle back into the console.

The truck fell into silence, until a semi-truck moved too close to your own truck.

“Motherfucking auto-trucks.” Logan said angrily.

“Language, Logan.” Charles chided. “And you’re screaming at a machine.”

Laura looked out her window to see a pick-up truck towing a horse trailer. “Oh, what? She can gut a man with her feet, she can’t hear a few naughty words, huh?” Logan replied.

“She can learn to be better.”

“You mean, better than me?” Logan questioned.

“Actually, yes.” Charles responded. “And, by the way, Laura’s foot claws are the obvious result of her gender, you know.”

“Is that a fact?”

“In a pride of lions, the female is both hunter and caregiver.” Charles continued.

“Good to know.” Logan said.

“She uses her front claws for hunting and the back claws defensively.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan said, speaking sarcastically again.

“Thus, ensuring their survival.” Charles finished.

Almost right after Charles finished speaking, an auto-truck honked and began to move over to the lane that your truck was in without looking. Logan swerved quickly, driving into oncoming traffic. Laura held onto Charles to keep him steady while you grabbed the handle on the roof. Logan turned the truck when he was clear, coming to a stop.

As the four of you got your breaths back, the truck pulling a horse trailer stopped across the road. Horses ran out of the trailer and a young boy and his parents got out, rushing to try and get the horses off the road.

“We should help them,” Charles suggested.

“No, we have to keep going. Someone will come along.” Logan said.

“Someone has come along.”

Logan looked over to you as you waved your hand and sighed, giving him an affirmative. Logan drove the truck across the road and parked the truck next to the other one. Charles rolled down the window and closed his eyes, while you and Logan got out of the car. The horses all walked back to the trailer and stopped. Logan looked back at Charles who opened his eyes.

Laura had quietly exited the truck, coming to stand by you as Logan spoke, “hey, uh, you need a hand?”

---

The group got the truck and connected trailer out of the ditch as the husband patted the front of the truck. “Ah. Good, got it. Come on, let’s get home.”

“Laura!” Logan called out. You stood by Laura as she pet one of the horses in the trailer.

“Thank you so much for your help. I’m Kathryn.” She put out her hand.

“James.” Logan said as he shook her hand.

“This is my son, Nate.”

“Hi.” Nate raised a hand.

“Hey.” Logan responded.

Kathryn looked back at Laura, “that your wife and daughter?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s our daughter Laura, and my wife Y/N. And my dad, Chuck.” Logan pointed at Charles in the truck who waved back. “Come on, Laura, let’s go.”

“Well, can we show our appreciation and treat the three of you to a decent meal? We don’t live far from here.” Kathryn asked kindly.

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“That would be lovely!” Charles answered.

---

“You wanna say grace? Say grace, baby?” Kathryn told Nate.

“Uh, thank you, God, for this food… and for our new friends the Howletts.” Nate began.

“Mmm. They came to our aid.” Kathryn cut in.

“Amen.” The family said.

Will, Kathryn’s husband and Nate’s father, handed a bowl to Charles. “Here we go. Here you go, Charles.”

“Thank you, sir.” He responded.

Laura started to eat, using her fingers to eat the mashed potatoes. Logan reached over and tapped her shoulder before showing her the fork next to her plate as she took it from his hands.

Charles then handed a bowl of corn to Laura, who used the large spoon to put two big spoonful’s on her plate as Logan took the bowl from her, waiting for her to put the spoon back in.

Kathryn, who was watching the interaction, looked at Logan, “oh, there’s plenty more if she wants.”

“She’s fine. Thank you.” Logan replied.

“This is delicious.” Charles said, as Laura shoveled corn into her mouth, Nate watching her with hesitant and curious eyes.

“Oh, thank you.” Kathryn responded.

“It’s so good.” Charles added.

“Where are you all headed?” Will asked.

“Uh… Oregon.” Logan answered as Charles answered with “South Dakota” at the same time.

“Well, Oregon and then South Dakota.” Charles explained.

“Vacation?” Kathryn questioned.

“Uh… yes. Uh, long overdue. We’re city folk. Always wanted to take a road trip, see the country.” Charles paused, gesturing to the family, “and meet the people in it.”

Logan raised a brow as Kathryn replied, “that sounds lovely. Been trying to get Will here to take a vacation for years now.”

“Oh. If we go traipsing all over the country, who’s gonna take care of this place?” Will responded.

“Exactly. I say, let it go.”

“And live off what?”

“The Lord will provide.”

“I’m still waiting for the Lord to provide me with a new thresher.” Will said, as Nate laughed.

“All the same, I’d love to travel someday.” Kathryn finished.

Charles pointed at her, “and I bet you will.”

Nate leaned back in his chair, “I could drop out of school.”

Kathryn looked at her son, “okay, let’s not go that far.”

“I mean, I’ll do it.”

“No. No.”

“Why not?”

“You wanna travel, I wanna travel.”

“Son. Son.”

“That sounds good to you, right?” Will cut in softly.

“This is the perfect plan.” Nate replied.

“Why would you want to do that, Nate?” Charles asked.

Logan looked over at Charles and gestured with his fork, “careful, you’re speaking to a man who ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?”

Charles hummed and nodded, “yes, it was a… it was a special needs school. Um…”

A small smile was on Logan’s face, “uh-huh. That’s a good description.”

Charles pointed at Logan briefly, “these two were there, too.”

Laura looked over at Logan, a small smile on her own face. “Oh, yeah, no. Um… I got kicked out a few times.”

Nate laughed as Charles continued, “I wish I could say you were a good pupil, but the words choke me.” They all laughed, Laura a silent laugh as she looked over at Logan. “Not that you were much better,” Charles added, looking at you.

You let out a small chuckle, “yeah, I was probably worse than Logan. Wasn’t the greatest student.”

The chatter continued until everyone was done. Logan stood up, “ma’am, I can’t thank you enough for this. Uh, it was great. But, we have a long drive ahead of us, so—”

“But you need to rest, don’t you?”

“Yeah, we’ll find a motel somewhere.”

“The nearest one is two hours from here and it’s not even that nice.” Will said.

“We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter and you and your wife can sleep in the living room on the convertible.”

“Kathryn, it’s very, very nice of you, but we really should go.”

“We can leave early in the morning.” Charles cut in. “Break of dawn, as it were.”

Logan looked over at you as you sighed and shrugged. At least the four of you wouldn’t have to sleep in the truck.

“Okay, why don’t we wash up, Pop?” Logan pushed Charles away to the bathroom.

“Um, do you two want some dessert?” Kathryn asked.

Laura looked up at you, almost as if asking for permission. “Go ahead,” you said in Spanish. Kathryn gave the two of you a plate as the water from the sink sputtered.

“Oh, shit!”

Logan came out from the bathroom where he and Charles just were “What’s going on?”

“Nate!” Will called out. “Go fill up the tub before we lose pressure. Honey, check the sink.”

“They shut it off again.” Kathryn said, as Logan watched Nate go into the bathroom.

“They are just not going to let this thing go.” Will commented.

“Well, you might as well handle it now.”

“It can wait till the morning. We just had rain last night.”

“We got four houseguests and a sink full of dishes.”

“All right, all right.” Will whispered to his wife, before looking over at Logan. “The pump stations that supplies us is a mile and a half from here. Sometimes it gets itself shut off.”

“By assholes.” Nate said, in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Hey!” Will reprimanded.

Laura lifted the pie dish lid as Logan came over to her, “no.”

“My son is happy to go with you.” Charles added.

Logan looked over at Charles as Will spoke, “no, no, no, that’s fine. The men that do this, sometimes they can be…”

“I can go.” Nate chimed in.

“No, you got homework.” Kathryn said.

“All right, I’ll go. Just, uh, let me get my dad settled.” Logan walked over to Charles in his wheelchair and picked him up, before making his way up the stairs to the spare bedroom.

You lead Laura by the shoulders up the stairs, following Logan and Charles. Laura turned her head to Nate’s room, his door cracked open. “Be good, muñeca.” You said in Spanish, as Laura looked up at you for a few moments, holding your gaze before entering his room.

When you walked into the room, Logan had already tucked Charles into bed. “Want TV? There’s TV here.” Logan questioned.

“I’m fine.” Charles answered.

“Okay. Get some rest.” Logan went to exit when Charles spoke. You watched, and listened, from the door.

“You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. A home, people who love each other. Safe place. You should take a moment and feel it.”

“Yeah. It’s great.” Logan walked closer to the door.

“Logan. Logan!” Logan turned around to face Charles, “you still have time.”

Logan sighed, “Charles, the world is not the same as it was. We’re taking a risk hanging around here, you know that. And where we’re going, Eden… it doesn’t exist. Her nurse got it from a comic book. You understand? It’s not real.”

“It is for Laura. It is for Laura.” Charles said.

“Get some rest.” Logan responded, walking over to you as he closed the door.

You crossed your arms, standing firm in the hallway. “I know you don’t believe in Eden, but—”

Logan cut you off, his voice low but edged with frustration. “Do you believe in it, darlin’? Really?”

You paused, meeting his tired eyes. He wanted you to say no, to back him up, to give him some sort of permission to stop running. But you couldn’t do that. Not when Laura’s life was at stake. “I don’t,” you admitted softly. “But if there’s even a chance that it exists, don’t we owe it to Laura to try?”

Logan exhaled sharply, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ve been chasin’ ghosts, sweetheart. That nurse believed in fairy tales, and now we’re followin’ a damn map from a comic book. It’s—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “It’s not real. You know it’s not.”

You stepped closer, your voice quieter but no less firm. “That video we saw... on her nurse’s phone. It reminded me of the Red Room.” You hesitated, your hands curling into fists as old memories clawed their way to the surface. “If Eden exists, it’s not just about being free from what they did to her. It’s about a place where she can finally feel safe. Like she belongs. It’s exactly the kind of place I would've dreamed of as a kid.”

Logan turned to you, his expression softening despite the frustration. “Darlin’—”

You reached out, placing a hand on his chest. “I know you don’t think it’s out there, kotik. But we’ve come this far. She’s a kid, Logan. She’s just a kid.” Your voice broke slightly. “Don’t we owe it to her to believe? Just for a little while?”

He let out another heavy sigh, his hand coming up to cover yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, the roughness of his skin grounding you. “I get it,” he muttered after a moment. “I do. But it doesn’t mean I’m not scared of what happens when we don’t find it. What do I tell her then?”

“You won’t have to,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because we’ll find it. And if we don’t, we’ll figure something out. Together.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes lingering on you. He looked torn between wanting to argue and wanting to believe you. After a moment, he just nodded. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good, you know that?”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “That’s why we work so well together.”

He huffed a soft laugh, pulling you into his arms. The embrace was brief, but it was enough to feel the weight he was carrying. When he pulled back, his hands lingered on your waist. “All right,” he said quietly. “But we leave at first light. No more detours.”

You nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “First light. Promise.”

Logan watched you for a moment longer before stepping away, muttering, “You better get some rest. It’s gonna be a long drive tomorrow.”

You smiled softly as he walked back down the hallway, his footsteps heavy but purposeful. Laura peeked out from Nate’s room, watching him go before turning to you. Her wide eyes held a mixture of curiosity and something softer—trust.

“Come on, muñeca,” you said, holding out your hand. “Let’s get you settled.”

She took your hand without hesitation, and as the two of you made your way back to the room, you couldn’t help but feel the faintest flicker of hope.

---

Kathryn set up the pull-out bed in the living room, letting you lay down while Logan was out helping Will with the water.

You knew you wouldn’t sleep, it was far too engrained in you to not sleep in a strange place, where anything, anyone, could be lurking around.

After some time, it couldn’t have been more than an hour, you heard familiar footsteps. But the closer they got to you, you started to realize that they were just a tad bit too heavy to be Logan’s.

You turned onto your back quickly, the blanket falling to your waist as you caught his wrist, the sharpened tip of his claws nearly grazing your chest. Your heart pounded as your mind registered what you were seeing—Logan. But not Logan. His features were wrong. Sharper. Colder. The dead look in his eyes made your stomach churn.

You moved to kick him, trying to dislodge his weight, but his other hand slammed into your stomach. Pain shot through you as his claws tore into your flesh. A strangled gasp escaped your lips as he twisted his wrist, retracting the blades before you could even react, and you hit the floor hard.

Blood spilled from your wound, warm and sticky against your trembling hands. Your vision blurred as you tried to sit up, but a cold wave of nausea overtook you.

Laura’s scream cut through the haze, sharp and furious, echoing from upstairs. The sound jolted you back to focus.

No. Not her. Not Charles.

Your fingers twitched, and you willed yourself to focus past the pain. The air around you shimmered faintly as you reached deep within yourself, finding the thread of time. Your powers resisted—your body already weakening—but you pushed through, rewinding the moment.

Agony gave way to an excruciating pressure, like a rubber band snapping back into place, as the wound began to heal itself. The blood receded, the pain dulled, and your breathing steadied. You gasped for air, drenched in sweat, your body trembling from the effort.

Your eyes darted to the stairs, a sense of urgency overpowering the exhaustion. Using the couch for leverage, you pulled yourself to your feet. You staggered slightly, clutching the armrest to steady yourself.

"Laura!" you called, your voice hoarse.

Another scream tore through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of claws clashing. You pushed yourself forward, each step heavy and unsteady, as you made your way toward the chaos.

You heard a gunshot and a scream from upstairs. You limped to the door, where the lookalike—clone—carried Laura, who let out another scream.

Grabbing the pistol from behind your back, you shot at the clone. The bullet struck his shoulder, forcing him to drop Laura. She landed hard on the ground, her hands and legs bound with mutant inhibitors. A low growl escaped the clone's throat as his attention snapped to you.

"That's right," you muttered, steadying your aim despite the pain radiating through your body. "Come and get me, asshole."

He charged toward you with feral intensity, his claws slicing through the air. You fired another shot, this time grazing his side. It slowed him down, but only for a second. Before you could fire again, he was on you, knocking the pistol from your hand.

You stumbled back, barely dodging the first swipe of his claws. The second swing caught your arm, and you cried out as the sharp pain ripped through your shoulder. Blood seeped through your shirt, but you gritted your teeth and pressed forward, using the momentum to land a hard kick to his stomach. He staggered back, giving you a split second to grab a piece of broken wood from the ground.

The clone recovered quickly, his predatory gaze locking onto you once more. He lunged, but this time you sidestepped, driving the makeshift weapon into his side. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but it slowed him down.

The clone backhanded you, sending you sprawling onto the dirt. Stars danced in your vision as you struggled to get up, your body screaming in protest. He advanced on Laura, who was thrashing against her restraints, her small frame writhing like a trapped animal.

“No!” you shouted, forcing yourself to your feet. You reached deep within, pulling at the thread of time, willing it to bend. The world around you shimmered faintly, the air growing heavy with the effort. You managed to slow the clone's movements, just enough to stagger forward and position yourself between him and Laura.

Before the clone could strike again, a familiar growl pierced the air.

“Get the hell away from them!” Logan’s voice roared.

The clone barely had time to turn before Logan tackled him, the force of their collision sending both of them to the ground. The two Logans clashed in a brutal, chaotic fight, claws slashing and tearing through flesh.

“Darlin’, get her to the truck!” Logan shouted, not breaking his focus on his opponent.

You didn’t hesitate. Grabbing Laura, you picked her up, your body protesting every movement. She screamed as she watched Logan fight the clone, but leaned into you for support, her wide eyes filled with something unspoken—trust.

“It’s okay, muñeca,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “We’re almost there.”

Gunfire erupted from nearby as a group of men yelled at the clone of Logan. The distraction gave you just enough time to pull Laura toward the truck, where Charles’ lifeless body lay in the backseat.

“Stay with him,” you told Laura, grabbing your vibranium blade from your ankle holster and slashing the inhibitors off her wrists and ankles as fast as your trembling hands allowed. “You hear me? Stay with him.”

Laura nodded silently, her small hands clutching at Charles’ blanket as she climbed into the truck. Her gaze lingered on you, worried and uncertain, but she stayed put.

You grabbed a device from underneath your pant leg, throwing it at the group of men. A grenade, that only released a toxin putting them to sleep.

Only a few seconds after, the armored truck blew up, the fiery blast sending shockwaves through the night. You shielded Laura with your body, the heat of the explosion brushing against your back as debris scattered around you. The clone and Logan were still locked in a brutal struggle, their grunts and growls barely audible over the roaring fire.

You turned back just in time to see Logan thrown to the ground, the clone towering over him, claws raised for the killing blow. Logan barely rolled out of the way, the claws digging into the dirt where he had just been.

A loud roar of an engine cut through the chaos, drawing everyone’s attention. Will’s van came hurtling toward the clone, its headlights blinding against the darkened field. You held your breath as the van slammed into the clone with a sickening crunch, sending him flying back into the thresher. The metal prongs of the machine impaled him, halting his movement with a grotesque finality.

Logan staggered to his feet, breathing heavily, blood and dirt smeared across his face. You started toward him, but Will jumped out of the van first, holding his shotgun with shaking hands.

Will’s eyes darted between the impaled clone and Logan. He approached cautiously, his boots crunching against the debris-strewn ground. Raising the shotgun, Will aimed it directly at the clone’s head, his expression grim and resolute. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, the deafening blast echoing across the field.

The clone’s body went limp, his head snapping back against the metal with the force of the shot. You exhaled sharply, relief mingling with the tension still coiled tight in your chest.

Will turned toward Logan, his face a mask of fury and grief. Without a word, he raised the shotgun again, this time aiming it at Logan.

Your heart stopped.

Logan stood still, his bloodied chest heaving as he met Will’s gaze. He didn’t flinch, didn’t say a word. You could see the exhaustion in his stance, the resignation.

The trigger clicked.

Empty.

For a moment, everything was still. Then Will staggered, his knees buckling as the shotgun slipped from his hands. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his body folding into itself like a marionette with cut strings.

“Darlin’,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling your attention. He was limping toward you, his face etched with exhaustion and pain. “We need to go. Now.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat as you turned back to Laura, who was staring at Charles’ lifeless body in the bed of the truck.

---

They had buried Charles in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and some water nearby. Logan put the shovel in the ground. Laura took out her earbuds as Logan spoke quietly, “well… it’s got water, and…” Laura moved over to Logan and put her hand around his wrist, both their knuckles bloody.

Logan looked down briefly before turned his gaze towards the small pond, “it’s got water.” His voice broke as he took a deep sigh. He plunged the shovel into the ground in anger, muttering, “fuck this,” a few times while walking back to the truck, shovel still in hand.

You stood by the makeshift grave, each breath hurting worse than the last. The exhaustion wasn’t making it much easier either.

Laura walked further down the grassy field to stand by a tree as she watched Logan try to turn on the truck, only for the engine to sputter.

Logan cursed multiple times before opening the hood. Laura noticed a man and his dog leaving his parked car some distance away. She turned back to Logan, how was now hitting the truck repeatedly with the shovel.

Moments later, Logan’s body wavered as he stumbled to the ground, passing out.

You walked over to Laura, your legs heavy, your body screaming for rest, but you pushed on. "You grab him," you said quietly, your voice strained as you nodded toward Logan's crumpled form. "I’ll get that guy’s station wagon."

Laura’s expression was unreadable, but her small frame seemed to stiffen with determination. She didn’t respond—she never did—but the faint glint in her eyes told you she understood. She moved quickly toward Logan, crouching beside him and wrapping her small arms around his wrist.

You turned away, your gaze locking onto the man and his dog in the distance. Your steps were uneven, every ounce of your body protesting, but you forced yourself forward. By the time you reached the station wagon, the man was just a few feet away from his car. His dog barked as he turned to face you, startled by your sudden appearance.

"Hey!" he called out, confusion written on his face. "What are you—?"

"I’m sorry about this," you interrupted, pulling your pistol from the back of your waistband and aiming it at the ground between you. "I need your car. Now."

The man froze, his hands instinctively raised. "Look, lady, I don’t want any trouble—"

"Neither do I," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the throbbing pain in your shoulder. "Keys. Please."

His hands fumbled into his pocket as he stared at you, fear and hesitation battling on his face. "Alright, alright," he muttered, tossing the keys toward you. "Take it."

You caught them and gave him a nod. "Thank you. You can keep the dog."

The man didn’t argue. He backed away slowly, taking the dog with him, his eyes never leaving you. You slid into the driver’s seat, the car’s worn interior creaking beneath you as you started the engine. Relief washed over you when it roared to life without hesitation.

You backed the station wagon up toward where Laura was struggling to drag Logan’s unconscious body towards you. You slammed the car into park and ran over, your legs moving on pure adrenaline at this point.

"Let me," you said, crouching down to grab Logan under his arms. Laura gave a reluctant glance but let go, stepping back to give you space.

"God, kotik, you don’t make this easy," you grunted, managing to hoist him up enough to half-drag, half-carry him toward the car. Laura moved ahead, opening the backseat door for you.

With a final heave, you got Logan inside, his weight slumping awkwardly against the seat. You turned to Laura, who was already climbing in beside him, her small hands moving to check his pulse instinctively.

You nodded at her. "You keep an eye on him. I’ll… drive.” Your voice trailed off, your exhaustion hitting its peak after lifting Logan into the car. Laura grabbed the keys from your hand without a fight from you as you passed out on the floor of the car.

---

Logan groaned as he woke up, looking directly at the ceiling to see wire fish and an IV bag above him. He coughed and the doctor immediately responded.

“Welcome back. I was starting to think I was gonna have to tell that nice little girl out in the waiting room her daddy’s gone.” Logan turned his head to face the doctor as he sighed, “I’d always hoped… that I’d get the chance to meet someone like you. There’s so few of you left.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Doc.” Logan groaned as he sat up, letting out a slight moan of pain. “But I really got to get on my way.”

“No, no, don’t do that. What you and your wife need is rest and treatment. You need to check—”

“My wife, where is she?”

“The next room—”

Before the doctor could finish talking, a high-pitched scream came from the room next door. Logan’s body tensed immediately. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the pain that radiated through him as he forced himself up. His head swam for a second, but he powered through it, instincts driving him forward.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, pushing past the doctor as he made for the door, pulling his shirt on but not buttoning it, eyes sharp and focused.

