#he's in for one hell of a year i can feel it

[lexirosewrites]

Omega Steve is enamored with Cringe Fail Alpha Eddie and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't understand why.

He's watching Eddie with heart eyes in their one shared class, sighing longingly as Eddie, bites the skin off around his nails and eats it while he ignores the teacher and plans his campaign. He's ignoring his friends' attempts to draw his attention when Eddie gets up on the table to give his semi-regular lunch table rants, almost slipping when he steps in someone's sandwich.

He is hands down the most popular Omega in the school even after he ditches his old friend and becomes Pack Omega to a bunch of puppies and band nerd Robin Buckley. He gets a stupid amount of courting gifts and never says yes to anybody, even a good amount of Betas have tried for his hand. The only Alpha that's never offered is Eddie Munson, and it makes Steve feel crazy.

And Steve knows he could just go over there and ask Eddie if he would be interested in courting, but he wants to be wood! He knows it's silly to way for the Alpha to make an offer but Steve is a romantic at heart and he wants to be wanted.

When Eddie starts dealing in his second senior year and Steve's first, Steve sees this as his chance to finally get close to Eddie organically and flirt a little to show Eddie he's interested. That he only smokes when someone buys for him is irrelevant. He'll buy every day if it means Eddie finally notices him. Robin says he