He barged into the adjacent room, only to find you standing there, fists clenched, a wild look in your eyes. A nurse was backed into the far corner of the room, pale as a ghost and trembling, her hands raised defensively. The sharp scent of antiseptic and medical supplies filled the small room, along with the tension that was thick enough to cut through.

“Darlin’,” Logan rasped, his voice a mix of relief and concern. His eyes softened slightly as he saw you, but he didn’t dare move closer yet. "It’s alright. You're okay."

You were breathing heavily, your hands shaking, but your eyes snapped to his the moment you heard his voice. The fight-or-flight instinct coursing through your veins made it hard to focus. You’d woken up surrounded by sterile equipment, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. It was too familiar—a stark reminder of things you’d tried to bury deep down. The Black Widow training. The surgeries. The loss of control.

"Where are we?" you asked through gritted teeth, not taking your eyes off the nurse. "What the hell is this place?"

Logan glanced at the nurse, then back at you. “Laura brought us here. A clinic. Some walk-in place,” he explained, his tone steady but gentle. He could see you were on edge, ready to snap at anything that moved.

Your eyes darted around the room before they landed back on Logan. The confusion and panic swirling inside you slowly began to ebb, replaced by the familiar presence of him. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, trying to ground yourself.

"I don’t—" you swallowed hard, your voice shaky. "I don’t remember how we got here."

"Neither do I," Logan admitted, taking a step closer to you. His movements were slow, non-threatening.

The nurse, still cowering in the corner, finally spoke up, her voice trembling. “I-I was just checking her vitals… she woke up—”

“She’s fine," Logan interrupted, his gaze flickering toward the nurse. "You should go.” There was no malice in his voice, but the unspoken command was clear.

The nurse nodded frantically, not needing to be told twice. She slipped out of the room, leaving the two of you standing there, the heavy silence settling in her absence.

Logan turned his full attention back to you, his brow furrowing in concern. “Darlin’, you good?”

You exhaled sharply, running a hand through your hair as you tried to steady yourself. “Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine.” But your voice betrayed you—it was shaky, uncertain.

He stepped closer, cautiously this time, his rough hands reaching for yours. "Come here."

You didn’t resist, letting him pull you into his chest. His warmth, the steady beat of his heart, was a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of emotions still swirling inside you. You buried your face into his uninjured shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Logan rested his chin on top of your head, holding you close. He could feel the tension slowly leaving your body as you leaned into him. "We’re safe," he murmured, his voice rough but soothing. "Just a clinic. We’ll be outta here soon."

You took a shaky breath, nodding against him. "I just… I hate waking up in places like this. Medical rooms. Makes me feel like I’m back in…" Your voice trailed off, but Logan didn’t need you to finish. He knew what you meant. He knew your past, the nightmares that clung to both of you like shadows.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his arms tightening around you just a fraction. “But you’re not there. Not anymore.”

For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped in the safety of his embrace, the world outside falling away. The pain in your body, the chaos of the last few days, all of it faded in the warmth of his presence. Logan was your anchor, just like you had been his for so many years.

After a few moments, you pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. "Where’s Laura?" you asked, your voice still quiet but steadier now.

Logan exhaled softly, nodding toward the door. "Out in the waiting room, apparently. She’s fine. Tough kid.”

You managed a small smile at that, despite everything. “She’s tougher than most adults I know.”

Logan huffed a small, tired laugh, but his expression softened as he looked at you. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there. “You’re tough too, ya know?”

You gave a half-hearted shrug, but the tension in your body had melted away for the most part. “I’ve had my moments.”

"Plenty of ‘em," Logan said, his voice gruff but affectionate. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “We’ll be outta here soon. Just gotta get you patched up.”

There were deep claw marks that dragged across the right side of his stomach, you were shocked they didn’t have stitches or gauze over it. Your hand went to hover over the wounds, only barely starting to concentrate on reversing the wounds before Logan’s hand firmly closed over your wrist.

“Stop it,” Logan’s voice was firm but laced with a quiet concern, his hand tightening slightly around your wrist as if to emphasize the point. His eyes, sharp yet weary, bore into yours.

“Logan, you’re hurt—” you protested softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but Logan was already shaking his head.

“I said stop,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Ain’t worth it. You know what it does to you.”

You frowned, glancing down at his wounds again, the jagged lines cutting across his stomach. “And leaving you like this is worth it? You’re bleeding, Logan. You need stitches, or—”

“Darlin’, I heal,” he interrupted, his hand moving to cup your face, his calloused thumb brushing gently along your cheek. “You don’t. Not like this. Every time you pull that trick, it damn near takes you out. Ain’t lettin’ that happen.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped you. It wasn’t just concern—it was fear, buried deep but unmistakable. He’d seen you push yourself too far before, and the memory of it still lingered, raw and unyielding.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of you. “Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly pulling your hand back. “But only because I’m too tired to argue.”

Logan huffed a small, almost amused breath, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth lifted slightly in response. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Old man, huh?” Logan smirked, though the teasing was short-lived as he winced, his hand instinctively moving to his side.

“Exactly my point,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Now sit your stubborn ass down before you keel over.”

He gave you a pointed look but obeyed, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed with a low grunt. You grabbed a clean towel from the counter and a bottle of disinfectant, perching on the chair next to him. As you worked, dabbing carefully at the wounds, the tension in the room began to ease, replaced by the familiar rhythm of your banter.

“You remember the last time we ended up in a place like this?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Logan snorted. “Which time? There’s been a few.”

“The one in Brazil,” you said with a small grin. “You tried to fight the entire waiting room because they were taking too long.”

“They were taking too long,” Logan grumbled, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “And that guy was lookin’ at you funny.”

“He was ninety, Logan.”

“And?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you pressed the towel against his side. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you keep me around anyway,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, the playful edge giving way to something softer.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the chaos of the past few days—the exhaustion, the pain, the fear—faded into the background. All that mattered was the man sitting in front of you, his rough edges softened in the quiet of the moment.

“I keep you around because I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the weight of the words.

Logan’s expression shifted, the usual gruffness giving way to something raw and unguarded. He reached out, his hand settling on the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You’ll never have to find out.”

The warmth of his words settled over you like a blanket, grounding you in a way nothing else could. You stayed like that for a moment, your breaths mingling in the small space between you, the world outside forgotten.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence, and you both turned to see Laura standing there, her dark eyes watching you with an intensity that was equal parts curiosity and concern. She didn’t say anything—she never did—but the question in her gaze was clear.

“Hey, kid,” Logan said, his voice softer than usual as he straightened up slightly. “We’re good.”

Laura tilted her head, her eyes flicking between the two of you before landing on Logan’s side. She frowned, stepping into the room and holding up a roll of gauze she’d clearly swiped from somewhere.

“Resourceful,” you said with a small smile, taking the gauze from her. “Thanks, Laura.”

She didn’t respond, just crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, her gaze never leaving Logan as you wrapped the bandage around his torso.

“She’s got your stubbornness,” you muttered under your breath, earning a huff from Logan.

The girl’s expression didn’t change, but something in her posture relaxed ever so slightly. You caught the subtle shift and smiled to yourself, finishing up the bandage before sitting back with a satisfied sigh.

“There. That should hold for now,” you said, meeting Logan’s gaze. “But you’re still taking it easy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, though there was no real heat behind it. “Let’s just get outta here.”

You nodded, glancing at Laura. “Think you can lead the way, kid?”

She gave a small nod, already turning to head back toward the waiting room. Logan pushed himself to his feet with a wince, and you quickly stepped in to steady him, earning a muttered “I’m fine” that you ignored.

The three of you made your way out of the clinic, Laura leading the way to the station wagon. She opened the driver door, throwing something to the back of the car as she climbed into the passenger seat. You got into the backseat, laying down.

“You can’t just take shit, you know.” Logan said to Laura.

“Actually, I took it. Had to threaten a guy.” You spoke from the backseat.

Logan closed the driver door, muttering an “of course” before looking at Laura. “I don’t know how you got us here… but, uh, thank you.”

“De nada.” Laura said, as Logan put the keys in the ignition.

“Yeah.” Logan looked back at Laura, “you can talk?” Laura nodded, “you can talk? What the fuck? Why in the fuck… What’s all this bullshit been for the last 2,000 fucking miles?”

Laura began to yell in Spanish, “tu espera que hable con tu cuando no mirarme? Tu espera que hable con tu cuando me insultas y tratar de dejarme atrás!?”

Your eyes widened at her words, but of course, Logan didn’t understand them. He cut Laura off, yelling at her, “shut the fuck up!”

“Logan!” You scolded, sitting up, “she’s a little kid—”

Laura kept eye contact with Logan, reciting names. “Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Rictor.”

“What? Who’s that?” Laura continued as Logan yelled again, “who is that?”

She opened her backpack, saying the names again, “Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, and Rictor.” She grabbed the envelope of money with the coordinates written on them. “North Dakota.”

“What?”

Laura pulled the envelope away, “North Dakota, por favor.”

“Shit, okay. Look—” Logan tried to grab the envelope.

“No. Por favor.”

Logan finally reached over and grabbed it from her hands. “This place. Okay? Your nurse, she read too many stories, you understand? Too many stories!” He coughed as Laura grabbed a comic book from her backpack, which Logan snatched. “I’ve seen it! I’ve seen it, okay? This all here… None of this… No existo, okay? You understand me? This Eden does not exist. No!”

“Si! Eden!”

“No! It’s a fantasy, kid. See that? Those are the names of the people who just made this… They made this whole thing up. Okay? This whole… It happened once, and they just turned it into a big, fucking lie!” Laura yelled in Spanish again, “no!”

You opened the car door, slowly getting out, leveling Logan with a look that brooked no argument. “Logan. Out. Now.”

Logan froze, his hand still clutching the comic book, his jaw tightening. “What are you doin’, sweetheart?” His voice was low, cautious.

“Get out of the car, kotik,” you repeated, your tone firm. “Now.”

Laura was glaring daggers at him from the passenger seat, her small frame somehow radiating enough fury to match his. Logan glanced at her, then back at you, clearly torn between his simmering frustration and the realization that you weren’t going to back down.

Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, opening the driver’s side door and stepping out, slamming it shut behind him. “This really necessary?” he grumbled.

You didn’t answer right away, walking a few paces away from the car until you were out of earshot from Laura. Logan followed, his boots crunching against the gravel. When you finally turned to face him, the irritation in your eyes was palpable.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, your voice quiet but edged with steel. “You yelling at her like that?”

“She started it,” Logan said, gesturing vaguely toward the car, his expression defensive. “You heard her, darlin’. She’s been sittin’ on this the whole damn time, not sayin’ a word. Now she wants to throw some fantasy story at me like it’s gospel?”

“She’s a kid, Logan,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “She’s scared. She’s trying to make sense of everything, just like the rest of us.”

Logan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I get it, okay? But this ‘Eden’ bullshit—she’s pinning her hopes on somethin’ that ain’t real. It’s a waste of time.”

“And what if it’s not?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “What if it’s real, and we’re just too jaded to believe it? You’ve been so focused on surviving, you don’t even see it anymore.”

“See what?” Logan asked, his tone tinged with exasperation.

“Hope,” you said simply, your gaze softening. “Laura’s a kid, Logan. She needs that hope, even if it feels impossible. Hell, maybe we do, too.”

Logan sighed, the tension in his shoulders sagging slightly as he looked away. “You really think it’s worth chasin’ a pipe dream?”

“I think it’s worth giving her a chance to believe in something,” you said, your voice gentler now. “If it turns out to be real, great. If not… at least we tried.”

He was quiet for a moment, his jaw working as he mulled over your words. Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes tired but not entirely unyielding. “You really think I handled that wrong, huh?”

“Like a bull in a china shop,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips despite the tension. “She’s not just some stray you picked up, Logan. She’s… she’s family now, whether you like it or not.”

“Family,” Logan echoed, the word heavy on his tongue. He let out a short, humorless laugh. “That’s a dangerous word comin’ from us.”

“Maybe,” you said, stepping closer and resting a hand on his chest, just over his heart. “But it’s true. And you’re going to apologize to her.”

Logan’s eyes widened slightly. “Apologize? To her?”

“Yes, to her,” you said firmly, your hand not moving. “Because if you don’t, I’m sleeping in the backseat and you’re not getting a single damn word out of me for the rest of the trip.”

He stared at you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, with a resigned sigh, he muttered, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” you said, stepping back and motioning toward the car. “Now, go make it right.”

Logan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “pushy,” but he turned and headed back to the car. You followed a few steps behind, watching as he opened the driver’s side door and leaned in.

“Hey, kid,” Logan said, his voice gruff but softer than before. Laura turned her head to glare at him, clearly still bristling from the earlier argument. Logan sighed, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, I… I shouldn’t have yelled. Alright? That was… not cool.”

Laura’s glare didn’t waver, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“I just…” Logan paused, clearly struggling with the words. “I’m not good at this stuff. But I’m tryin’. And if you believe in this Eden thing, then… I’ll give it a shot.”

Laura blinked, her expression shifting just slightly, the anger in her eyes softening into something more guarded. She didn’t say anything, but the way she settled back in her seat, arms uncrossing, spoke volumes.

You smiled faintly, leaning on the car door. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Logan shot you a look, but there was no real heat in it. He climbed back into the driver’s seat, and you slid into the back, leaning against the window as he started the engine.

As the car rumbled to life, Laura glanced at you in the rearview mirror. For the first time, there was a hint of something like gratitude in her eyes. You gave her a small nod, a silent reassurance that everything was going to be okay.

The station wagon pulled out onto the road, the three of you settling into an uneasy but determined silence. For better or worse, you were in this together.

---

You ended up falling asleep in the back of the car, the exhaustion still weighing heavily on you. Logan’s head tilted to the side, dozing off for a second before Laura reached over and straightened the car.

“Hey.” Logan said, pushing Laura’s hand away from the steering wheel. She said something in Spanish and Logan let out a “huh?”

“Let me drive,” she spoke.

He scoffed, “absolutely not.” Logan continued driving, fighting the urge to pass out as he felt Laura’s gaze still on him. “Quit looking at me.” Laura spoke in Spanish again and he responded with, “no comprende.”

“You are dying. Charles told me.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you,” Laura responded.

Logan’s eyes fluttered closed slowly, and once his head tilted down to his chest, Laura grabbed the wheel again, turning the car to the side of the road.

“Hey, hey, hey!” The car came to a stop.

“Rest.” Laura said simply.

---

When Logan woke up his head was in your lap, fingers gently combing through his hair that for a split second he thought things were normal. That the two of you were back in the mansion late at night, keeping quiet to not wake up anyone else.

“Hey, there.” You whispered.

“Darlin’?” He coughed, looking around to see a handful of kids surrounding the two of you. “Where are we?”

“Safe.” You replied.

Logan looked at one of the kids holding a bottle of a small green serum, “hey, what is it? Where’d you get that?”

“Where we came from,” Rictor spoke. “They gave it to us when we would fight. It makes you stronger.”

“It makes you crazy is what it does. It’ll kill you.”

You spoke up, “they only gave you a little bit. Enough to help your wounds heal.”

Logan let out a grunt, “where’s Laura?”

“Asleep.” You started to comb your fingers through his hair again, “you need to get some more rest too.”

Logan shifted slightly in your lap, his head heavy against your thighs. “I’ve been restin’,” he grumbled, his voice rough and tired.

“Not enough,” you said, your thumb brushing along the line of his jaw. “You can barely stay on your feet, kotik.”

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a low grunt of acknowledgment, but still not fully conceding. “Can’t just lay around while all this shit’s goin’ down.”

“They need you alive,” you replied softly but firmly. “We’re safe for now, and you need to heal. It’s not gonna kill you to stop for a little while.”

Logan’s lips twitched in a half-smile, his eyes still closed. “You sure about that?” he muttered, though his body seemed to sink deeper against you, the tension slowly leaving his frame.

You gave a quiet laugh, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I’m pretty sure. Trust me for once, okay?”

Logan opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. There was something softer there now, a vulnerability he didn’t show often. “I always trust you, darlin’. Even when I shouldn’t.”

“Good thing I’m always right, then,” you teased gently, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his temple. “Now get some more rest.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his eyes still locked with yours. Then, with a sigh, he relented, his head settling more comfortably in your lap. “Yeah, alright. But just for a little while,” he mumbled, his voice already starting to fade as exhaustion pulled at him.

“Just for a little while,” you echoed softly, your fingers still moving through his hair in slow, soothing strokes.

---

Logan woke up from a nightmare, this time you were behind him, arm around his waist and chest pressed to his back.

“Pesadillas.” She said in Spanish, before continuing in English, “you had a nightmare.”

Logan paused for a second, looking at the way she held onto the wooden pole of the bed in front of him. “Do you have nightmares?” he asked softly.

She nodded, “si.” Laura briefly looked down at the floor before looking back at him. “People hurt me.”

“Mine are different.” Logan replied, his voice still quiet.

“Por que?”

“I hurt people.”

Laura got off the bed and walked over to the side of his, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a shiny silver bullet. “What is this?” She asked him in Spanish.

Logan shifted over to his side and sat up on his elbow, grunting in pain. Your arm fell down behind him. “You know what it is.” He took it out of her hand, rolling it between his fingers. He held it still, “it’s made out of Adamantium. It’s what they put inside of us. That’s why it can kill us.” He paused for a moment.

“Probably what is killing me now. Anyway… I got this a long time ago… and I kept it as a reminder of what I am. Now I keep it to, uh…” He stopped, briefly closing his eyes as he shook his head, “actually, uh… I was thinking of shooting myself with it. But I can’t do that to her… not after everythin’.”

There was a moment of silence before Laura spoke, “I’ve hurt people, too.”

“You’re gonna have to learn how to live with that.” Logan moved back down onto the bed, rolling slowly onto his back with a groan.

“They were bad people.”

“All the same.” He replied, dozing back off to sleep. Laura looked at the bullet still in his hand before taking it and putting it back in her jacket.

---

Logan drifted in and out for two days. You had slept only for one day, finally regaining your strength after overexerting yourself.

But when Logan did wake up, the kids were around him giggling. Logan pushed himself up and stumbled over to the tiny mirror on the wall.

“Not funny. That is not funny!” He scolded.

You let out a small, barely audible chuckle. “It’s a little humorous.” It wasn’t exactly like how he used to shave, but it was pretty damn close.

“How long have I been out?”

"Two days," you said, sitting on the edge of the small cot Logan had been resting on. "They’re leaving tomorrow before dawn. They’re gonna cross the border to Canada."

Logan snorted as he rubbed his face, still groggy. "Canada," he muttered, shaking his head.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Logan."

"What?" He leaned heavily against the mirror, scowling at his reflection. "We both know it’s just a pipe dream."

"Maybe," you said, your tone calm but firm. "But those kids believe in it. It’s not about what’s real to you, kotik. It’s about what it means to them."

Logan turned to look at you, his scowl softening just slightly when he met your eyes. "You’re startin’ to sound like Chuck," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"Good," you replied. "He had a way of cutting through your bullshit."

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it ended in a cough. He pressed a hand to his side and winced. You were on your feet in an instant, steadying him. "You’re still pushing yourself too hard."

"I’m fine," he grumbled, though he didn’t pull away from your touch. "These kids… they’re not ready for what’s out there. We both know that."

"Then help them," you said softly. "Show them how to survive."

Logan shook his head, his expression torn. "I don’t even know if I’ve got it in me anymore, darlin’. Every time I think about fightin’, it feels like… like it’s just pullin’ me closer to the end."

"You’ve been saying that for decades," you countered, your hand slipping down to take his. "And yet, here you are. Still standing. Still fighting. These kids need you, Logan. And so does Laura."

He sighed, looking down at your joined hands. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "You’re too damn good at this, y’know," he said, his voice gruff. "Talkin’ me into doin’ the right thing."

You smiled faintly. "Someone’s gotta keep you in line."

Logan gave a low chuckle, but his eyes drifted toward the window, where the faint sounds of the kids preparing for their journey echoed through the quiet night. "What happens if it’s all bullshit?" he asked quietly.

"Then we’ll figure it out," you said. "Like we always do."

Logan nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he seemed to make a decision. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll help ‘em get to the border. But after that… it’s up to them."

"That’s all anyone can ask," you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."

Logan let out a breath, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment. "You’re a real pain in my ass, sweetheart."

"You love me for it," you teased, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

Logan pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression softening. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I do."

---

Daytime melted into nighttime again, the kids enjoying one last night around the campfire chatting, laughing. You sat with them, showing off your own mutation to some of the younger kids, briefly pausing the fire before letting it roar again.

Logan watched from inside the cabin, reminding him of when things were simpler. How you and Ororo would talk in Russian so no one else could understand what you were saying. How one time you and Rogue pied Scott in the face after he dropped the hot dogs into the fire.

Laura entered the cabin as he turned to look at her, “your friends, they seem nice,” he admitted. “Kind of reminds me…”

Laura put something into her backpack, then she walked past him to go out by the fire. He grabbed her arm, stopping her and pulling her closer. “Hey, hey, what’s going on? Huh?” She ignored him, yanking her arm free from his grasp. “You’re with your pals. You made it.”

“Where will you go?” she asked.

Logan considers the question for a moment, “nearest bar, for starters.” Laura absorbs his answer before turning back around, making her way to the exit. “Hey, I got you here. That’s all I signed up for. I even gave back the money.

She turned to face him, “such a nice man.” Laura said sarcastically.

“Hey, I never asked for this!” Logan started, his voice raising, “all right? Charles never asked for this. Caliban never asked for this. And they are six feet under the ground! Now, I don’t know what Charles put in your head, but I am not whatever it is you think I am, okay? I only met you, like, a week ago. You got your Rebecca, your Delilah, your blah, blah, blah, whatever. Everything you asked for, you’ve got it!”

Laura continued to look at him, a slight look of hurt across her face. He continued, “and it is better this way. Because I suck at this. Bad shit happens to people I care about. You understand me?”

She met his eyes, “then I’ll be fine.” Laura walked outside as Logan watched her exit.

---

Logan woke up to the sun streaming in through the small cabin. You were asleep behind him, hand lightly wrapped around his bicep. It was quiet, the kids and Laura were all gone.

On the table next to the bed was the green serum, and next to it a note, “not all at once. Rictor.” He walked outside to look out at rocky hills, the car still parked in the same spot it was when they got here.

Drones buzzed above him, making him look up. Logan climbed the stairs of the watch tower before limping to the binoculars. He saw military grade trucks driving through the forest, presumably following the kids.

Logan’s heart thudded as the trucks rolled through the forest, their engines a low growl against the quiet morning air.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, the sight twisting his gut into knots.

He turned and stomped back down the stairs, his limp more pronounced than usual. The pain in his legs flared, sharp and insistent, but he pushed it down. There wasn’t time for that.

Inside the cabin, you stirred as he walked in, your voice groggy but warm. “What’s all the stomping about, kotik?”

Logan grabbed the serum off the table and shoved it into his pocket. “Trouble,” he grunted, heading straight for the bag he’d left by the door.

You sat up, your brows furrowing. “Logan.”

He didn’t stop moving.

“Logan,” you said more firmly, your voice snapping him to a halt. “What kind of trouble?”

He turned to face you, his jaw tight. “The kind that’s gonna put a lot of those kids six feet under if I don’t get my ass moving.”

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, pulling on your boots as you spoke. “Then let’s go.”

“No,” he barked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be. “You’re staying here.”

You froze mid-motion, your eyes locking onto his. “Like hell I am.”

“Darlin’—”

“Don’t start,” you cut him off, standing and stepping into his path. “You think I’m just gonna sit here while you throw yourself into God knows what?”

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, his frustration simmering. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“Good,” you shot back, grabbing your jacket and sliding it on. “Because I’m not arguing. I’m coming.”

Logan shook his head, his voice low and tight. “This isn’t your fight.”

You stepped closer, your voice softening but no less firm. “Logan, when have I ever let you fight alone?”

He stared at you, his chest heaving with the weight of his unspoken fears.

“I’m not leaving you to handle this on your own,” you continued, your eyes searching his. “We do this together. That’s the deal.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he muttered, “Fine. But you stay behind me. No heroics.”

You smirked faintly, your fingers brushing over his arm. “Wouldn’t dream of it, kotik.”

Logan let out a low grunt of frustration, grabbing his gear. “You ready?”

“Always,” you replied, grabbing your knives from the table and tucking them into your belt.

The two of you stepped outside, the morning air crisp and heavy with tension.

---

Logan’s breathing was ragged as he leaned heavily against the tree. You kept a hand on his shoulder, your expression torn between worry and focus. You knew he was struggling—his healing wasn’t what it used to be—but they didn’t have time to dwell on that now.

“I’m gonna find Rice,” You said quietly, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I’ll stay on his trail. You focus on the kids.”

Logan nodded, his face grim. “You sure you can handle Rice on your own?”

“I’ve got this,” you said firmly, taking a deep breath before stepping away.

Logan straightened, clearly in pain but too stubborn to acknowledge it. “Be careful, Y/N.”

“I will,” you replied, already starting to move deeper into the forest.

You moved swiftly through the dense forest, the distant sounds of engines and shouts growing louder with each step. Your grip on your knife tightened, and your breath came steady despite the rush of adrenaline. Years of training kicked in, each movement calculated and silent.

Ahead, you spotted a group of men. They were clustered together, clearly guarding something—or someone. Rice had to be close. You pressed yourself against a tree, observing their movements, counting their weapons.

Slipping between the trees, you crept closer. The element of surprise was always your greatest advantage. In a swift motion, you stepped behind the nearest man, your blade slicing cleanly through the strap of his rifle before you took him down with a sharp elbow to the temple. He crumpled without a sound.

Before you could move on to the next, another guard turned, catching sight of you. “Over here!” he shouted, raising his weapon.

“Damn it,” you muttered, darting into the shadows as gunfire erupted. You took cover behind a fallen log, calculating your next move.

One by one, you picked them off, your movements fluid and precise. But as you turned to face the last of them, a sharp sting hit your neck. You reached up, pulling out a dart, the world already starting to tilt.

A sedative. Not enough to knock you out, but enough to slow you down. Your grip on the knife loosened as your knees buckled.

“Got her!” one of the men shouted, rushing toward you. You swung at him, catching him across the cheek, but your strength was fading fast.

“You’re a feisty one,” another voice drawled. Rice stepped out from the shadows, a smug grin on his face. “But even you can’t fight forever.”

Your vision blurred as they grabbed you, binding your wrists. You fought to stay upright, your head lolling to the side. “You... have no idea... who you’re dealing with,” you slurred, your voice defiant despite your state.

“Oh, I think I do,” Rice replied, stepping closer. “You’re the one he’s been running with, aren’t you? Always knew Wolverine had a soft spot. Let’s see how far that gets him.”

You snarled, trying to jerk away, but the sedative made your limbs uncooperative. They dragged you toward their truck, your heart pounding not from fear but from frustration. You weren’t scared. You knew Logan would come. He always did.

---

Donald held Rictor at gunpoint, slowly walking into the grass. “Nine o’clock.” A soldier by the children shouted, pointing their guns at Logan.

“That green juice is wearin’ off, huh? You know, for an old mute, it’s kind of a short high.” Donald said, as Rictor kneeled in the grass, Donald’s grip tight on the back of his neck. “Be hard to keep them claws out, soon.”

“Waste this dick, Logan!” Donald knocked Rictor unconscious with the butt of his gun, keeping the muzzle pointed at his head.

Rice walks forward from behind Donald, one of the military men dragging you beside him. “Please stop, Mr. Howlett. I’m gonna have to tell these men to fire on these children and your wife. You don’t want that. You can see the effects of the serum are wearing off. You will not survive further wounds. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Zander Rice. I believe you knew my father on the Weapon X Program.”

Logan’s look grew darker as he held up his bloody claws, “yeah. He’s the asshole who put this poison in me.”

Rice nodded, “yes, he was one of them.”

“I think I might have killed him.”

“I think you’re right.”

Donald spoke up, “why don’t you show some respect, mutie? You’re lookin’ at the man who wiped out your kind.”

“My friend Donald overstates.” Rice said. “He makes it sound more brutal than intended. The goal was not to end mutant kind… but to control it. I realized we needn’t stop perfecting what we eat and drink. That we could use those products to perfect ourselves. To distribute gene therapy discreetly through everything from sweet drinks to breakfast cereals. And it worked. Random mutancy went the way of polio. We embarked on our next endeavor.”

“Growing mutants of your own.” Logan growled out, his breathing still choppy.

“Precisely.” Rice responded.

“Dangerous times, James. You can’t- ”

Logan shot his gun at Donald, hitting his bionic arm. You acted quickly, kicking down the man’s legs while grabbing a dagger from your thigh holster, stabbing him in the gut before doing a kip-up to stab Rice directly in the throat. As you pulled your dagger out, Rice fell to the ground, dead.

You glanced over at Logan, who was still fighting against the effects of the serum, his movements becoming increasingly labored.

The soldiers around them were momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in power. Laura, who was waiting for Logan’s signal, started to attack the soldiers who stood by her friends.

Donald quickly got up and walked to one of the vans, opening the back door. “Showtime, boy!”

The clone of Logan jumped out of the back, tackling him to the ground. You ran over to the group of kids, hurriedly taking off the large metal handcuffs. Once you were finished, you watched as Logan was thrown into one of the van’s heavily armored doors, knocking it off.

The clone tried to jump on him but Logan used the door as a shield, pushing the clone to the ground. The clone tried to get up but Logan hit him with the door again, before pushing the door down against the clone’s neck.

“Get up, boy. Get up, boy!” Donald called out. The clone looked behind him at the dead body of Rice, “they did that. Get up!”

The clone slashed the bottom of the door with his claws before kicking Logan away, who landed next to Laura. The young girl screamed before running to the clone, jumping onto his back.

“Laura! No!” Rictor yelled.

Rictor’s shout barely reached your ears as everything moved in a blur of violence and chaos. Laura was already on the clone, her small body attacking with the same viciousness as Logan, her claws slashing at his back, her teeth bared in fury.

“Laura!” You called out, but it was too late. The girl was locked into the fight now, claws sinking into flesh. The clone grunted, his expression a twisted mix of pain and rage. He threw Laura off with a brutal force that sent her flying into a nearby tree.

You looked at the young kids and at Donald, still by the van. “You want revenge? Go get it.” You said, as the kids nodded and walked over to the man—their former captor.

The kids didn’t need to be told twice. Their eyes were filled with a combination of fear, anger, and a desire for revenge. One by one, they stepped toward Donald, who was still on his feet, though his bionic arm was sparking from Logan’s earlier shot. He raised his remaining good hand, trying to shield himself as the children advanced.

“Wait—wait, listen—” Donald stammered, but the children weren’t interested in his pleas.

With a primal scream, the first child reached out, his hands glowing with energy, and sent a shockwave directly at Donald, slamming him back against the van. The others followed, each unleashing their own abilities—one sent vines up from the ground to entangle him, while another froze the air around him, leaving frost on his skin.

Logan and Laura were both on the ground, the clone limping away as Rictor lifted the control van into the air before dropping it onto the clone.

“Go.” Logan heaved out before coughing. “Let’s go. Go.” He continued to tell Laura. Laura started to walk to the other children, Logan behind her gently guiding her. “Go, go, go! Go! Get out of here! Go!”

A metallic creak came from the control van, the clone underneath pushing it off of him. “Go. Go, go, go!” Logan continued ordering the kids, turning around momentarily to look in the direction of the van, seeing his clone run over. “Go, go!”

Before the clone could claw Logan again, you shoved him out of the way, throwing him to the ground as the clone’s claws tore through your shoulder. You gasped, the searing pain ripping through your body, but you bit it back, locking eyes with Logan.

“Logan, move!” you shouted, pushing him away as the clone yanked his claws free, sending blood spraying onto the grass. The clone let out a guttural growl, his feral eyes narrowing on you. His claws glistened, dripping crimson as he lunged again.

Logan scrambled to his feet, his breathing ragged, the strain evident in every movement. “Darlin’, don’t—”

The clone spun, his massive frame colliding with Logan. He roared as he grabbed him, his claws plunging into Logan’s torso before he lifted him off the ground.

“Logan!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you struggled to get up. Blood poured from your wound, but you forced yourself forward, adrenaline propelling you.

The clone hauled Logan onto the jagged stump of a fallen tree. The wood speared through Logan’s body with a sickening crunch, and he let out a choked cry of pain. Blood bubbled at his lips as the clone twisted his claws deeper, stabbing him again.

“Logan!” you cried out, your heart twisting at the sight of him impaled, struggling.

The clone raised his arm for another strike, his claws gleaming, but before he could bring it down, a gunshot rang out. The clone’s head snapped back violently, and a fine mist of blood sprayed into the air as the bullet struck him square between the eyes. His body went limp, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Your head whipped toward the source of the shot. Laura stood there, clutching the fallen gun, her small chest heaving with adrenaline. The smoking barrel glinted in the sunlight. She dropped the gun immediately, her expression shattering as she rushed toward Logan.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled, her voice shaking as she reached him. Her hands trembled as she began hacking at the jagged stump with her claws, splintering the wood with every furious strike.

You stumbled over, the pain in your shoulder nearly blinding, but nothing mattered except getting to Logan. Dropping to your knees beside him, you cupped his bloodied face in your hands. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, and his breaths came in ragged gasps.

“Kotik, stay with me,” you pleaded, your voice breaking as you pressed your forehead to his. “Please. Don’t you dare leave me now.”

Logan’s lips twitched, a faint, pained attempt at a smirk. “Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Guess… I’m finally... gonna get some rest.”

“Shut up,” you choked out, tears blurring your vision. “You’re not going anywhere. You hear me? You’re not.”

Laura let out a frustrated scream as she finally splintered enough of the stump to free Logan. He slid off the wood with a groan, collapsing into your arms. His weight was heavy, his strength all but gone, but you held him tightly, your fingers curling into his bloodied shirt.

“You’re okay,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re okay.”

Laura crouched beside you, her face streaked with tears. “He’s not okay,” she sobbed, her small hands clutching his arm. “He’s not.”

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, barely. He looked at Laura, then at you, his gaze softening despite the pain. “You two…” he breathed, his voice weak but steady. “You’re my girls.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you said firmly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. “We’re getting you out of here. We’re gonna fix this.”

“Take them, and run.” He said hoarsely.

Laura shook her head, “no.”

“Run. They’ll keep coming and coming. Listen, you don’t have to fight anymore.” Laura found Logan’s hand, gripping it tightly. “Go, go.” Laura’s tears fell down in a steady stream. “Don’t be what they made you.” Logan whispered. He continued, “Laura… Laura…”

"Daddy," Laura whispered, her voice barely audible as tears streamed down her face. Her small hand gripped Logan's tightly, as if trying to keep him anchored to life.

Logan’s eyes flickered to her, the faintest smile pulling at his cracked lips.

“Don’t,” you cut in sharply, your voice cracking as you leaned closer to him. “Don’t talk like this, kotik. You’re gonna be fine. We’ll get you somewhere safe, patch you up. You’ve been through worse.”

His gaze shifted to you, soft despite the agony written all over his face. “Darlin’… you know better.”

“No!” Your voice rose as tears burned hot trails down your cheeks. You cupped his face again, leaning down so your forehead pressed against his. “No, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to leave us.”

Laura’s sobs grew louder as she clung to his arm, her claws retracting as if she couldn’t bear to see them anymore. “We need you,” she choked out. “I need you.”

Logan chuckled softly, a faint, pained sound that broke what was left of your composure. “Nah… you don’t, kid. You’re strong. Stronger than me, stronger than… anyone.”

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t let this be it, Logan.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand brushing your cheek. “You’ve always been stubborn,” he murmured. “That’s why I love you.”

“Then fight,” you pleaded. “Fight for us. For her. For me.”

His eyes opened again, and for a moment, it was like he saw everything—every lifetime, every moment you’d ever shared, every tragedy and every fleeting happiness. “I have, darlin’… I fought long enough.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head, your voice breaking into a sob. “No, Logan, please—”

“I’ll… always find you,” he whispered, his words halting and labored. His gaze moved to Laura one last time. “Don’t… let them make you… what they made me.”

Laura let out a broken cry, clutching his hand tighter as his body slackened against you. “Daddy,” she whispered again, shaking her head in denial. “No, no, no!”

“Logan!” you screamed, gripping his face, trying to shake him awake. But his body was still, his head tilting slightly to the side. The faint, pained smirk on his lips remained as the last breath left his body.

“No!” Laura screamed, pounding her small fists into the dirt beside him. “No, no, no!”

Your hands shook as you held his face, your forehead resting against his as sobs racked your body. He was gone. The realization was like a knife twisting in your chest, carving out a piece of your soul.

Laura crawled closer, pressing herself into Logan’s side as her sobs filled the air. You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close even as your own tears refused to stop. The two of you clung to him, unwilling to let go, unwilling to believe he was truly gone.

In the distance, the wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the echoes of your grief.

i'm so sorry��i totally didn't cry while writing the ending...

anyways, there is a part 2 to this which is 'deadpool and wolverine' so thank you ryan reynolds for giving us a canon why to fix things and give our characters a happy ending😊

i'm not sure when the part 2 is going to be done, so it might be a while

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #old man logan x reader #old man logan #i love you in every time #i love you in every life

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livwritesstuff · 2 months ago

Text

happy valentine's day pallies <3 threw this the office-inspired drabble together for funsies over the last few days and thought today was a good a day as any to finally post

“What the hell is wrong with Dustin?” Eddie asked as he walked through the open door to Robin and Nancy’s apartment, “I passed him in the hall and he’s ranting and raving like a goddamn lunatic. Barely even acknowledged me.”

“You got lucky,” Steve shook his head as the rest of the Party, scattered around the living room, gave a similarly over it-kind of response, “Also – hey. Missed you.”

Eddie dropped down onto the couch next to Steve and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Ugh,” Robin groaned from the other end of the couch, “Either get a room or be gross later.”

“Missed you more, my love,” Eddie said loudly and pointedly as he settled in, and Steve ignored the way Robin rolled her eyes as Eddie draped an arm over his shoulders, “So…Dustin? What’s his deal?”

“He thinks he’s never gonna find love,” Lucas said from his spot on the rug, mouth full of half-crunched chips.

“Because he hasn’t dated anyone since Suzie,” Will clarified.

Steve watched Eddie’s eyebrows furrow.

“Uh, okay, didn’t they split, like, a month ago?”

“Yep,” Mike nodded.

“And didn’t Dustin just say last week that he’s happily married to his studies?”

“Dude,” Mike replied, “If you hadn’t been thirty minutes late, you would have seen us ask him these exact same questions.”

“Alright, gimme a fuckin’ break, man,” Eddie protested as Robin stuck a foot out and clipped the side of Mike’s head, “Not all of us are in college, asshole, living our most carefree lives. Some of us have jobs we're societally obligated to hold onto, Michael.”

“Anyway,” Steve cut in before Mike and Eddie’s bickering could derail the discussion too badly, “Dustin is apparently so desperate for love or whatever now that he’s trying to crowdsource a relationship.”

“And we’ve all been drafted,” Max said drily, “He wants us to set him up with someone at least once a month.”

“Each,” El added from beside Max in the armchair they're squashed in together.

“Each,” Max repeated with a nod.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie blinked, “He needs to chill out.”

Eddie got a chorus of agreements in response, plus another snarky comment from Mike about how he could have told Dustin this himself if he hadn’t been late to their weekly movie night hangout, and then from there, the conversation spun into the Party’s usual overlapping pre-movie (waiting for the pizza to be delivered) chatter.

Eddie turned his attention to Steve.

“So who’s the lucky girl you’re siccing our deranged little buddy on?” he asked, voice just loud enough for Steve to hear over the surrounding conversations.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugged, catching Eddie's hand in his and starting to fiddle with the chunky ring on his pointer finger, “I don’t think anyone here is gonna put up with his shit, but…yeah, I dunno, I feel bad. I might try setting him up with Lauren – y’know, Andie’s friend she has over all the time?”

Andie is Steve’s roommate, who took Robin’s spot on the lease after Robin, the woman she is, U-Hauled with Nancy at a spectacular rate (barely a month into her and Steve’s lease). Steve couldn’t exactly blame her – Nancy’s brownstone is leagues (and leagues and leagues and leagues) nicer than the shitty walk-up he and Robin had barely been able to afford at the time. Plus, Robin was all kinds of apologetic about it – paid her half of the rent and everything until she found a suitable subletter.

Enter Andie, a women’s and gender studies major who Robin had met at their school’s SGA during her first semester of undergrad and who leans pretty much as far to the right on the good ol' Kinsey Scale as someone could. Both Steve and Andie had been a little on the fence at first, but as far as living with a half-stranger goes, he can admit that it actually went okay.

Case in point, he and Andie are both a good few years out of college now and neither of them have made any move to, y'know...move.

“Lauren?” Eddie repeated, “You mean, Andie’s straight friend? The one Andie is very actively and overtly trying to woo?”

“It’s not gonna work,” Steve insisted (because this has been a topic of conversation between the two of them for a while), “If she’s straight, she’s straight.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie acknowledged, “But it’s not her I'd be worried about, Stevie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Steve – it’s basically a lose-lose for you. If Dustin goes on a date with Andie’s straight friend that she is, once again, very overtly and obviously into, whether or not it goes well – whether or not it even happens, Steve – Andie’s gonna find out that you were the one behind it, and you’re living with her.”

“So?”

“Dude, you’re gonna get booted outta your place.”

“No way,” Steve scoffed at him.

“I’m telling you – hell hath no fury like a lesbian scorned. Have you seen Nancy at the bar when someone is trying to hit on Robin? The big guy in the clouds was cutting from the same cloth when he created these ladies.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's brand of ex-Catholic poetic.

“Well…whatever. It’s just an apartment. If Andie really has an issue…I dunno, I’ll just move.”

Eddie grinned at him.

“Oh really?” he says, “And who do you think’s gonna be taking you in? You’re a crazy neat-freak, you think it’s totally appropriate to watch sports during breakfast – I mean, seriously, I get wanting to watch Sunday Night Football or whatever, but listening to recaps before I've had a cup of coffee is borderline criminal – and you've got basically a thousand houseplants.”

“Yeah,” Steve gave a feigned nod of understanding, “Maybe I’ll just move in with my boyfriend – he could use some order in his life.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, straightening a little in his seat, “I’m in if you are, Stevie-boy.”

Steve felt his face fall just a little. He tried to laugh it off, but even he could hear how awkward it sounded, and he glanced around to make sure the rest of the Party was otherwise occupied.

“I mean...," he said slowly, keeping his eyes on their hands so he didn't have to look at Eddie and his ever-expressive face, "I’m not gonna move in with someone unless we’re getting married.”

He really won’t either.

He’d done that before with his first serious boyfriend a few years ago – it was kind of a U-Haul situation in its own right, and it’s how Steve’s apartment became Andie’s apartment that Steve pretty please asked to move back into four months later when everything went to shit with the boyfriend.

(Their landlord had raised an eyebrow at them when they asked to put Steve back on the lease he’d only just left, but he didn’t ask any questions.

“He probably thinks we’re, like, a total dysfunctional couple or something,” Andie had pointed out.

“If only he knew,” Steve shook his head, “He’s leasing to a pair of idiot queers who can’t get their love lives together.”)

So, yeah, the U-Hauling thing may work for lesbians (or, two very specific lesbians whose couch he's sitting on, at the very least), but it’s not for Steve.

He’s a little too intense for it, contradictory as it sounds. He’s been burned in the past by the notion that someone could be willing to take a step as big as moving in with someone, and yet still see their relationship as “unserious” enough to balk at other big things (things like meeting each other’s friends and family, and what to do if Steve had another seizure). He’s not interested in being burned again, thanks.

Not that he actually thinks Eddie would do anything like that – the opposite actually. Steve knows he won’t.

For as long as he and Eddie were friends, Steve had known it in a kind of way he didn't even think about, and he's known it in another way, in a way he couldn't not think about, ever since he eavesdropped on a conversation between Robin and Eddie.

“Steve’s boyfriend is a fucking asshole and I hate him,” Robin had said, because this was back when Steve was dating (and living with) his ex, who did turn out to be a colossal fucking asshole, but this was the first time Steve had heard that particular opinion voiced by one of his friends.

“Shit, okay," Eddie had replied, "Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

Robin had paused for a split second before saying, “No. You’d just finally decide to confess your love for him and make everything even messier than it already is.”

They'd both been quiet for another few moments, and then Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fuck, man, that blows." Another pause. "I just – I don't understand how anybody could get to have Steve like that and not worship every breath he takes. I'm telling you – if it were me, you'd be able to break me down into fuckin' molecules and still be able to find him there. He's the sun in the fuckin' sky, dude. How are people not getting this?"

Steve hadn't been able take any more than that, not without feeling like something within him would split in two, so he had gone back to getting snacks in the kitchen like Eddie and Robin had thought he was doing, and then he'd spent the rest of the night feeling a little nauseous in a way he couldn't explain.

To this day, Steve is pretty sure that neither Robin nor Eddie know that he'd overheard their conversation, but it's what led to him breaking up with his boyfriend nonetheless.

Nothing had happened between Steve and Eddie at first. Eddie had actually been in his own relationship at the time, despite his and Robin' conversation, though they inexplicably split only a month after Steve’s break-up (Eddie never gave the Party a reason why).

Not too long after that though, Eddie had shown up on Steve’s doorstep (in a goddamn rainstorm, no less, the theatrical bastard) to profess his undying love, and by then Steve had spent enough time reflecting on the last several years of his friendship with Eddie and had firmly landed on the conclusion that he was in love with him too.

And so here they are now.

Steve spared a quick glance at Eddie to see that he was wearing a cute, kind of confused look.

“Wait – Steve, have I not proposed to you yet?”

And Eddie's truly dumbfounded tone, Eddie's way of bringing Steve's attention back up to his face so Steve could see the cheeky grin he's still wearing, had relief flooding through Steve's veins and washing away any doubt or insecurity or fear because, as Steve might have let himself forget, this is Eddie.

“I don’t think so…” Steve replied, then he flipped their clasped hands over to show his unmistakably ringless ring finger, “Nope.”

“Huh. Well…look out, Stevie, ‘cuz that’s coming.”

“Oh really?” Steve asked, and now he’s got a big smile growing on his face too, and he ignored the way his heart was thrumming over what Eddie had just divulged to him, how matter-of-fact, how certain he'd sounded when he said it.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nodded, and Steve is so in love with him it nearly hurts.

“You mean, like, right now?” Steve continued, still feigning confusion, still keeping up the bit like they weren't having a huge, important, real conversation right now, because they hadn’t been together that long, all things considered, and yet Steve wasn’t surprised to hear any of this because he felt it too.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Not right now. Have a little faith, darling. Now would be pathetically unromantic.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed his agreement, though a small part of him could acknowledge that now – happy and surrounded by all their friends – wouldn’t be the worst way to get engaged, but Eddie hadn't lost any of his flair for dramatics over the years, so he's not exactly surprised to hear that Eddie is picturing something more.

“I got it all planned out, don’t you worry," Eddie told him, looking all kinds of proud, “And it’s gonna knock your socks off, Steve Harrington.”

"Alright," Steve said as Eddie leaned away, leaned back into conversation with their friends, a tight squeeze to Steve's hand his only acknowledgement of the sheer magnitude of the conversation they'd just had, "I've been warned."

#andie does not kick steve out #and eddie proceeds to fake-propose to steve at every opportunity for a full year #i realize that this unfortunately makes dustin the *michael scott* of the situation #apologies to dustin #it had to be done #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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twopoppies · 22 hours ago

Note

Hi Gina! Love your content, btw. Seeing a lot of holivia stuff lately and I was not aware of 1D or the solo careers of any of the guys except Harry before Liam's death (but I'd only seen him in passing online).

When I became a fan last fall, I immediately fell for Louis and I really had a difficult time seeing El as a stunt/beard. Their photos looked more like a real couple and it seems that she spent a good deal of time with Louis, even being a bridesmaid in Jay's wedding. I trusted the other stuff out there and veteran Larries that there was nothing romantic between them. I haven't really paid attention to detail with H & O.

With the longer stunts like Harry and OW, and Louis and El, how much time did the women actually spend with them? Did they live together? Only do pap walks and events together? I know Louis took El on vacations. I'm guessing Harry and I vacationed together, too. Zara has vacationed with Louis and they supposedly went on an overnight together early on. Are they alone or always with other people? Do we know, especially with Harry possibly being bi, that there was never any sexual intimacy involved with either couple? Or will that forever be a mystery? Lol

Hi, sugar. Wow. You have a lot of years to catch up on. I’m so impressed!

So, first of all, when we see photos of them “on vacation,” there’s no way they’re sharing a bedroom or a house etc. I also really doubt they’re spending very much time together at all. Back in the day, the famous Central Park zoo walk with swiftie was reported by fans to literally be ten minutes long. They walked in, took some (uncomfortable) photos, and walked back out (and fans asked for his photo/ autograph and not hers🤣). So, I’d use that as a basic reference.

I think there are times when they’re with the women longer, like they have a dinner together or walk around for a while.

In general, I think there are times when what starts as a PR relationship can turn into something real. I think Zayn and Gigi started that way.

But I don’t for a single second think Harry was ever intimate with any of these women. Besides the fact that I think that whole bisexual thing is purely to cover up how queer he obviously is. It allows him to be who he is (to an extent), be ambiguous about his sexuality, but still lets the GF Harries have their fantasies. He’s never claimed to be bi (in fact he literally said he wasn’t). Beyond that, there was zero sexual chemistry between him and any of these women. So… while we have no proof, we have eyes.

They are often on these trips with other people. With Harry we used to see Jeff, Xander, Luis, Lou Teasdale, sometimes Tommy, or Brad, etc. Louis always seems to have Oli. The point is to make people think it’s super romantic and secluded. But if you were able to zoom out, I would bet there are others close by.

I think because these things are meant to look real and we are rarely if ever going to have definitive proof, you have to look at everything from a Birds Eye view. Take each relationship as a whole and look at things like the context in which it occurred, what was going on around the same time, how did each party benefit, when/how did it end, etc. what I think you’ll see, is that there’s a very clear pattern with all of them.

I hope that helps a little.

#stunts #holivia #elounor #Harry’s sexuality #Louis’ sexuality

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gayofthefae · 9 months ago

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i just rewatched the hopper threatening mike scene bc of your post and was reminded how we literally don't know what he said to mike??! (someone else pointed this out way back, i just forgot). but like! he says i'm going to talk and you're going to listen, and then they drive off, and we don't see the actual convo. i think all we know is what mike says later, that hopper said he's spending too much time with el. i'm curious how you think that whole convo went.

Such a good point and this one of those things I like "meant to think about later"

Yes "I am going to talk and you are going to listen". I of course don't think it was anything explicit that Mike feared but he had definitely had that switch to "convince him how bad I wanna be with El" by that point in the conversation. So I don't exactly know what the "boundary" was but at the time I remember interpreting it as "stop spending time with her indefinitely, I'll let you know when you can come back".

But that threatening energy definitely stayed and I don't know that he stopped feeling scared of Hopper catching onto him even if he knew that he hadn't yet. In a similar way to El accusing him of not loving her. He knew by the end that she was mad about his behavior but didn't know why he was doing it, just like Hopper, but that doesn't put him in any less risk of her finding out if she's seeking those answers.

I think the same is true for Hopper. I think the talk in the car was very "tomorrow, you will not come to the house, you will not call and talk on the phone all day, and you will do that the next day and the next and the next and some time after that we will see if I will-" as he said in that scene "-allow you to continue to date my daughter".

I think that whatever he said was a continuation of what we saw but not clearly convinced of Mike's "normalcy" of feelings towards El enough that Mike's obedience was not based in trying to prevent Hopper from wanting to dig any deeper into it (especially as a literal COP).

But yeah. I don't know what Hopper said but whatever it was, Mike still felt scared about being found out afterwards. Enough that he couldn't just do what he ABSOLUTELY did in season 1 episode 1 and just...defy Hopper for someone he loves.

Because as I stated in my recent post, Mike DOES love El. Which is why his avoidant behavior with her is so odd. I remember thinking on my first watch "why doesn't he just disobey Hopper?" And I was right. He was never that scared of Hopper, I mean, what could he have threatened that would scare Mike that much? It's not like Hopper threatened violence against him. He WAS scary and being yelled at is a valid fear and he has legal power but at the end of the day, it all comes back to the fact that Mike has directly disobeyed Hopper BEFORE. So why wouldn't he now?

Because there are stakes to what Hopper will do if he disobeys that weren't there last time. "He'll be mad and be motivated to do something based on that" is a valid general fear, but in character, his logic I feel would lean more towards that that is preventable, protectable, and reversible. What is he gonna do? Frame him? Like-

But do you know what can't be undone?

Say Mike defies Hopper and continues seeing El, openly or in secret. Say Hopper knows. Say Hopper continues to think Mike's behavior around El, which he continues to commit to spying on, is odd. Say his curiosity motivates him to think harder on it. Say he, a straight man, continues to say to himself "that's not how I act around women, nor is it how I acted around them as a teenager. It seems almost......PERFORMATIVE". Say he realizes. Say his protectiveness over his daughter drives him to tell her. His stress about the situation drives him to tell Joyce. He tells her in Melvald's, it's overheard. Say now the whole town knows. Say they have pitchforks. Say he's the next Eddie Munson.

Now the stakes are pretty fucking IRREVERSIBLY high, aren't they? Cats don't go back in bags.

#first watch #3x01 car scene #defensive mike wheeler #mike wheele is queer #mike wheeler is gay #stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #byler season 3 #mike wheeler motives #motives

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iviarellereads · 4 months ago

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The Shadow Rising, Chapter 39 - A Cup of Wine

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Harp icon) In which it still only counts as one!

PERSPECTIVE: Elayne disembarking from the Wavedancer. She expects more rebellion from Thom and Juilin: they've already had to threaten to transfer the men to another Sea Folk ship headed the other way once this voyage, when they decided the young women weren't competent to seek out the Black Ajah.

As they walk the dock, Bayle Domon recognizes and greets them excitedly, apologizing for leaving at Falme without them. He feels he owes them, so he'll bring them to an inn where his word might help them get rooms: Tanchico is full to bursting and beds are hard to come by. Only, what happened in Falme isn’t going to happen here, is it? Nyn hesitates, but El reassures him. As Thom comes up behind them, El almost thinks Domon recognizes him.(1)

Domon does, in fact, help them get the last two rooms at the inn in question, the Three Plum Court, and joins them for supper. Nyn asks if anyone here helps the poor, and the innkeeper, Rendra, mentions that Domon uses a good portion of his profits to give soup and bread to them.

When Rendra has left, Nyn says it's good he helps people, because they might need his help too. He asks how, and she says she doesn't know exactly but he clearly employs a lot of people, and they need to find the Black Ajah if they're in Tanchico. Domon gapes incredulously until Thom and Juilin nod, then pushes his plate aside and sets his head down on his arms on the table. It do be happening again, Falme all over, he says. Maybe he should take all his ships and go back to Illian. Nyn says he might not like Illian, with Sammael ruling, and Domon's eyes almost pop out of his head. Nyn says there are no safe places any longer.(2)

Thom (and Juilin via Thom, because of the Tairen-Illianer hatred) question Domon about all sorts of useful things. Where the thieves and cutpurses tend to gather, who the nobles are and what factions they belong to, etc. Eventually they get all the info they can. Nyn gives Domon descriptions of the Black Ajah they suspect are here, and he promises to pass them along to trusted subordinates to keep an eye out.

Juilin goes out to friendly up with the rabble, Nyn goes to lay down, and Thom goes to perform in the common room, so El follows him and sits in a corner, drinking wine. At one point, she swears she can remember hearing him recite some of The Great Hunt before, but in High Chant, not the Plain he uses here.

At the end of the night, she doesn't know how much wine she drank, because one of the serving men kept her glass full.(3) Climbing the stairs, she follows Thom to his and Juilin's room, not her own. She confronts him, saying she remembers sitting on his knee, pulling his mustache, and her mother leaning over Thom's shoulder to laugh at her. Thom tells her she should go to her own room and sleep it off. El demands to know why her mother would sit on Thom's knee when he's a simple gleeman.

Thom sighs and admits he was Caemlyn's Court-bard, for a time. For Queen Morgase. El says she knew about Gareth Bryne, and Lord Gaebril from Mat, and now Morgase has been with Thom too... what makes her any better than Berelain, taking every man who catches her eye to bed? Thom slaps her, and says if she ever says anything like that about Morgase again, he'll put her over his knee. El realizes she's crying and asks why her mother would-- she can't finish the sentence, but Thom says it's lonely being a queen, and most men see only power, not a woman. Everyone wants someone in their life who cares for them.(4)

She makes her way back to her own room without help, and Nyn knows something's up. She tells El to come over and kneel down so she can look at something, and dunks El's whole head in a bucket of water. Twice, for longer than El thinks she can stand it. Then El pukes into a basin, and Nyn washes her face.

Nyn asks if El can stay awake, because she wants to try to find Egg in TAR, but she's nervous to go in without someone to wake her. El agrees, sure she can stay awake, and Nyn falls asleep with the stone ring.

PERSPECTIVE: Nynaeve searches the Heart of the Stone for Egg, to no avail. She feels eyes on her from the darkness. She thinks how Egg must be in the Waste, and ends up in the Waste herself, watching a man in a blue coat test the limits of the fog at the edges of Rhuidean. Then Birgitte Silverbow shows up and tells her she should leave this place before "he" sees.(5) Nyn flees, ending up at Emond's Field. Birgitte seems to have followed her there, launching an arrow at an unknown assailant.

Nyn chases her, demanding to know who that was. When she turns a corner instead of Birgitte she sees a man, and she almost thinks it's Lan for a minute, but his face is just a little wrong. He raises his bow and shoots at her, and she wakes screaming.(6)

PERSPECTIVE: Elayne asks what happened, and Nyn says “He looked like Lan. He looked like Lan, and he tried to kill me.” Her arm is cut, and she says if she hadn't jumped, he'd have hit her heart. Nyn tells her everything, including Birgitte, and they both worry over Egg, but decide they both need some sleep.

In the morning, she wishes she were dead. The hangover is horrific.

Juilin returns at breakfast with good news, for a certain value of "good": at least one thief he spoke to last night had a credible story of a woman matching a description. They very well may be here.

The women arrange with Rendra for new clothes and for their hair to be done up in the local style, to blend in better. Nobody mentions the problem that still remains before them: if the Black Ajah are here, then so is the item that endangers Rand, something able to bind him with his own Power.(7) El finds her appetite gone at the thought.

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(1) I'm just drawing attention here to remind us all that the narration is deeply unreliable. RJ got something right about this: we can know only what is in our experience. But sometimes, he got it too right, and he made it easy to forget that the narration is not omniscient. (2) Well, she's not wrong. Can you think of a single place in this world that's actually safe for anyone right now? Seanchan's a fascist state, the Aiel Waste is the sort of inhospitable desert that gives rise to warrior cultures at least in fiction, the whole of Randland's main continent is under siege on all sides from Forsaken, Trollocs, and Seanchan. Even the Two Rivers is being occupied by Whitecloaks. Goddamn, nobody can catch a break and there are ten books left! (3) Another eternal joke in the fandom, the one (endless) cup of wine. (4) A moment everyone needs to have as you grow up: seeing your parents for the humans they are. It's too bad she's drunk for the whole thing, but it's sweet that Thom defends Morgase without casting any aspersions on Elayne for having perfectly normal feelings. (5) Who might that man in the blue coat be? Well, that gleeman was just asking questions about Rhuidean, but surely he couldn't be in TAR testing it? How could that be? Why would he be worth fearing so strongly? (6) This one, we know. That's Slayer, and somehow, he can use either of his constituent faces. (7) Well, last chapter seemed to confirm that they're here on legit orders to find something to bind him with. Only, they're not very competent at it. That's what you get, I suppose, for organizing only with the self-interested. But, what sort of relic could bind him, and why would it be found here? Have we seen anything that might hint toward such an item? What did Egwene see in the museum in her TAR visit at the beginning of the book, what might be relevant that's already been set up?

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crowleywowley · 3 years ago

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Skirting | Jim Hopper X Reader

Summary: you wear a short skirt around Hop and he enjoys it, to say the least.

Rating: 18+!!!!!!! Minors DNI! Srsly

Warnings/tags: very smutty, basically porn with plot, afab genitalia description, brief mention of food, fingering, p in v sex, I think that’s it??

A/N: I’ve been in a bad writing slump recently, like I’ve got 4 different wips but I hate them all soooo I churned out this bad boy for everyone’s hopeful enjoyment. It’s not my best work, it’s not beta’d, but I hope u can all enjoy hopper going feral for a skirt :’)

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Jim Hopper did not consider himself a man of fashion. If he wasn’t wearing his uniform, he rotated between a variety of flannel shirts and plain tank tops, save for his one “exciting” pink and green patterned button down that he saved for special occasions. That said, he most certainly was not a man of women’s fashion; he’d attempted to buy El clothes all of one time before realizing he knew nothing about what a teenage girl is supposed to wear. It wasn’t something he ever paid attention to- in the last several years when he was with a woman, he was more focused on getting her clothes off as quickly and efficiently as possible. That’s when you walked into the picture.

Upon moving to Hawkins, you quickly realized you were a bit more… in style, so to speak, than a lot of the ladies in town. You couldn’t blame them, it was a small town and trends took about five years to make it out there, and being from a larger city, you had more access to current styles. When you’d first moved there, you received several pointed stares from some women in your office who thought you showed too much leg or wore blouses that were too “over the top”. It didn’t bother you too much, however. You wore what made you feel comfortable and didn’t plan on changing that about yourself any time soon.

This confidence was what made you catch Jim’s eye. When you’d started going on dates, he liked how you were bold in what you did, be it with your opinions, your fashion, or whatever else. It drew him in to you, made him want to keep learning more and more.

So now, as you approached his car, he felt a jolt of heat straight up his spine. You looked amazing, to say the least; a black, long-sleeved shirt with loose arms was tucked carefully into a plaid skirt, your signature black tights (the ones the older women from the office thought were too gaudy for daytime wear) hugging your legs beneath it, and your feet tucked into sharp black heels. You looked beautiful, otherworldly- you always did in his eyes. And though he’d never considered himself a man that cared about what women wore, the length of your skirt and the consequent stirring low in his belly made him reconsider that sentiment.

He had to remind himself to get a grip as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

“You tryin’ to kill me before we even have dinner?” He said with a laugh, unable to help raking his eyes over you.

“Keep it together, Hop. I’m hungry.” You responded playfully before leaning across the seat and placing a kiss on his cheek. You muttered out an apology as you wiped the lipstick your smooch had left on his cheek.

The truth was: you knew you looked good. You’d spent more time than you were willing to admit getting your hair just the way you like it and took extra care applying yourself makeup. You’d been saving this new skirt for a special occasion, and decided a nice dinner with your favorite guy was as good a time as any. It was short- shorter than you usually went for, stopping around the middle of your thigh. But it hugged your curves like it was made for you, and you for it. And not only did you know you looked good in it, you knew it would drive Hopper crazy.

You had to admit, he held himself together extremely well throughout the dinner, considering the way you not-so-discreetly rubbed his ankle with your foot the whole time. It was fun teasing him and seeing how far you could push, and having (one too many glasses of) wine in your system only made you bolder.

His shell was beginning to crack though- you noticed as soon as he walked you to your door.

“Come in for a nightcap?” You’d asked him sweetly, leaning against your door. You reached a hand out to grab his and idly played with his fingers.

You knew his answer before he responded. “Can’t say no when you look at me like that,” he smiled down at you as you unlocked your door.

He settled himself into the small couch in your living room while you prepared him a drink. When you returned, you sat opposite of him, crossing your legs.

“Dinner was delicious,” you made conversation, letting the man sip and hum in agreement.

Hopper was doing his best to stay respectful. He kept his eyes trained clearly on your face in between sips of his drink. He definitely did not notice the way your skirt rode up when you crossed one leg over another, revealing even more of your clothed leg to him. Definitely not.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a bit before you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you. As you scooted closer to him on the couch, he did the same and opened an arm to you. Settling into his side, you draped your legs over his.

“You really do look amazing tonight,” he said quietly, cheeks pinking with a slight embarrassment at being vulnerable.

You angled your head up to smile at him. “I’m glad you think so, I tried,” you admitted with a laugh.

He ran his hand slowly up and down your outer thigh, gliding easily over the nylon. “You don’t have to try at all. I always think you look nice.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You placed your palm on the side of his head and drew him in for a long, pressing kiss. He returned the sentiment, pushing his mouth against yours with the slightest hint of urgency. His hand slipped to the crook of your knees and adjusted your bodies so you were beneath him, and your legs were slotted together.

A pleased hum escaped your mouth at this position change. Your hands dragged along his scalp and tangled in the back of his hair, attempting to pull him closer. While the sex was great, these sorts of kisses were undeniably your favorite. They were passionate yet tender, holding all the weight of what was to come. He kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered; if you were to ask him, he would probably say you were the only thing that mattered.

He pulled away from your mouth to bury himself in the space between your neck and shoulder. He pressed languid, open-mouth kisses to your neck that made your cheeks burn.

“Been wanting to get my hands on you since you walked to my car,” he told you in between kisses, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

You giggled at this. “Yeah baby?” Was all you managed, already becoming impatient with your need for more more more. “Wanna move to my bed?”

He removed himself from your neck to smile devilishly at you, letting you know he felt the same. “Thought you’d never ask,” he stood, offering you a hand. You hoped he didn’t notice the way you had to steady yourself, feeling sober from the alcohol but positively drunk on him.

You led him to your bedroom, flicking on the dim beside lamp before laying down. You held his hands in yours and tugged, but he remained standing for a moment.

Faintly, you felt embarrassed under his gaze. “What are you doing?” You asked sheepishly.

“Just… lookin’ at you. Pretty thing.”

The simple words did a number on you. It made your heart flutter and you tugged on his hands once more, desperate for his mouth again. This time he obliged and returned to his previous position with your legs slotted within each other.

You continued kissing like you had been on the couch, though now there was a higher sense of urgency. Your breathing had picked up and the kisses had become sloppier, tongues tangled together. As you laid there, you felt a hand slip between the two of you and tug on your blouse.

Sitting up slightly, you pulled the shirt over your head, revealing a sheer, lacy white bra. The way his breath hitched was not lost on you.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, moving his hand to run it along your upper thigh.

Once you’d replied with a breathy yes, please, he moved so he was on up his knees between your legs. He reached up within the skirt and found the top of the tights, then began pulling them along with your panties down your legs.

“So soft,” he murmured when your legs were bare for him.

You lifted your hips for him to pull the skirt off, but he stopped you. “No, leave it on, you look so good in it.”

Once again you found yourself flushed, unable to form proper sentences.

He ducked towards your chest, placing soft kisses on the top of your breast that wasn’t covered by the cups. Resting on one elbow, he moved his free hand to trace up your inner thigh. He was moving infuriatingly slowly, and the irony of the situation was enough to make you laugh. You’d spent all night teasing him, riling him up, only for him to end up getting you embarrassingly wet from his kisses and gentle touches. Though as soon as you felt him brush his middle finger over your center, you didn’t particularly care anymore.

“Fuck, so wet for me already?” He asked, looking up at you.

“What can I say,” you half laughed, half huffed.

He chuckled quietly at how flustered you were before dragging his knuckle through your wetness once more. He repeated this a few times, coating his finger before slowly sliding it into you. You inhaled sharply, and he watched your face with intensity as he moved the digit in and out, in and out. The obscene noise it made only served to make him impossibly harder, his erection straining against his jeans. He added his ring finger, reveling in the way you shuddered and let out a soft moan.

After what felt like an eternity on your end, he removed his fingers gently and offered them to you. Your eyes closed as you sucked on them gently, tasting yourself. When you finished, he stepped off the bed and you propped up on your elbows to watch him.

“Gimme a strip tease,” you mostly joked, head lolling to the side with a grin.

“You wish.” The man responded, tossing his discarded shirt to the side.

You couldn’t help the way you clenched around nothing watching him undo his belt and step out of his jeans. This was far from the first time you’d seen him nude, but every time you did, you were reminded of just how big he is. Free from the confines of his briefs, his cock stood tall and aching, and it was enough to make you feel lightheaded.

He returned to the bed, this time positioning himself so you caged him with your legs. He pushed your skirt up for better access, the fact that it remained on at all making you feel extra naughty. Leaning up to press a decidedly tender kiss compared to the nature of the situation to your mouth, he slid himself into you with a breathy gasp.

You sat like this for a moment, allowing yourself to adjust to the size of him. You locked your eyes onto his and placed your hands on his thick biceps before nodding a go-ahead.

He moved slowly at first, drawing out each pump. “Fuck.” He’d uttered, feeling the way you were so incredibly warm and tight around him.

Once he began picking up the pace, you were unable to contain the borderline-pornographic noises escaping your mouth. He was hitting so deep within you you were seeing stars. You couldn’t help raking your nails along the sides of his shoulders and the top of his back.

“You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?” He panted out. “Wearing that little skirt all night, knowing I’d wanna fuck you the second I saw it.”

You whined in response to the filth spewing from his lips. You loved when Hopper started rambling during sex.

His pace picked up once more, and by now he was drilling into you. The pressure in your lower stomach was starting to build, but you willed yourself you hold off and draw this out as long as you could.

“You know you drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he muttered, a hand slipping under the small of your back to lift your hips more.

With the new angle, you pressed your head further into the pillows. “God-shit, Hop. Feels so good,” you rambled out.

Through his moans you heard a laugh. “I know it does baby. You feel, fuck, feel amazing,” he pressed his forehead to yours.

You moved a hand from his bicep down to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to make your eyes squeeze shut. When he noticed this, you felt his hips stutter and his pace falter.

“Touchin’ yourself for me, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling you even closer with the hand under your back.

“I’m so close baby,” your words come out rushed and breathy. In a different scenario you would’ve made fun of yourself for how corny you sounded, but you didn’t have it in you to care at this point.

He did his best to keep up his pace as he gently nudged your hand off of your clit and replaced it with his thumb. He circled gently, and you felt yourself flutter around him.

“That’s it, let go. I got you.” His tender assurances combined with the overwhelming sensation of his dick and hands were too much.

You came hard around him, a long, drawn out moan leaving your chest. Your back arched up and your vision went white, the only thing grounding you being your death grip on his bicep. He wasn’t far behind, giving you three solid, drawn pumps before finishing deep inside you. He was spewing more filth, though you couldn’t process anything he was saying with how hard you were reeling after your orgasm.

Once you’d both come down, still tangled in each other’s limbs, you laughed quietly.

“So I forgot to ask, did you like my new skirt?”

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Feedback/interactions are always appreciated<3

#jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #hopper stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

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writingmyanxietyaway · 4 years ago

Text

Triangles | Rio - Berlin

Requested by anon: Hi! Love your blog btw. Would you mind doing an rio x reader x berlin imagine, where tge reader is tge same age as rio and tgey have a thing going on and berlin lijes the reader and is jealous. Reader is park of the team and plays hostage. And when they have to undress to their clothes berlin cames uo to reader and orders her to do so. And rio is like super angry, but can't do anything avout it to not reveal their relationship and the fact that reader works with them. Thank you.

Word count: 1.5k

Warning: swearing, angst, mention of blood

Note: hi! thank you so much! i hope this is what you meant! hope you like it, enjoy! x

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‘Vienna, 2 minutes out,’ you heard over your ear piece. You were part of the heist, yet your role was to be a random stranger amongst the other hostages. Every detail, every escape plan, every weapon was discussed with you in the room. El Profesor was aware of the risks only one brave hostage could bring, so you were there to keep things cool if things went sideways.

You were also Rio’s girlfriend. You two had been dating since the start of that year, when you met at a convention for technology. When you met you two hit off immediately and had been dating ever since. Little did you know you’d both be asked to do this job, unknowing of the other. But things got a little complicated when Berlin came into the view. You two had had a love affair a couple of years back, but when you parted ways you promised never to talk about it again.

You glanced around and saw your watch counting down the last minute. You were nervous, excited and a little hesitant all at the same time. You wanted to be part of the action, not sit on the floor for six days, but here you were.

When you heard loads of commotion coming towards you, you felt your heartbeat pick up. It was happening. You saw the red suits come into view and you smirked. Guns were held in the air and screams filled the entrance - the alarms loudly ringing in the background. You stepped back a little, wanting to see your boyfriend one last time before you went to the others. You saw one of them approach you and he quickly lifted his mask to kiss you one last time.

‘Promise you’ll be careful?’ you whispered against his lips. He nodded and smiled at you, placing a hand on your cheek.

‘Always, sugar.’

He pulled you away from behind the stairs but not before pulling his mask back on. You saw Berlin burn holes in your head from the side of the stairs. Was he jealous? As you focussed on your role, you trashed in his grip, playing your role as an innocent visitor. He shoved you to all the other hostages and joined Berlin and Tokio. You faked a few tears here and there and tried to mingle with the others. Some of them were crying, some of them were in complete shock and unable to do anything. You felt slightly bad about traumatising them so badly, but you knew the plan and that was to leave without harming anyone.

It was now a couple of hours later and you noticed they had brought out the red suits, boots and masks. Berlin did his intimidating little talk and you all got a suit. You didn’t want to change in front of him, in front of anyone for that matter. The only man you ever wanted to see your body was Rio. You were a tough girl, but changing in front of people always made you anxious. You caught Rio’s eye when he stood on the stairs, but when Berlin moved in your direction you couldn’t help but desert your attention to him. He stopped in front of you, smirk plastered on his face.

‘Change into your suit, woman,’ he dared. You hated that smirk. What you did all those years ago was a mistake and you were contstantly reminded of that night in your sleep.

‘No,’ you stated, ‘Not here.’

‘Oh, we’ve got ourselves a brave girl on board! Hear that everyone?! This one here thinks she can do whatever she pleases.’ He took his gun and pointed it directly to your stomach. Your stare hardened. Who the fuck did this man think he was?

From the corner of your eye, you saw Rio step forward but Denver quickly held him back. He whispered something in his ear and he turned around.

‘Strip. Now.’ Berlin demanded. You knew you had to, that was the worst part. Being the only one of the hostages not wanting to wear a suit and not get shot would definitely get suspicious. You angrily took of your jacket, your jeans and changed into the suit. You felt embarassed, weak and insecure. That was a dick move and he knew it.

He stepped closer to you when you were done and whispered in your ear, ‘That’s the good girl I know. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, is it?’

You gagged at his words and he quickly disappeared up the stairs. Denver nodded at you and clapped Rio on the back. It had been such a long time since you had felt so vulnerable and for no good reason Berlin kicked you right back to that time. You had to talk to Rio. And quickly.

You were chosen to work in the offices and count the money. Nairobi was the supervisor. It had been more than three days since you had seen Rio and you had to talk to him. When Nairobi passed you, you dropped a wad of cash on the floor and leaned over, catching her attention.

‘I don’t feel good.. Can I please use the restroom?’ you asked her, raising your eyebrows. She nodded and grabbed you by the arm, not before threatening the other women you were working with.

‘I really need to talk to Rio. Please, Nairobi,’ you begged. She quickly nodded and went to get Rio. Pacing back and forth, you anxiously bit your nails. When the door opened, your heart dropped to the floor.

‘What did they do to you?’ you gasped, running towards him. You held his head in your hands as you inspected his face. He had a bruise on his cheek and a black eye. ‘Please tell me who did this to you, Ani.’

He looked at you through his lashes and winced when you stroked your thumb over his bruise. He looked completely broken, bags under his eyes and shrunken posture.

‘It was Berlin, wasn’t it?’ you asked. You didn’t even have to ask, you already knew. That bastard couldn’t let you go, could he? You huffed and pushed passed Rio. ‘Wait here.’

Berlin was eating when you stomped through the door. He didn’t notice you at first, but when you smacked your hand on the table, everyones attention went to you.

‘To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?’ he smuggly asked.

‘You know exactly why. What the fuck were you thinking? Smashing his face in, just because you can’t let something go that happened years ago? How old are you? 10?’ you sneered. ‘If you’re jealous, just say that. But hurting someone else because you can’t talk about your feelings is fucking ridiculous.’

The room fell silent, your speech even silencing Denver. They didn’t know you had met before the heist and especially about your relationship. You saw his tough façade fade as his eyes flickered from your furious face to the sandwich he was eating. He knew it was wrong and he regret it the moment he saw how broken Rio was. The young adult was terrified and it made him realise he had turned into the man he promised not to be anymore.

‘You seriously don’t have anything to say about this?’ you huffed. ‘You haven’t changed a fucking bit, Andrès. Stay the fuck away from me and Rio or you’ll end up just like him.’

When you left, Berlin felt humiliated. Not that you’d called him out like that, but humiliated to have let his anger take over his common sense. You had every right to respond the way you did, he would have done the same for you. Why did he feel so jealous? He was the one who broke things off, not you. He’d thrown you away like many of his other treasures, yet he couldn’t let you go. Rio was way better for you. He treated you like a princess, talked to you about his feelings and could give you a much better life than he could have given you.

‘So, wanna explain what the fuck just happened?’ Denver carefully asked. Berlin cracked his knuckled and took a sharp breath. They weren’t supposed to know and frankly, it was none of their business either. So he shoved his chair back and went looking for the both of you. The least you deserved was an apology.

‘- a dick.. he won’t do it again, I’ll make sure of that,’ he heard you say soflty. Rio hissed when you wiped away a small drop of blood just under his eye and you remorsefully sighed. ‘I’m sorry, I should have told you.’

‘No, I’m the one who should apologise,’ Berlin stated, stepping into the room. He could see Rio flinch and your stare harden. ‘I’m sorry. I let my anger cloud my reality and I snapped. There was a point where I was you Rio and I regret to this day that I let her go. I got jealous because I realised she was everything that I needed and more, but I saw that too late. I was immature and for that I want to apologise.’

Your eyes softened and you thankfully nodded at him. You turned your attention to Rio who held out his hand to Berlin. Berlin took it and shook his hand firmly.

‘Don’t let her go, Rio. She’s too precious for that.’

.. .. .. .. ..

Berlin Taglist

@nkjktk - @michaellangdonenthusiast - @hamiltonsofcrap - @nicke0115 - @pinkrapunzel

#la casa de papel #lcdp imagine #berlin x reader #berlin imagine #pedro alonso #lcdp x reader #lcdp #miguel herran #rio x reader #rio imagine

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fanfic-archive · 4 years ago

Text

Meeting the Baron (4/7)

Chapter 4. The Great Escape

Summary: As the Wakandans come for Zemo, it seems that you’re the only one who doesn’t mind his presence. Maybe that’s why you act against your better judgement. While Sam and Bucky make plans to return to the States, you are left with a decision to make.

Word Count: 2451

After the failed confrontation with Karli, you, Sam, and Bucky returned to the safehouse with Zemo. Bucky had disappeared into another room, Sam was busy on his computer, and Zemo was laying on the couch with a damp washcloth over his eyes and forehead, recovering from the blow he had taken.

“How’s your head?” you asked gently as you sat down beside the Baron.

“Better than you might expect” he hummed, his hands folded on his stomach.

“I got you a drink” you told him as you took one of his hands in yours, pressing the glass of whiskey into his palm, and he took it with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Now, let me have a look” you sighed, shifting closer before you gently peeled the washcloth off of his face.

Zemo watched you intently as you examined the spot where he had been hit, he took the moment to examine your features. How your brow furrowed slightly in concern for him, how your lips pressed together in a thin line, he assumed in distaste for what had happened.

“I thought it would be much more bruised” you confessed, gently touching your fingertips to the place the shield had hit. His brow furrowed in discomfort but it didn’t seem to bother him too much. You were surprisingly glad to see that he was alright.

“Sweet of you to be concerned about me, Meine geliebte” Zemo spoke barely louder than a whisper, not because it was some sort of secret but because the conversation was between the two of you, not for others.

“Never said I was concerned” you murmured as you placed the washcloth back in place, covering his eyes to get a break from his piercing gaze.

“Tell me, if you were offered the serum, would you take it?” Zemo asked as he removed the washcloth completely, placing it on the coffee table beside you both. Well, he was clearly fine.

“No” you answered promptly.

“No hesitation, impressive” he nodded in approval. “Now, why?” he questioned further.

“…it wouldn’t do me any real favours” you shrugged. In all honestly, you just didn’t see the need. It came with more pressure than you were happy to take on. He just hummed at your answer, seemingly considering it.

“Hey, stop being weird you two” Sam spoke up, interrupting you both. He trusted you, he didn’t even consider there being something between you and the Baron, but he thought it was weird that you were talking quietly between yourselves. You just pulled a face at your friend, making him laugh before returning to his laptop.

Zemo sat up as Bucky entered the room, the latter heading to the kitchen to make himself a drink. It was then that the front doors burst open, John and Lemar walking in.

“Alright. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m ordering you to turn him over” John demanded, pointing at Zemo.

“Hey, slow your roll” Sam stood up, walking over to the soldier. Zemo placed his drink down as you both stood from the couch, knowing that John wasn’t going to give in easily.

“Let’s be clear. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re running in here is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today” Sam reminded him, gesturing back to Zemo, “we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh?” John asked. “Should I put down the shield? Make it fair?” he taunted, making Sam scoff.

Before the two of could fight, some sort of spear was sent flying through the room, impaling the pillar between them. The Wakandans had also come for Zemo and you sensed how he tensed up, clearly seeing them as more of a threat than Walker. He was right to do so.

“Release him to us now” one of the three women ordered.

“Hi. John Walker. Captain America” John introduced himself to them but none of them seemed to care in the slightest. “Well, uh, let’s put down the point sticks and we can talk this through, huh?” he attempted to reason but it just made you cringe.

“Hey, John, take it easy. You might wanna fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje” Sam rightfully warned.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here” John informed them, making you cringe again.

You had never met the group of women but you already knew not to mess with them, especially with what you knew about Bucky’s time in Wakanda.

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be” one of the women corrected the soldier.

“I like them” you whispered to Zemo, who simply gave you a pointed look. They were here to arrest him, remember?

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot” John made the stupid move of clasping a hand over her shoulder and that was enough for her to act, sending him to the floor with ease. Next thing you knew, John and Lemar were fighting the three women and losing quickly.

“Oh, I really like them” you chuckled to yourself.

“They are here to imprison me” Zemo reminded you, making you go quiet…while still enjoying seeing John get his ass kicked.

“We should do something” Sam sighed but didn’t make any move to do anything.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky taunted, making you smirk to yourself.

“Bucky…” Sam gave him an exasperated look.

“Fine” Bucky rolled his eyes before stepping in to stop John from being killed, Sam following and going to help Lemar.

You and Zemo watched for a moment, nobody in the room was paying attention to either of you and it gave you a realisation.

“…go” you whispered so only Zemo could hear you, but instead of responding he just looked down at you questioningly. “Go” you repeated. “I know you must have another way outta here. So just go before they notice” you looked up at him this time, showing him that you were serious.

“You could come with me” he told you, definitely surprising you but you didn’t have the time to think about the offer.

“Because that’s not suspicious at all” you scoffed, shaking your head at him. “Go, Zemo” the order was soft, but had a sternness behind it.

“Goodbye, Meine geliebte” Zemo said softly, and you just nodded. You watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, nodding at you before he closed the doors.

Taking a breath, you joined the fight, catching the handle of a spear before it hit Sam. If you were in the fight, you could deny knowing where Zemo went, plus the men weren’t holding up too well against the three women.

The fight came to an abrupt end when the women knew they had won the fight, having leverage over all of you, having you all on the ground. And they discovered that Zemo was missing just as quickly, carelessly leaving now that they had no work here.

Sam helped you up to your feet before you both walked over to Bucky, Lemar heading over to John. The three of you headed over to the bathroom, seeing that there had been an escape tunnel of some kind under the bath. Zemo was gone and by now, he could be anywhere. The man worked quick.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo” Sam shook his head.

“I can” was all Bucky said. “Come on” he nodded, reminding you both that there was still work to be done.

John and Lemar had left before the three of you, gone off to who knows where. It wasn’t long before Sam got a call from Sarah, informing him that Karli had contacted her. And so, the three of you went to meet with Karli once again.

As usual, it didn’t go so simply. There was a fight with the Flag Smashers and of course John and Lemar showed up. The real trouble started when Karli accidently killed Lemar, John just saw red and went after one of the Flag Smashers, brutally killing him with the Shield right in the middle of public and on camera. By the time the three of you got to them, it was too late. All the three of you could do was look on in disbelief and defeat.

After the scene, John went back inside and the three of you followed, wanting to talk him down and convince him to hand the shield over. But he snapped, refusing to hand it over, refusing to stand down, instead deciding to fight the three of you. It was a long, merciless fight but in the end, John lost, left on the floor with his injuries while the three of you steadied yourselves on your feet, Sam deciding to take the shield with him.

Finally, the three of you stepped out onto a quiet street, not knowing where the Flag Smashers had taken refugee now and not sure what would happen to John back in the States. There was nothing to do until…well, until there was something to do.

“I think we head back to the States, lay low until there’s a next step to make” Sam suggested. The best plan was to just go home for the time being, regroup when needed. Bucky agreed, nodding at the idea. “What about Zemo?” the Falcon asked, remembering the escaped criminal.

“The Wakandans will deal with him” Bucky decided, knowing that they were more than capable. “So, back to the States?” he asked but you attention was stolen by a familiar figure standing at the end of the street.

You froze, taking in the man. The familiar coat, hands clasped behind his back. A man that you thought would be long gone by now, a man that neither of your friends seemed to notice.

“Looks like it” Sam nodded, making you glance back at the two men to agree. When you looked back towards the end of the street, the man was gone. But he had been there, you knew you weren’t imagining it.

“I think I’m going to hang back” you spoke up, making a rash decision that you hadn’t really thought through at all. Rightfully so, they both looked confused. “I think I need to clear my head, maybe take that little vacation while we wait for the next disaster to strike” you explained.

“Where will you go?” Bucky asked.

“Back to the safehouse for now, and figure it out from there” you shrugged. “Just make sure to call me if you need something” you added, wanting them to know you would be there as fast as you could if something went wrong.

“If that’s what you want” Sam nodded, not seeing a problem with it.

“Keep in touch” Bucky told you.

“I promise” you nodded, smiling at them both.

You gave them both a hug before they walked off to wherever they were getting a flight from. Once they were out of sight, you turned on your heel and jogged down to the end of the road, looking both ways down the joining street in an attempt to find what you were looking for.

Along the sidewalk on the right was a familiar black car, so you started to walk towards it. As you got closer, the back door opened and out stepped Zemo. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing, that he was even still in the country.

“Y/n” he greeted you, not seeming surprised at all.

“I thought you would be long gone by now” you confessed.

“I left something behind” the Baron informed you, the way he looked at you kept you silent. You weren’t sure how to respond to that. “Sam and James are heading back to the US, no?” he asked.

“They are” you nodded.

“And you are not?” it wasn’t a question; it was more of a statement.

“…needed to clear my head” you shrugged, using the same lame excuse you had used with Sam and Bucky. The truth was that you had every intention of returning to the States before you saw Zemo standing at the end of the street, and he knew that.

“Well, it just so happens that I know the perfect place for that” he smiled.

“Of course you do” you laughed a little to yourself, still not able to believe the situation you had found yourself in.

“Care to join me?” Zemo asked, both of you already knowing the answer.

You knew you shouldn’t, you should walk away, find Sam and Bucky, tell them that you changed your mind. And yet, you went searching for him, you stood before him right now. You both knew the answer to his question as soon as you told your friends to go ahead without you.

“Isn’t that why I’m standing here right now?” you asked, making him smile again.

He stepped to the side, letting you climb into the car before climbing with you. Once the car door was shut, the driver pulled away from the curb and headed for whatever destination Zemo had given him.

“You’re hurt” Zemo stated, eyeing the bruise along your cheekbone. He was a difficult man to read, even now you couldn’t tell if he was angry, concerned, or just stating a fact. He was good at keeping a stoic expression.

“We got into a little fight with Captain America. He took the serum…his hits landed harder than they used too. Honestly, I got off lightly considering we were dealing with Super Soldiers” you told him, bringing a hand up to touch your fingertips against the bruise, hissing quietly at the tenderness.

“Walker did this to you?” Zemo asked, his expression hardening, “are you hurt anywhere else?”

“Along with some of the Flag Smashers. But it’s just some bruises, I’ll be fine” you assured him but he didn’t seem convinced. “No broken bones, no bleeding, just a whole lot of bruising” as more time passed the more you began to realise the extent of your injuries, your whole body feeling sore. You had probably bruised your ribs, considering how much it was hurting to move now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“We will make sure you rest when we reach our destination” Zemo assured you, untensing his jaw.

“Thank you, Zemo” you let out a small sigh of relief. You felt safer than you should when you were with Zemo, something about him just told you that everything was going to be okay. He said you would have time to rest and heal, and you believed him.

“Anytime” he gave you a small, charming smile, “oh, and Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Call me Helmut”

Meeting the Baron Taglist:

@viviace @hannahbal-the-fannibal @multiplums @aliceblxck

(Just ask to be added!)

#Helmut Zemo x reader #Baron Zemo x reader #Zemo x reader #helmut zemo #zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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La Cuervo - Epilogue

We’ve come to the end of the story of Angel and Nina. Thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged and liked. Every one of you inspired me to keep writing. Thank you for reading.

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambiguous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

Epilogue.

It was an especially cloudy day for a bike-ride. He looked up at the sky, and prayed to his mother it wouldn’t rain. It was already too cold for short sleeves, and he regretted not having listened when he’d been told to put on a hoodie under his cut that morning. The precious cargo behind him shifted in her seat. The bump pressed against his back was restless as well, he felt; from the tiny kicks he was receiving to his kidneys. “You alright?”, Angel called over his shoulder. “Yeah… she’s just antsy…”, Nina replied. “We’re almost there”, he smiled. “Good. I gotta pee”. “Shit. Again?”. “Blame your daughter”, she chuckled. “Be nice to your mama, chiquita!”, Angel chuckled, addressing the cantaloupe-sized treasure in his amor’s belly.

Charming was a nice place. He could understand why Nina loved it there, but the stares their caravan was getting made him uncomfortable. The people in the small town looked at him and his brother’s as if they were gods – which in and of itself he didn’t mind – but it was a lot different than what he was used to from Santo Padre, where the Mayans were accepted and even feared; but not looked to as saviors and protectors, as the Sons of Anarchy were in Charming. His discomfort came from realizing that he’d like to be viewed as the Sons were here, back home. Becoming a Mayan had originally been about the pussy and the bikes; but lately, he felt the need to make a difference to the people in his community. Help the people who needed it; like the undocumented immigrants and the people trying to cross the border for a better life. Nina was doing what she could for those the club had gotten over so far, but it was still something they needed to keep quiet about – especially if he wanted to avoid seeing his daughter grow up from behind a plexiglass window.

They drove up to what looked like a warehouse-building; but he knew was the home of CaraCara. Pulling up next to EZ’s bike, he smiled as his brother gave Nina a hand to get off his own. “Centre of gravity seems a bit off, hermanita”, EZ chuckled. “Screw you… And move! I gotta pee…”, she sneered, and sprang for the nearest door of the warehouse. The brand-new Mayan patch moved up and down on EZ’s back, as he laughed; watching her run. Angel smiled at the sight, before patting his brother’s shoulder. “My kids got some kick”, he said. “Reina del baile, huh?”, EZ smiled. “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on her when she’s older”. “She ain’t going out dancing until she’s as old as pap’”, Angel declared. “Yo! Are you two gonna keep staring at the pregnant lady run; or are you gonna come inside?”, Bishop called after them. The two of them grinned, and followed their patch-brothers inside the large building.

They were greeted by Chibs, Happy and Tig; the latter having to tear himself away from a strikingly tall woman, to come welcome them. The woman stayed by the bar in the large room, talking quietly with a pretty blonde woman behind it. Once the initial back and forth between the presidents were over, Chibs turned to Angel, and pulled him in for a friendly half-hug. “Did you forget someone in San Pad?”, the SAMCRO president asked. “Nah, man. She’s going to the bathroom every 45 minutes”, Angel chuckled. “Filip!”, Nina called out from behind them, and Angel turned around to watch her make a waddling run over to her Charming brothers. Once they’d all embraced, Happy looked down at Nina’s belly. “You did this?”, he asked Angel. “So she tells me”, Angel grinned. Nina punched his shoulder, making him have to take a few steps back. Getting knocked up had oddly enough made her even stronger than usual. “You knew I was pregnant”, she said. “Yeah, but…”. Chibs blew out a deep breath. “You’re huge, luv’!”. “I’m not that big…”, Nina whimpered. Angel walked up behind her, and kissed her temple. “You’re beautiful, mami”, he smiled, before looking to the Sons. “You told me to get her to quit smoking”, he grinned, and rubbed his hand protectively over Nina’s bump. “Yeah, but it seems like you took an alternative approach to that, man”, Tig chuckled.

Nina was shifting on her feet. “You gotta pee again?”, Angel asked. “No… Just gotta sit down. My feet are killing me”. He led her over to sit on the couch that looked the least like it had been used as a prop, in one of the movies produced by CaraCara. The tall woman and the blonde came over to greet Nina, and the three of them hugged each other tightly; with both of the other women stroking Nina’s belly, and cooing at it. “I’m Venus”, the tall woman said, and reached out her hand to him. “And I’m guessing you’re Angel… That’s a lovely name”. “Stop flirting with my old man”, Nina grinned. “You got your own!”. “I sure do!”, Venus said, and held out her hand; proudly displaying an engagement ring. “Oh my god!”, Nina exclaimed. “Congrats!”. She hugged Venus tightly again. “I’m Lyla”, the blonde said, and smiled at Angel. “Nice to meet you”, he replied.

Angel let the three women catch up, and walked over to talk to the other men. “The estrogen-level is through the roof in here!”, Creeper grinned. “That’s just the smell of cheap perfume and artificial sperm”, Chibs said. “Artificial?”, Gilly said. “You’d be surprised how many porn-actors find it hard to produce actual cum, after 13 takes; no matter how hot the actress”, Happy laughed. “I don’t think I’d find it that hard”, Coco smirked. The door opened, and a sea of beautiful women entered the warehouse. “Feel free to give it a shot”, Tig said to the wide-eyed Mayan.

“I thought this was supposed to be a business-meeting. Not a party”, Taza said. “Who says we can’t mix the two?”, Chibs said. “But you’re right. We should get to it”. Tig turned towards the three women on the couch. “Muffin, it’s time!”, he called out. Nina frowned, but let herself be pulled to her feet by the two others. Angel sprang over to take her arm. “Are you ok, cuervo?”, he muttered. “Yeah. Let’s just get this over with”, Nina sighed.

---

“Thanks for coming all the way up here”, Chibs said from the head of the table, in the smaller room, connected to the studio. “Thank you for agreeing not to do it at your clubhouse”, Bishop said. “This one’s getting too heavy to get up the stairs behind the ice-cream shop”. He nodded towards Nina. “Go fuck yourself, Bish’”, she grunted from next to Angel. Bishop sent her a warm smile, before meeting Angel’s eyes. They both knew he wasn’t wrong. Nina had trouble even getting out of bed at this point; which Angel didn’t mind. Pregnancy sex had been even hotter than he’d imagined. “Nina’s twelve months are over. We think it’s time to discuss what happens from here on out”, Chibs said. Angel shifted in his seat, and cleared his throat. “I think it’s obvious what’s gonna happen”, he said. “She’s staying in San Pad”. He put his hand on Nina’s bump, and stroked it. “Charming is her home”, Happy said. “She’s still SAMCRO family”. “She’s Mayan family too… And she’s got my family growing in her”, Angel growled. “We need niña down south”, Coco said. “She’s the only one of the girls back home who knows how to make a proper whiskey-sour”, Riz shrugged. “What about her life here? Her friends, her job at the shop?”, Tig said.

“What about we ask Nina what she wants?”, Nina exclaimed with a huff. “I’m not property…”. Chibs and Bishop looked solemnly at each other for a long moment, before both of them broke into large grins. “We’re just fucking with you, mija!”, Bishop said. All the Mayans and Sons broke out in laughter, and Angel had to chew his lips to stop. “We didn’t come up here to talk about you coming back, ma’”, he said. Nina scowled deeply at him; giving him that cute look that made him both cringe from the promise of being chewed out later on, and simultaneously made him want to rip off her clothes, and screw her brains out. Nina was hot when she was angry. “Then, why?”, she growled.

Angel turned in his seat, and helped Nina turn in hers; with a firm hold of her hips. “I can’t marry you, without permission from your brothers… All of them”, he said. Nina’s eyes widened. “You… what?”. “You got my kid in there. And I love you”, Angel said, and laid a hand on her belly. “I wanna marry you… If you’re good with that”. Nina seemed – for once – speechless. His heart jumped up into his throat. “Nina? Mami, talk to me…”. “I’m… yeah. Uh huh… We can do that”, she squeaked. Angel let out a sigh of relief. “Thank fuck… You had me worried”, he smiled. He saw a tear at the corner of Nina’s eye, and wiped it away quickly.

He put his hand to the back of her head, and pulled her in for a kiss; when someone cleared their throat. “We haven’t agreed yet”, Tig said. “He needs all of our go-aheads”, Hank said. “All of your brothers; remember?”. “We gotta vote on this shit”, EZ smirked. For a short moment, Angel considered smacking his brother across the head, but he decided against it. He needed a unanimous yes, and EZ was actually one of the few patches he was concerned about voting against him. “Then let’s do it”, he said. Chibs raised a brow at him. “You; get out”, he said. “What?”. “Salir de la habitación, amigo”, the SAMCRO president reiterated. Nina shot him a death-glare, and squeezed Angel’s hand. “You said your peace; now let the rest of us decide if we’re gonna agree to this unholy union”. Angel got to his feet and was about to help Nina up. “Not you, sweetheart”, Taza said. “We need your take on this as well”. Angel swallowed thickly, and looked at Nina. She gave him a warm smile, which didn’t reach her eyes, and he had to force his feet to move, to leave the room.

Once outside, Angel closed the door behind him. The large studio space had filled up with hangarounds – male and female – and pornstars he recognized from movies he’d watched in the past. The one’s he’d enjoy these days weren’t CaraCara productions, because Nina didn’t like watching people she knew as friends having sex. Instead, they’d watch the mini-productions they made themselves. Lyla came over to him with a cold beer, and patted his shoulder. “The party’s gonna be pretty PG for now. Wendy’s coming in with the boys for a few hours”, she said. “After that, I can’t promise there won’t be full frontal nudity”. Angel chuckled. “I didn’t know her nephews were coming”, he said. “It was a surprise. They haven’t been back in Charming since…”. Lyla cut herself off, and seemed to be suppressing a bad memory. “Nina’s brother… Jackson. He was a good guy, huh?”. “The best… And he loved her”, Lyla said. “If it wasn’t for the fact that they didn’t look alike, you’d never guess they weren’t blood-related”. “They were alike?”. “Uh huh”, Lyla nodded fervently. “Like two peas in a pod. And she was as protective of him as he was of her”.

A dirty-blonde woman came in to the warehouse, with two boys in tow. The youngest had dark hair, while his brother was blonde. The blonde boy – in his pre-teens – ran over to Venus, and sprang into her arms; clearly enjoying resting his head against her ample breasts. The brown-haired boy – about 7 or 8 years old – clung to who Angel figured was Wendy. She shot Venus a smile, and walked over to Lyla. “This him, then?”, Wendy asked, and gave Angel a once over. “Yup”, Lyla said. “Angel, this is Wendy; and the cutie-pie down here…”. She crouched down, and ruffled the boy’s hair. “This is Thomas. Jackson’s youngest”. “Casanova over there is Abel”, Wendy grinned. Abel stood as wide-eyed as Coco had, at the sight of the beautiful women surrounding him. “And I’m Wendy”. “Good to meet you”, Angel said. He stuck out his hand to Thomas. “Hey, man. I’m Angel”. “Are you the one who knocked up my aunt Nina?”, Thomas asked. Angel was taken aback at the kid’s bluntness. “I… Yeah”, he said. Thomas narrowed his eyes at him. “Are you gonna marry her? My dad married my other mom after I was born. You’re supposed to marry someone if you get them pregnant”. “I’m planning to”, Angel said. “If you’ll let me”. “I’ll think about it”, Thomas said.

Both Wendy and Lyla laughed, and then gave each other a warm hug. “If you wanna surprise her, you should probably go into my office”, Lyla said. “She’ll be out in a few”. Abel looked at the people in the room. “I wanna stay out here”, he declared; as fascinated as his brother was at all the women. “You’re just like your dad”, Wendy sighed. “Go on, Tommy. I got movies in there for you”, Lyla said, before looking at Wendy. “Disney”, she added. Wendy smiled, and dragged Thomas away. She nabbed Abel out of the lap of a scantily clad brunette; and the three of them went into a back office, in the corner of the building.

Angel looked at the door to where the meeting regarding the future of his family was being held behind, and felt his nerves starting to get to him. They’d taken too long already; the vote shouldn’t be that difficult. He took out his pack of smokes, and was about to light up, when Lyla put a hand on his lower arm. “Please go outside for that. I’m trying to keep the studio smoke-free”. “Yeah, sure… Sorry”, Angel muttered, and hurried towards the exit.

Once outside he began pacing back and forth. One cigarette turned in to two, which then turned in to three; and still no one had come to tell him what the decision of the clubs was. He was about to say fuck it, and stomped out his smoke, to walk back inside, and demand an answer; when Nina came outside. She walked over to him with a solemn expression on her face; and in that moment, Angel’s heart broke. “I’m sorry…”, she said. Angel felt rage building in him. Here was his endgame – the one woman he would ever be able to fully give himself to, and the mother of his child – and he couldn’t have her, because of a bunch of fucking bikers. He grabbed Nina’s hand, and tried pulling her towards his bike. “Fuck this shit. We’re out of here. We’ll go north… Like Canada, or something. I’ll marry you there… I ain’t letting them…”. Nina stayed in place, unmoving. “No, Angel… I’m sorry… I know your pap’ would expect me to; but I can’t wear white… It wouldn’t feel right”.

Angel’s jaw dropped, and he looked at Nina with wide eyes. “They said yes?”, he croaked. “Yes…”, Nina said below her breath. “I mean, Happy wanted our first-born as payment; but I told him to shove it”. Angel cupped her face, and stared deep into her eyes, looking for any sign of deceit; finding none. “We’re gonna get married?”, he said. Nina nodded. “We’re gonna get married, mami!”. he threw his arms around her waist, and lifted her up, spinning her around. “Careful!”, Nina giggled. He set her back on the ground, and pulled her in for a deep kiss; feeling like life itself came from the taste of her mouth. “I love you, cuervo”. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Te amo, so… fucking… much!”, he said, leaving kisses on Nina’s lips between each word. “I love you too”, she smiled.

Angel remembered something, and grabbed for the item in his pocket, he’d been keeping there, since his pap’ had given it to him a few days earlier. “Here”, he said, and held out the ring. “This was my mam’s”. Nina took the ring from him, and smiled. “Thank you…”, she said. She held it to her finger, before looking up at him. “Wait, did you wanna…? Or should I just…?”. Angel took her hand in his, and together, they put the ring on her left ring-finger. He pressed another deep kiss to her lips, and then got on his knees; putting his hands on either side of her belly. “I love you, chiquita. You’re the best thing to happen to me since your mama”. He kissed Nina’s tummy, just above her navel, and turned his ear against it, listening to the other love of his life moving around in there.

“Are you two finished?”, Chibs called from the doorway. “Someone’s come to see you, little sister”. Nina frowned in confusion, and Angel smiled brightly; getting to his feet again. He led her in front of her, with his hands on her hips. “Try not to give birth right this moment, mama”, he whispered in her ear, when Lyla opened the door to the office, and Abel and Thomas came out. “Oh… Oh, my god!”, Nina cried out, and ran as fast as she could over to her two nephews. She kissed both of their foreheads, and each boy wiped off the kisses in childish disgust, while she hugged them. “You’re so big!”, Nina croaked, before turning to Wendy, and hugging her. Angel looked on with a full heart, as both of the boys took turns touching her belly.

EZ came up next to him, and patted his back. “Congratulations, Angel”, he said. Angel turned, and gave his brother a warm hug. “Thanks, man…”, he said.

---

A little while later, Angel was seated next to his fiancée on the couch. Someone had produced a box of old photographs of club-parties through the ages. Nina was groaning in embarrassment, as Chibs held out a picture of herself and him, where the Son was holding up his fingers in a cross at Nina, who was sporting a large pimple on her forehead. “The Creature of the Black Lagoon!”, Chibs laughed. “Funny…”, Nina smiled sarcastically, and ripped the photo out of his hands. Angel snatched it from her, and put it in his cut pocket. “I’m keeping this, cuervo”. “Why?”, she frowned. “Blackmail… Maybe you’ll stop trying to cook for me”. “Kiss my ass”, she retorted. “Gladly”, Angel said, and kissed her temple.

Nina picked up an envelope full of pictures, and pulled them out, to look through them. “What’s this?”, she said. Angel grabbed the pile of photographs. A grin spread on his face. The telltale patch of the Mayan mask sprang into his eyes, on the back of a biker; who’d turned his face towards the camera. It was Bishop; who was sporting a shorter beard, but a no less intimidating mustache. “Wow, this was years ago…”, he chuckled. “San Bernardino, right?”, he asked Chibs. “Yeah”, the president nodded. Nina studied the pictures, as Angel flipped them. “What’re the Mayans doing there? Weren’t you rivals?”. Looking at the date in the bottom corner of the picture, Angel shook his head. “Nah. This was just after we became allies. I think this was one of my first parties as a prospect. It was like a club-mixer thing, with a couple of charters from each side, meeting up, and getting wasted in the name of peace…”

He flicked through some more pictures, before reaching one with a tall bearded man in a beanie; a goofy looking biker with a mohawk; and a chubby man, with unruly, curly hair. Angel noticed Nina’s face light up in something resembling recognition. “SAMCRO?”, Angel asked. Nina nodded. “Opie, Juice and Bobby”, she said, smiling softly. “You said you were there?”. “Yeah… I think so”. Angel flicked through some more photographs, and pulled a picture out from near the bottom of the pile. He laughed out loud. “Shit, yeah… Look at that dumbass prospect staring at the camera. He don’t know shit yet…”.

A younger version of himself – though not by many years – was pictured with a tray of shots in hand, looking drunk and smiling goofily, while getting ready to serve a group of Mayans and Sons, who were seated at a table, in the middle of a poker-game. Angel looked happy just to be there, and the prospect flash on his chest looked brand new. “Fuck, man… Look at that hair…!”, he chuckled. He looked at Nina again, expecting her to laugh along with him; but saw that her eyes were full of tears. She was staring at a blonde man; who was seated by the table, shooting the camera a relaxed grin, and reaching for one of the glasses on Angel’s tray. “What’s wrong? My hair don’t look that stupid", Angel said, letting Nina take the photograph from his hands. “Mami? Do you know this guy?”. Angel looked down at the picture with wide eyes. “I remember him… Some big deal in SOA, right…?”. “Jax…”, Nina breathed. “This is him…”. “That’s your brother?”, Angel almost gasped. “I can’t believe I actually met the guy". “Do you remember him?”, Nina asked hopefully.

Angel dug through his memories, wanting nothing but to please her with a heartwarming story. “I was pretty wasted…”, he admitted. “But I remember he was talking about his kids…”. Nina nodded solemnly, seemingly sad, that she couldn’t get anything else out of him. He put his arm around her, and kissed her forehead. Chibs reached across the table, and took the picture. He looked down at it and chuckled. “Of course you don’t remember…”, he said. “But I can’t believe I fucking forgot!”. “What?”, Angel asked. “You were driving that piece of shit Suzuki, and thought you’d get away with sitting on Jackson’s Super Glide, for a picture”. The memory began dawning on Angel, and he instantly cringed. “He caught you, and knocked your fucking lights out! Peace was almost off because of that shit…”. Taza, who’d been chatting with Tig, took the picture from Chibs, and smiled down at it; before handing it back to Angel. “Don’t you remember Angel? We put another three months on your year as prospect for that”.

A clear laughter broke through the sound of the music, and the talking crowd. Angel turned and looked at Nina, whose face was contorted in glee. “Jax told me about that! How some no-name prospect rubbed up on his bike”, she said. “I had to put him in his place… I got him a beer when no one was watching, though”. “Yeah…”, Angel said, letting the corners of his lips rise in a slight smile. "I remember now. He seemed like a good guy”. “He was…”, Nina said. Her brows furrowed for a moment, before she met his eyes. “Do you…? I want to go see him”. Angel had to think for a moment, before he realized what she was saying. “Yeah… Of course”, he said. “You wanna go now?”. Nina nodded fervently, but seemingly nervous that he’d say no.

Angel put the picture in his cut pocket, to keep safe; then got to his feet, and pulled Nina up to stand. “Let’s go”, he said. He looked at the others around the table, and gave them a half smile. “I still need one more person’s blessing”.

---

The sun was about to go down, when they made it to the cemetery. Nina was holding on so hard to Angel’s hand, as they walked down the rows of grave-stones, that he was sure she’d leave marks; but he didn’t say anything – strangely nervous at the situation, and needing her support as much as she needed his. Nina smiled at a few grave-stones they passed, with names like Winston, Knowles and Munson. Angel noticed another stone, with the name John Teller engraved on it. He felt the urge to nod respectfully at it, as Nina stopped for a few seconds, to brush some dead leaves from it.

“It’s up here”, she said in a whisper, and pulled him with her, to a large stone with the Sons of Anarchy A, over the name Jackson Nathaniel Teller. Nina kneeled down in front of it, and held her brother’s helmet in her lap. Giving up on the fight on whether she should use it or not long ago, Angel had added some extra padding to it for her; so that it would at least be safer, than it had been before. “Hi, Jax…”, Nina said. “It’s been a while… I’m sorry about that, but I’ve been kinda busy”. She rubbed her belly protectively. “This is Angel”, she said, and looked up at him, with a warm smile. Angel cleared his throat, unsure what to do. “Hi…”, he muttered. “Yeah, I know… But he’s got a cool bike”, Nina chuckled. Angel frowned in confusion, but decided against commenting on her words. “I kept my promise after all. I’m happy. And everyone is safe… At least, as safe as they can be, as outlaw bikers…”.

She sat quietly for a long moment, and Angel kneeled down next to her; putting an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her check, and tasted the salty taste of her tears on his lips. “You ok?”, he whispered. Nina looked at him, and nodded; a smile on her lips. “Happy tears”, she said, and looked back at the stone. “I went back to school. I’m taking classes to become a paralegal… I wanna try to help the undocumented people the Mayans are moving through the tunnels”. “And she is”, Angel cut in. “She’s doing good work with what she knows, already”. Nina smiled embarrassedly for a moment, before continuing. “I’ve had to take a little break though, ‘cuz of the baby… It’s kind of hard to keep up with online classes, when you gotta pee every 45 minutes. But once she’s here, I‘ll be able to go back part time… I think I’ve found my path, and I have someone holding my hand while I walk it. And we’ve got have a large family – ourlarge family – to support us, whatever might get in our way”.

They were quiet for a moment longer; while Nina brushed her fingertips over the helmet in her lap. “I’ll be ok now, Jax. I promise…”. She lifted the helmet, and pressed a kiss to it, before placing it on the ground in front of the gravestone. She looked at Angel, and wiped her eyes. “Let’s go”.

Angel got to his feet, and went behind Nina, to lift her up to stand. Hand in hand, they began walking back towards the parking lot. “Wait a sec…”, Angel said, and halted. “What?”, Nina said. He pressed a short kiss to her lips. “I’ll be right back”.

He walked back to Jackson’s grave. “Thanks, man… For everything”, he said. He kissed his fingers, and pressed them to the stone; before turning around, and walking back towards to his woman, his daughter, and their future together.

The End.

---

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #ez reyes #coco cruz #sons of anarchy

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doctor-plagueis · 4 years ago

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RWBY Booty Tier List

Hi I said it would happen so now it's gonna happen, time to rate asses and explain why I gave them that rating...

(also they are in order from flattest to phattest)

[This took way too long (T-T) ]

Starting with D TIER Aka Flat as fuck

Raven: Ya go to the lowest tier in D tier ya all-tits-no-ass having ass, you deadbeat fucko (I really don't like parents who leave their children, how'd you guess?).

Weiss : Sorry girl but even with all your dance training, your Sperm donor's DNA is in you, if it was just your mom's DNA you'd rocket up to A TIER, still more ass than Raven tho, which says a lot about Raven since Weiss is as flat as a wooden plank (sorry @naughtyweiss your girl has no ass).

All of team NDGO: these bitches show up once or twice, and, in the novels they do something bad? I didn't read it, but they like sacrifice some people to the Grimm or something? Anyways they have almost no ass too little to actually matter.

C TIER Aka Too much muscle

Pyrrha : Sorry unbeatable girl your life style is just too healthy, with all her exercises and no fat foods she has no cushioning, I'm sorry Pyrrha you just have too much muscle.

Reese : With all her skating she must have some muscle in the back, like literally, her muscles are trained to keep her on the board during combat so her ass is super firm, but that's a bit of a downside since it's too firm, kinda hard actually like really hard.

Also she gives me party animal girl vibes, that doesn't affect anything just thought I'd mention it.

Elm: Have you seen how tall and beefy that girl is? Now does this affect her backside...mmm...kind of? Her ass is just and, I mean just muscle which is bad because no cushioning.

But her thighs tho mm~mm delicious.

Yang : Yang is all about her upper body, she's proud of her tits and her arms, she is Miss "punch first ask later" after all, so i can actually see her skipping some leg days, like Reese her booty is alot of muscle but not so much cushion, sorry Yang.

Arslan : Like Yang, Arslan is all about working out and honing her body to peak physical fighting ability, however, this girl has genetics on her side, her tits aren't as big as Yang’s however, she make up for having a tentsy little bit of cushion for the pushin' not really enough to be B TIER though.

B TIER Aka Now were gettin' good

Penny Ver.2 : Penny Version 1 was pure metal (at least in my headcanon) so she was all legs no butt, however, Penny Version 2 (again in my headcanon) had synthetic skin, now I'm not saying Pietro is some weird pervert giving his child a fat ass, but he was "generous" which was inaccurate as...

Penny (human) : Penny as a human never had the chance to exercise [fuck you RT (T-T)], so her booty was a little lacking but it was still bigger and rounder than her robot body.

Ruby: Now you and I both know that with all the sweets Ruby eats she isn't exactly thin, good thing though is all the fat goes to her ass, Ruby has that fatty y'all!

Neo : I'm sure people will question this one but, Neo's height is a detrement on her ass, since she's so short her ass has to be proportional to her actual height, so for women her height she has so much ass but compared to the others in this list it isn't as much.

Coco: Coco takes care of her fashion and her body. She does squats often and keeps a balance between fat and firmness. Unfortunately genetics gave her a cute face but not a phat ass, sorry queen.

Summer: Same as Ruby except she has that MILFY boost to her hips and booty (she also has bigger tits but, oh well this isn't the Titty Tier list so...).

Winter : Training for the military helped null the taint of Jacques DNA in her, so she took a bit more of her mother’s blessed genes, her ass isn't exactly impressive like the girls in A TIER but it's nothing to scoff at either, unlike her sister (sorry Weissey).

Miltiades "Miltia" : both sisters wear heels, however, Miltia has bigger boobs than her twin while Mel has a bigger booty, still wearing heels and being as acrobatic as they both are requires a lot of lower body training, and also since they work at a club as security they do know how to seduce people, and that did affected their rating.

A TIER Aka Nearly perfectly fuckable

Harriet : Now to be one hundred percent honest Harriet has more thighs than ass, however, with her focus on speed and the training she does, she must have a nice fuckable ass, not the biggest or roundest but really, really nice.

Melanie: Both sisters are guards for Junior's club, but, I like to think that Mel also works as a Stripper or Lap dancer (Hooker if you got enough to buy her services and have a dick big enough, she's a bit of a size queen), so she worked on making her already fat ass even better and also took the time to hone her sex appeal, those being her twerking and lapdancing.

Velvet : Bunny gal has some phat Bunny Buns if ya catch my meaning, like go back to volume 3 and get a good look at her costume, girl's got hips and ass like she was bred for it!

Willow: Have you seen her in the newest volumes?? She has a chance (admittedly small) against the legendary bellabooties Gahtdayum!

Too bad she wasted it with a nearly sterile fucking shit pile of a human like Jacques, ugh... (How he managed to have 3 children baffles me, must've taken half the world’s supply of Viagra)

[Side note our favorite Schnee femboy took after his mom, if he was on the list he'd be just below Harriet hehe].

A+ TIER Candidates for the Bubble Booty Brigade (BBB)

Glynda : Glynda is a professional huntress, she is a teacher and she's decked out in dominatrix gear, can I make it any clearer?

Salem : Salem is the original MILF, the thiccest witch of remnant , and also, she has magic and is technically a monster girl sooo... that gives her extra points (who would've guessed I like monster girls hehe).

The next entry might be blasphemous for some and for that I apologize but...

Blake and Kali : I'm sorry kitties, even though the belabooties are know world wide they are not yet in the BBB. Blake has the firmer booty because of her time in the Fang but Kali has the MILF bonus.

Because of their similarities and their diferences they tie for top of A+ tier.

S TIER The BUBBLE BOOTY BRIGADE

The three heavenly asses of remnant, only three girl stand a top the mountain of the perfect Bubble Booty and they are in order...

May Zedong : May has been depicted by the fandom as being really curvy, especially the cow udders she calls breasts, however she hides her curves under her clothes. The same applies to the fucking badonk she hides in her baggy pants, so much so in fact, that May should be number two of the BBB but because she's so shy about her body she's demoted to number three, still, being a member of the Brigade is a blesing of itself.

Emerald Sustrai : As stated in the previous entry Em should be number three, but because May is so shy and Emerald isn't they swaped places. Em is number two because of one singular thing, she knows her ass is her best atribute, and she fucking flaunts it, she knows she can make men and futas pitch tents, and make women stare like horndogs just by walking past them. Not only that, but she wear clothes that accentuate her ass from short shorts to miniskirts, she knows how to make anyone undeserving cream themselves just by swaying her hips a little and winking. Her seduction skills boosted her above everyone else except one.

NORA VALKYRIE THE ONE TRUE BUBBLE BOOTY OF REMNANT

Every single step a jiggle, every single jump or tiny hop and the world stops to stare, every time she passes by jaws hit the floor, every man woman and futa either wants Nora or wants to be Nora.

Nora's voluptuous cheeks are legendary and the worst part of it all is: She does know the effect she has on people, and she gives zero shits about it.

Because no one is worthy of her divine ass cheeks, except for two men: Jaune Arc and Lie Ren.

She's found her studs the ones who care for her, love her, give her the world AND the ones who have huge bitch breaking cocks to fuck her into the sheets like rutting animals.Every.Single.Night.

Every day of her life is one big teasing session for her studs, she purposefully wear skirts just short enough to see the glorious bounce, she always finds excuses to bend over, she sits on their laps as often as possible.

Just so she can have the mind blowing three ways she has every night.

All hail Booty Queen Nora Valkyrie.

Now everyone thank you for being patient this was something i spent a few days writing (like 3-4 days) and I only wrote this for that time so I hope y'all like it.

Some chacters are missing I know, but I really am comfortable with how it is now.

As always this SHOULD NOT AFFECT YOUR WRITING.

This was a thought experiment of mine, and like I always say in this sort of thing WRITE HOW YOU WANT TO WRITE I hope this was clear.

Thanks for reading and please if you so desire share it with friends.

But for now see ya!

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sincerelyella · 4 years ago

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Always Remember Us This Way Part 4

Book: The Royal Romance/Heir (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Drake x OC (Alyssa Devereaux Walker)

Song Inspiration: Always Remember Us This Way by Lady Gaga

Characters belong to Pixelberry; MC Queen Ella Rys and Malia Ann Rys belong to me; Alyssa Walker was created by the brilliant mind of @burnsoslow and used with permission.

A/N: In celebration of King Liam and Queen Ella’s baby girl being born in TRH2 I wanted to write something to commemorate it (kinda). Some things are canon, but don’t expect it to follow the book much.

This is the last chapter! Thank y’all for coming with me through this kind of dark mini-series 😉 catch up here if you like.

Big thank you to @burnsoslow for reading over this and editing and making suggestions so I don’t sound like a crazy person.

Warnings: Some angst … but mostly fluff. Also, I do not work in a maternity unit at my hospital so please excuse any inaccuracies.

Words: 1261

A pounding headache and a beeping in the background slowly wakes Ella up from a groggy sleep. Her eyelids feel heavy and it takes several seconds for her to open them one at a time. Her vision is blurred and she blinks once, twice, three times to clear it. I feel so hungover. Ella puts her hand on her forehead and looks around. There is a blood pressure cuff on her right upper arm and a pulse oximeter on her left finger. That’s what was beeping. Ella removed the annoying thing and rubbed her eyes. The beeping went from steady to flatline and several hospital workers ran in quickly. Oh shit. Ella figured out her mistake - never take the pulse ox off.

She gave them a nervous smile. “Sorry everyone,” she croaked. “I just took it off for a second. The beeping was giving me a headache.”

The team chuckled. “It’s good to see you awake there, Your Majesty.” Ella turned her head and saw Dr. Ramirez peek into the room.

Ella smiled. “Hey doc, you don’t need to call me that. It’s nice to see you. Where’s my baby and my husband?”

Dr. Ramirez laughed, shooed everyone out of the room and sat onto the bed next to Ella.

“Ella,” she pulled her into a big hug. The two had gotten close working together at the hospital, and then when Ella got pregnant, they saw each other more often. “I’m so relieved to see you awake.”

“What happened?”

“You went unconscious a few moments after giving birth. You had an adherent placenta and hemorrhaging. I was able to remove it manually and cauterize the area to stop the bleeding. You’ll likely be -”

“Really, really sore for a while.” Ella finished.

She nodded. “Yes. We’ve been monitoring you here in the ICU, making sure there won’t be anymore bleeding, but you’ve been fine so far. Labs are good except your hemoglobin is low … but I’m sure you knew that already,” she chuckled.

“Yes,” Ella swallowed the lump in her throat that formed before she even asked her question. “How’s Liam?”

“The king is -”

A loud knock sounded and Ella called for them to come in. A young woman in scrubs opened the door and curtsied. “So sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty.” She turned to Dr. Ramirez. “Doctor, another one of your patients is in the ER yelling that she’s in labor.”

“Thank you, Marie, I’ll be out in a moment.”

The nurse nodded, curtsied to Ella and walked out, leaving the sliding door open as it was.

“If all looks well, we’ll probably be able to get you down to the maternity unit to be with Malia.”

“That would be amazing.”

Ella suddenly heard running down the hallway and turned towards the door. She saw her husband staring at her from the glass, his clear blue eyes watering as he gazed at her. “Ella …” he whispered.

“I’ll be back to check on you.” Dr. Ramirez murmured and made her way out the door, shutting it behind her. Liam was still staring as he was unable to bring himself to break the eye contact, fearing this might be a dream.

“Hey babe,” Ella smiled.

She greeted him with her normal term of endearment and his tears fell immediately; he quickly sucked in a breath so he wouldn’t cry out. He walked towards the hospital bed, grabbed her hands, kissed each finger and then her palms. He leaned over and wrapped his large arms around her small body, holding onto her like she might disappear. “I … never want to … let go of you, love …” he sobbed into the crook of her neck and she cried onto his shoulder. He pulled back after a moment to kiss her and he knew then … his wife was alive and this wasn’t a dream.

Liam finally sat on the bed in front of Ella, his hands pushing hair out of her face, his eyes roaming over her, like this was the first time he had seen her in years. “How …” his voice hitched. “How are you?”

“I’m really sore. But Dr. Ramirez said I’m okay so far. She said I can probably be moved to be with Malia.” She smiled softly, then placed a hand on her husband’s cheek. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to … worry you.”

“I don’t want to talk about that, my love. Today has been one of the scariest days of my life. I want to just be here with you, okay?”

“Okay.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Did you call Drake?”

“Oh!” Liam reached into his pocket for his phone, pressing Drake’s number. “Hey! … I’m not out of breath … Everything is fine, Ella is awake … It happened just now, Drake! … Yes, come up. Just let the staff know … ‘Bye.”

“Come up? Where is he?”

“He and Alyssa are downstairs with Malia.” Liam smiled. “Alyssa was cuddling her for you.”

Ella’s eyes welled with tears. “Lyssa came?”

Liam leaned down to kiss her lips again. “Yes, of course she did, love. They both came running.”

“Sh-she’s pregnant, I don’t want her to stress too much and I definitely don’t want her running!” Ella’s lip quivered. “Is she alright?”

“She was upset when she first got here, but she got to talk to you for a bit and then she perked up a lot when she met Malia.”

Ella flashed him a watery smile. “Good, I’m glad she’s here.”

As if on cue, Alyssa and Drake opened the door and walked in, big smiles on their faces. The women squealed and yelled simultaneously.

“El!” “Lyssa!”

Alyssa ran towards the bed and engulfed her friend in a big, but gentle hug. The women pulled back, Alyssa taking a seat next to Ella, both wiping away tears. “How are you feeling? Can we hatch an escape plan to get you out of here?”

Everyone laughed. Drake approached the bed and leaned over to give Ella a hug. “Hey, you worried us, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” She chuckled as Drake pulled away.

“The doctor says she can maybe be moved down to be with Malia.” Liam was unable to hide the grin on his face. His family could finally be together in one room.

“That’s great! Then … home!” Alyssa clapped in delight.

“Thank you both for coming. I love you guys.” Ella’s tears kept streaming down her face.

“Okay no more of that, you’re fine!” Alyssa grabbed her friend’s hand. “Also, Malia is so beautiful, Ella! She was sleeping when we left.”

“Thank you for holding her for me …” Ella felt the lump in her throat form again and she swallowed.

“You don’t ever have to thank me for doing that. I was so happy to do it!” Alyssa suddenly let out a huge yawn. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. This has been a stressful day,” she chuckled and squeezed Ella’s hand.

“You guys go get some rest, especially you.” Ella pointed her finger at Alyssa.

“But -”

“Ella’s right, baby, I think some rest will be good.” Drake looked down at Ella. “We’ll come back to see you after Sleeping Beauty gets her rest.”

Ella waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine, you guys go. We’ll keep you updated.”

Alyssa huffed. “I’m not even that tired.” But she stood, hugged Ella and Liam and twined her fingers with her husband’s. As she was about to walk through the door, she turned back to look at Ella. “Text me! Your husband will forget.”

Liam and Ella laughed. “I will. Love you!”

“Love you!”

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thevindicativevordan · 4 years ago

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My Superfamily Set-Up

By and large I’m fairly happy with the upcoming Infinite Frontier status quo for the Superfamily. Granted that’s in part because I’m still convinced Kara will get an ongoing or mini in 2021, probably to coincide with her show returning, and PKJ hinted at plans for Steel on Twitter. But Kon has escaped the Titans dumpsterfire for a little while, and I’ve heard good things about Thompson as a writer as well. Kenan is popping back up in a one shot written by Yang that will hopefully herald more appearances in Batman/Superman. Jon is still co-protagonist with Clark in the main books, Tanya is in the Future State Shazam book and also a candidate for the FS Justice League book, so hopefully she’ll be in Titans Academy, and Lois is poised to be a big player in the upcoming Checkmate mini by Bendis. So fingers crossed, all the core members of the Superfamily will be in stuff come end of 2021.

Now that said, were DC to suddenly realize that I alone can save Superman, and asked me what kind of status quo I would like (whether for a mainline or Elseworld book makes no difference to me), this is the basic set up that I would go with:

Superman - I’d do a traditional status quo. Superman is disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, married to Lois Lane, etc. I’d have Ma and Pa go back to being dead since I still am not a fan of them being alive. Note that this isn’t a reaction against Bendis, I loved Bendis’ run, but I do want to play with the traditional status quo a little bit before diving into something different. Especially since so many Superman writers have traditionally completely wasted the potential of Superman’s status quo.

Lois Lane - Similar to Superman I’d go with a more traditional status quo at the start. She works at the Daily Planet, she and Clark are married, she’s the best reporter in town, etc. I would eventually have her take over as editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet from Perry, I thought that was a great idea the New 52 wasted, and I love the idea of her and Cat Grant being rivals with the Daily Planet and Catco competing.

Jon Kent - I’d restore kid Jon and toss him back to the Super Sons, not because I think what’s been done with him has been bad, but mostly because I don’t want to write him as Superman, I want to write Clark. Jon seems to be being set up to be co-Superman, and I just don’t have any interest in writing that. To restore kid Jon without destroying Bendis’ run which I enjoyed, I’d explain that teen Jon is actually the “evil” Jon we saw from the Super Sons of Tomorrow future. He went back in time and rescued his kid self from Earth 3, and explained to him that he wanted to prevent that future from coming to pass, but that he needed to take his younger self’s place to do so. Kid Jon agreed, after all he was terrified of becoming evil in both Tomasi’s Super Sons of Tomorrow and Bendis The Man of Steel, and has basically been in hiding watching the events and also studying Hypertime so he can learn how to avoid ending up evil.

Clark and Lois would blow up at the Jons for the lie when Teen Jon judges he’s changed things enough for his kid self to return, but both Jons could point out that both Clark and Lois have kept secrets when they deemed it necessary from each other and Jon. That would be a neat conversation to have, and a way to continue the untraditional family dynamic that Bendis set up. You could keep teen Jon as a time anomaly until Hypertime catches up with him and restores him to his timeline, with him continuing to be Superman as penance, while kid Jon goes and pals around with Damian in Williamson’s Robin or whatever.

Superwoman/Kara Zor-El - I like the idea of Kara “graduating” to the Superwoman name. It’s open right now given Lana’s retirement, and I think it would suit Kara. I would keep Kara in National, it’s her own little corner to play in, but I would keep that development from (I believe it was) Andrea Shea, where Kara gets fired from Catco because she’s a terrible intern due to always running off to be a heroine. She and Kal talk, Kara admits she doesn’t really want to be a journalist, and so she goes and interns at STAR Labs. I hate how DC keeps turning all the members of the Superfamily into Clark clones. It’s goddamn stupid and I want them to please STOP. Why the hell would Kara want to go into journalism anyway? We’ve never even seen a damn journalist on Krypton! It’s a stupid thing they did on the TV show because they wanted to swipe Clark’s stuff. Let Kara be the scientist of the Els, the one who carries on the family tradition. What form that takes is something I’m open too, I liked Venditti making her interested in history in his annual, maybe make Kara an anthropologist? That would be hilarious.

Also give Lena to Supergirl, they can be best friends, enemies, lovers, I don’t care. But Lena is wasting away in a vault under Lexcorp last we saw, and that’s a damn shame considering how popular CW Lena is. I’d also add Natasha Irons (who I’d rename Mastersmith) and Tanya Spears (Powerhouse) to Supergirl’s supporting cast, they could play off each other as three supergenuis women).

Kon-El/Conner Kent/Scion - I’m really excited to see what Thompson is going to do with Kon on the Suicide Squad, but here’s what I would do with him. Kon would finally be able to shake off the Superboy moniker and leave that to Jon. Instead he’d take the name “Scion” as a reflection of his origins, and a tie-in to his new status quo. In the wake of Death Metal, Lex Luthor would abruptly step down as head of Lexcorp, stating that he needs time to redefine himself in the wake of his latest attempt to justify himself as the true hero by serving Perpetua, ending up with him needing Superman to save the day again. While he is away, he’s turned over complete control of Lexcorp to his sole heir: Conner. Conner is now head of one of the evilest megacorps in existence, and is one of the wealthiest men alive. Conner knows this is just another maneuver by Lex in his neverending crusade against Superman, but he’s determined to not just be another pawn. He accepts control, renames Lexcorp Superman, Inc. His mission will be to transform the megacorp into the force for good it pretends to be. Conner will have to take on not only Lex loyalists and traitorous underlings who would love to be CEO themselves within Lexcorp, but new megacorps who have flocked to Metropolis in hope of establishing themselves, now that the former Master of Metropolis has abdicated his throne. Threats within and threats without, but armed with the powers/morals of Superman and the charm/brains of Lex Luthor, Kon is just cocky enough to think he can handle it.

John Henry Irons/Steel - It will be a big year for John Henry Irons. His private company Steelworks is about to go public and make him a billionaire. Lana Lang has accepted his marriage proposal and they’re due to be wed. His niece Natasha has left the nest and is off working at STAR Labs. Irons is posed to finally resurrect the decrepit Suicide Slum and allow it to catch up to the rest of the City of Tomorrow. However there are problems: new megacorps are moving into the city in the wake of Lex Luthor leaving, people are disappearing from Suicide Slum with dark rumors are spreading about the reasons why, and the people of Suicide Slum are accusing Irons of planning to gentrify the borough. Making matters worse, weapons that Irons designed as a young man are appearing on the streets of Metropolis, attracting negative attention from the media and putting Steelworks at risk. Irons is going to have to suit up and take up the fight all over Metropolis, from the darkest levels of the Undercity, to the bright deceptive board rooms at the top of skyscrapers in the city’s heart. Irons will have to reckon with his past to secure his future, and confront the evil Metropolis would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

Kenan Kong/New Super-Man - Look just give Yang a damn Kenan book and let him go wild. Right now is either the best or worst time to give Kenan a book given the situation with Hong Kong, but if anyone is equipped to deal with it, it’s Yang. I’ll just add that I would love to see Kenan on a Global Guardians team, but I’d also love to see Justice League of China as a spinoff book of the main Justice League. Kenan is as close as DC has come to their own Spider-Man/Invincible take on Superman, Jon sadly hasn’t really differentiated himself from his dad while Kenan is VERY different. I would love to see Kenan pushed more and would buy a new book in a heartbeat. Also put out a damn New Super-Man omnibus Jim Lee, for God’s sake can’t you abuse your power to push the character you wanted created and is actually good unlike most of Wildstorm? You’re shoving Grifter back into everything but not Kenan? Christ.

So yeah that’s the Superfamily status quo I’d establish. Keeping my Clark and Lois ideas close to my chest for now, but I might go into more detail later.

#superman #superfamily #lois lane #jon kent #kenan kong #steel #supergirl #superwoman #dc comics #new super-man

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blkmxrvel · 4 years ago

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Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (26) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

They filed into the courtroom one by one, a nervous band of shaking hands and uncertain faces. Kara wanted, once again, to sit with Y/N, but she had to satisfy herself with a kiss, and tucking a loose strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, before Lena ushered Kara off to sit in their previous seats.

It had been hell, sitting through Y/N’s testimony, especially knowing that Schott probably was turning a deaf ear to everything the young woman was saying. Kara didn’t know how that was exactly possible; there was nothing in what Y/N told that should lead anyone to believe she’d had a happy life with James Olsen. Kara had wanted to run up to the table and take Y/N in her arms, telling her that everything would be okay. And she wanted to punch Iris West.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Kara muttered to her.

Lena slipped an arm around Kara and squeezed her close. “Breathe, little one,” she whispered, and Kara didn’t object to the term of endearment. “You need to be strong for her, because if you’re not, who else is going to be?”

“I have to think about myself too, you know,” Kara said with a sigh. The talk she’d have to have with her bosses was looming ever-present in her mind, even as she tried to shove it away and concentrate on Y/N.

Not like my Miss Kara.

They were words that simultaneously thrilled her, and damned her. Kara knew that morally and legally she hadn’t done anything wrong; her bosses couldn’t keep her away from Y/N. But ethically… ethically she’d broken every rule in the book. Don’t get involved with a client. Don’t give a client preferential treatment. Don’t fall in love with a client.

Alex’s knowing face had told Kara that she knew what was in store for her, and Kara couldn’t help but absurdly wonder if she’d called her bosses to be there. There wasn’t any reason for them to be there, they usually never expressed interest in court cases involving clients.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Lena said when Kara voiced her fears. “I think Alex learned her lesson about not being upfront with you.”

“And I’m not telling you to not care for yourself,” Lena added. “You ought to know me better than that. Your first priority is to yourself. But don’t get so lost in it that you forget Y/N, too.”

“And you know me bet—“ Kara trailed off as the door opened and she and the others stood up as Judge Schott entered.

“Be seated,” he said. “Mr. Olsen, remain standing, please.”

His smile to James filled Kara with dread as she sat down and Lena took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Kara looked at Y/N, who sat there stone-faced, as if she knew what was to come, and was steeling herself for the inevitability.

“I’m going to get right to the point,” Judge Schott said smoothly. “Mr. Olsen, I find you not guilty of the charge of neglect.”

Kara growled low in her throat and Lena’s hand tightened around hers.

“I find that you provided Y/N with food, shelter, and the discipline that should be given to a submissive. Since you did not have a contract outlining rules and the consequences for breaking those rules, as well as the establishment of a safe word, it is the judgment of this court that you cannot be held responsible for going beyond acceptable punishment.”

Iris West-Allen looked startled at Judge Schott’s words, a fact that gave Kara no small amount of satisfaction. The man’s own lawyer hadn’t even believed in him. Alex glanced over at Kara, a combined expression of regret and triumph on her face. Kara knew she’d want to start phase two of bringing down Schott as soon as possible, but Kara felt tired, so impossibly tired.

And she only had eyes for Y/N.

“While the court finds you not guilty of the charges of neglect, the court does find that you did not obtain a contract, including the use of a safe word, at the beginning of your relationship with Y/N, as is required by law.”

“Slap on the wrist,” Kara muttered, and Lena shushed her.

“The court therefore sentences you to one month of probation as well as one month of Dominant education classes. Before you enter a claim with another submissive you will be required to submit proof that you attended these classes, is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” James Olsen replied; Kara found it curious that instead of looking relieved, Olsen seemed more… sad than anything.

Good, Kara thought. Maybe his conscience was finally catching up to him.

“Do you have any questions?” the judge was asking Y/N, though by his tone it was obvious any question she could ask would be considered stupid, and a waste of time.

“Do I- do I have to go back with him?” Y/N asked softly.

Kara nearly retched; it was only Lena’s hand still gripping hers that kept her from doing so. She hadn’t even entertained that possibility. Y/N had left James; there had been no thought in Kara’s mind about her having to return to him, or even still being bound to him. But Judge Schott had insisted on calling her Hastings-Olsen…

Oh god. What if—

“Do you want to be with him?”

This time, Y/N’s voice was strong, solid.

“Not if he were the last Dominant on earth.”

Kara smirked; next to her, Lena chuckled.

“You’ve taught her well.”

Kara shook her head. “That’s all Y/N,” she said proudly. “I’ve had nothing to do with that.”

“I think you have, more than you know.”

Maybe, she thought to herself, but the judge was speaking again.

“If you don’t want to be with him—“

“But I want to be with her,” James interrupted. He leaned forward, his hands splayed open on the table.

For a moment, Kara realized, the roles had changed. James was the one reaching out in supplication, and this time Y/N had the upper hand. This time, it was Y/N who had the power over James Olsen.

“I love you, and I’m sorry,” he insisted. “Things will be different, you’ll see. I know how to do things better now, you have to come home.”

There was a pause that seemed, to Kara, to go on forever before Y/N answered.

“I will go home, but not with you.” She looked at the judge. “I don’t want to be with him.”

A second pause; Kara and everyone else jumped at the sound of the gavel. When had that appeared?

“The claim is dissolved, and court is adjourned.”

The room emptied out quickly; Lena had gone off to console Sam, who seemed to be muttering swear words under her breath while glaring at the door through which Schott had made his hasty exit. Lucy’s job was done so she felt no need to linger around after a simple touch on Y/N’s shoulder and an apologetic smile. Alex allowed Maggie to wrap her arms around her, and the two women stopped in front of Kara.

“We’ll talk later?” Alex asked quietly.

Kara nodded, her gaze focused on the girl sat at the table in the front of the room.

“We’ll talk later.”

“I’ll call you.”

“You’ll call me. Alex?" She stopped and turned back.

Kara smiled. “Love you.”

She winked. “Love you too.”

Kara turned back around, watching her in the silence of the almost empty room. Watched as Y/N took a breath in, out, fingers flexing against the laminate wood of the table. What thoughts were warring with themselves in her mind? Kara wondered. She wondered if it was the same thought that kept running through Kara’s own mind.

Y/N was free.

Free. To enjoy personal rights or liberty, as a person who is not in slavery. Pertaining to or reserved for those who enjoy personal liberty.

To make free; set at liberty; release from bondage or imprisonment.

Schott may not have given them what they really wanted – James in prison, but he’d given Y/N exactly what she needed, had needed ever since she was a sixteen year old, terrified submissive.

A voice. A decision. A choice.

The claim is dissolved.

Kara sat in her chair and watched Y/N. In, out, hands flat on the table. Lips parted, eyes ahead.

“It’s not my fault.”

The battle was raging. Kara nodded.

“It’s not.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I-I’m free.”

Kara stood up and moved to the front of the room, to the table, positioning herself on it in front of Y/N.

“You’re free.”

Y/N looked at her, then wrapped her arms around Kara’s waist and rested her head on Kara’s lap.

“I can do whatever I want.”

Kara stroked her fingers through Y/N’s hair. It was always so soft, she thought.

“You can do whatever you want.”

Y/N let out a shuddering sigh, and Kara hunched forward slightly, covering Y/N as best she could in a hug and kissing the top of her head. She sat back up, her hand in the girl’s hair.

“What do you think you want?” Kara asked.

Y/N was quiet, and Kara felt a little worried about what Y/N’s answer might be. Perhaps she’d say she wanted time. Her own apartment. Which would be nice, really, Kara knew that Y/N was probably ready to leave Nia’s, leave Mt. Overland House behind. It would be absurd to think that Y/N would want to move in with Kara; it was absurd to think that that would even be a good idea at this point.

But what if she said she wanted to see other people? Maybe she wanted to try to submit to someone else, someone who wasn’t Kara. Maybe she didn’t want to submit at all.

But it would be her choice, Kara knew. Her choice, and she’d stand by whatever Y/N decided. Because she was free.

“A cheeseburger.”

Kara tilted her head. “What?”

“A cheeseburger, Miss Kara,” Y/N said, lifting her own head and smiling at Kara a little, her eyes sparkling with tears. Happy tears. “I’m starving.”

“Then you should get a cheeseburger,” Kara said with a laugh, her fears a little relieved. “You certainly deserve one.”

“Why didn’t he believe me?” Y/N asked, and Kara knew the opposing side of the battle was making its move.

“I told the truth…”

“I know,” Kara soothed, pulling Y/N up from her lap and cupping her cheek. “I am so proud of you. But we knew how this was most likely to turn out, Y/N. Judge Schott clearly had his mind made up before you even spoke.”

“I just thought if he heard me, if he listened—“

“He didn’t want to listen, little one.” Kara leaned forward and gently kissed Y/N’s lips. “But that doesn’t mean that you weren’t right, that this was your fault. None of this is your fault, and you know that now.”

Y/N stared at her for a long moment, and Kara was glad to see a new resolve appear in her eyes, and Kara was pretty sure she knew which side had won the battle.

“I know it wasn’t my fault.”

Kara smiled and kissed Y/N’s forehead. “Let’s go get that cheeseburger, shall we?” She had her own resolve, to put the impending meeting with her bosses out of her mind, at least for now.

He was waiting for her as Kara walked out holding Y/N’s hand. The surprise in his eyes told Kara that James hadn’t expected her to be there as well; had he expected to ambush Y/N in an empty hallway? Y/N’s hand tightened in hers.

“What do you want?”

“To talk to you.” He flicked his gaze to Kara. “Alone.”

Kara opened her mouth, but Y/N beat her to it. “That’s not happening.” She couldn’t help but smirk.

“We need to talk. I want to talk to you now.”

His hand was around Y/N’s arm, and Kara sprang into action, pulling Y/N behind her and positioning herself in front of James.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her eyes never leaving James’s face.

“I’m fine, Miss Kara.”

“Good.” She addressed James. “You’re going to leave her alone.”

“Says who?” he snorted.

“Says me.”

Kara smiled at Y/N’s words, and nodded. “You’re going to leave her alone. Your claim is dissolved. You had a good thing and you cruelly, brutally mistreated one of the most beautiful things you could have ever been given.”

“I didn’t know what I—“

“You’re right. You didn’t know, and you still don’t. You don’t know that women are no longer required to accept mediocrity when they deserve superiority.” He looked confused, but Kara didn’t bother to stop to explain.

“You are the poorest excuse for a dominant I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, and I am so sorry that Y/N ever had to suffer under your stupidity. But I’m also glad.”

Kara reached behind her and grasped Y/N’s hand again, pulling the girl forward so that they were standing close.

“I’m glad because now she knows what she should have had, and what she still can have. So no, you’re not going to talk to her, and no, she’s not going back to you, and yes, you’re going to leave her alone.”

She stepped so that she was so close to James she could feel his breath on her; it didn’t matter that he could easily crush her. Protecting Y/N made her feel ten feet tall.

“Because if you don’t, I will make your life a living hell, James Olsen.”

For the rest of her life Kara would consider it a personal triumph when James Olsen walked away with a glare, and Y/N threw back her head, laughing, as she picked Kara up and spun her around in a hug.

Two days later, triumph was the last thing on her mind when Kara was sat in the boardroom at SETS, facing down Bamford and Truelove. It was awkward, Kara thought, knowing that she would have to justify her actions to someone named Truelove. She would have thought he’d understand, but his stony expression as they both stared at her told her that she wouldn’t be that lucky. Of course.

“Are you Miss Hastings’s mistress?”

Apparently there weren’t even going to be forced, meaningless pleasantries; just jumping straight to the point. “No,” Kara answered.

“But she refers to you as Miss Kara.”

“That’s what you heard,” Kara said wearily. “And that’s why we’re here.”

“Kara.” Mr. Bamford folded his hands together and leaned forward against the table, regarding her with something that was between father and executioner. “We’re here because based on Miss Hastings’s comments during the hearing, it’s clear that you overstepped your boundaries as an employee of the Society for the Ethical Treatment of Submissives.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Kara insisted, though she knew in the end it wouldn’t matter.

“Is she submitting to you?” Truelove asked, and Kara sighed inwardly.

It was well-known, Alex had told her when she’d started at SETS, that Truelove’s aim was to become Bamford’s right hand man, and it didn’t matter who he railroaded to get to that point.

“Yes.”

“Are you making a claim on her?”

Kara glanced out the window. “I don’t know.”

“So you picked a patient at Mt. Overland House, ingratiated yourself into her life without regard to her recovery or treatment, and coerced her into submitting to you, but you don’t know if you’re making a claim on her?”

Kara slapped her hands on the table and stood up, beginning to pace around the room.

“From day one my only thought has been for Y/N’s well-being,” she said. “I didn’t pick her as if she was at a trade auction, I did not pick her as if she were a target for some… nefarious plan of domination. Things just… happened.”

“And they’re not supposed to,” Bamford said, a measure of kindness in his voice. “Sit down, Kara.”

She sat, still on edge, her foot tapping nervously.

“You’ve been trained,” Bamford said. “You’ve been trained, and you’re an excellent worker. You truly do have your clients’ best interests at heart, but I don’t think you can deny that you skirted your responsibilities to pursue a relationship with Miss Hastings.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Kara said, and narrowed her eyes when Truelove laughed out loud.

“Stop it,” Bamford admonished him, and Kara refrained from sticking her tongue out. Bamford regarded her and shook his head.

“Legally, you didn’t. Morally, you didn’t. You can’t help who you fall in love with, Kara. The heart wants what it wants.”

Kara managed a smile as his words sank in. The heart wants what it wants.

“But we cannot have an employee who is in love with a client.”

“She’s not a client anymore, the claim has been dissolved and she’ll be leaving Nia’s house on the Mt. Overland grounds.”

“To move in with you?” Truelove asked; Kara didn’t answer.

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that all of this happened while she was still a client. Didn’t you at any time think that perhaps you shouldn’t be dominating her?”

Kara shook her head. “We all know why I’m here, and we all know what you’ve already decided, so why don’t you save me some precious time and just tell me.”

Bamford sighed and looked at her. “We will give you two weeks to submit your resignation. If we don’t have the paperwork in hand when two weeks are up, you’ll be terminated.”

“So quit or be fired,” Kara translated, her hands beginning to tremble. She hadn’t actually thought it would be that bad. “Can I not just be transferred to another department?”

“So you can case for your next claim?”

“Truelove, go make yourself useful,” Bamford said. “Get me a coffee.”

He waited until his coworker had left with a huff, and then shook his head at Kara. “If he wasn’t my nephew,” he sighed, and Kara giggled a little.

“We can’t transfer you to another department,” Bamford said, sounding regretful. “Kara, I would if I could but you’ve compromised the good work we’re trying to do here. Who is going to take submissives’ rights seriously if counselors, advocates, workers start falling in love with them and getting into relationships? You’re a liability.”

He laid his hand on Kara’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Kara stood up and moved towards the door, then paused to glance back at her boss. “You’ll have my resignation in a couple of days.”

“I’ll probably look for another job in a few days,” Kara said to her fathers, later as she was curled up on their couch in a pair of her old pajamas and indulging in a pint of ice cream.

Her fathers exchanged a look. “What about New York?” Randy asked carefully.

“What about it?”

“Kara,” David admonished softly.

“Now you can go to New York.”

“I don’t want to go to New York.”

“That’s crap, young lady, and you know it.”

Kara winced, and Randy wrapped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s my fault you’re still here.”

“Dad—“

“Hush while your elders are speaking, Kara Zor-El.” Kara rolled her eyes but fell silent. “It’s my fault that you’re still here. I should never have let you use my illness as an excuse not to chase your dreams. But you’re still young, you still have plenty of time, and now you have the opportunity. You’d be a fool not to take it.”

“Then I’m a fool,” Kara muttered, concentrating on the ice cream.

“What are you so afraid of, Sophie?” David asked, and she shrugged. “I know Y/N would want to go with you.”

“Y/N needs to make her own decisions about that.”

“You’re right, but is it her decision if you don’t even give her the opportunity to make it?”

“Do you love her?”

Kara just looked at him. She had thought it was obvious, but putting it into words, that was a whole different matter.

“Do you want to make a claim on her?”

“I don’t know, Daddy.”

Wasn’t this what she wanted? Kara thought. Everything seemed to be falling perfectly into place. Y/N was free to make up her own mind, and Kara was reasonably certain if she offered Y/N a collar, Y/N would accept it. Though it wouldn’t be a collar she’d offer, Kara knew. Maybe a necklace. A delicate chain with a dainty lock. Silver, and a gold star on. Or perhaps just a simple ribbon with a charm… Maybe white. Green? And what would the ceremony be like? Would they even have a ceremony? Well, of course they would. They’d have the chance to stand there in front of everyone – well, Kara would stand, Y/N would kneel. And Kara would make her claim, pledging her love for always. Y/N would answer that she would be Kara’s girl, Kara’s little one, as long as they live. What would she wear, Kara wondered. But it wouldn’t matter to her; Y/N could wear anything and she’d still be the prettiest girl Kara had ever met.

She was smiling, and the look her fathers were giving each other now told Kara that yes, she really was obvious. Kara sighed.

It was what she wanted, more than anything. But an offer was just that, an offer. And as “reasonably certain” as she was about Y/N’s answer, an offer could be turned down. A heart open with love could be broken. And though she called Y/N hers, though Y/N was her little one, it was in words only. There was no contract, no signatures, no rules or safe words on paper. At least not officially. Ultimately the decision would be Y/N’s, and Kara knew that a decision wasn’t always “yes.”

And New York… New York could mean too many things that were too uncertain. New York could mean success and happiness, or New York could mean endless auditions, one rejection after another, a career working as a waitress instead of on Broadway. A high-rise apartment in a great part of town, or a dumpy studio with bars on the window. And if she couldn’t provide for Y/N, what would she do then? Y/N deserved better than having to support Kara because she couldn’t be successful. She wanted more than anything to believe that New York would be the beginning of a magical new life for herself and Y/N, but Y/N had already had her hopes and dreams shattered once before; Kara didn’t know that she was willing to risk doing that to her again.

“You should at least talk to her,” her daddy said. “It’s not fair to Y/N for you to just shut her out of this decision. Of course it’s yours to go to New York or not, but to not ask Y/N for her input… It would seem to me that you’d be telling her all her hard work after James was for nothing.”

That wasn’t what Kara wanted to do, at all. Y/N had worked so hard, she was so strong now, probably the strongest person Kara knew. And the last thing she wanted to do was send a message to Y/N that Kara, who had believed in her more than anyone, thought she was too weak to share in Kara’s concerns, Kara’s dreams, Kara’s life.

But Kara could handle being fired. She could handle living in Lima for the rest of her life. What she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle, was a rejection from Y/N.

“The sky’s the limit, Kara,” her dad said quietly, squeezing her close. “The sky’s the limit, and Y/N can share that with you.”

She started to answer, but the vibrating of her cell phone distracted her. Kara glanced at it; Y/N’s smiling face stared up at her as it had for the past ten times she had called since Kara had left the SETS building.

Kara picked up her phone.

“Hi, little one. I think we should talk.”

#madi converts #HFMWH #kara danvers #kara danvers x reader #supergirl #supergirl x reader

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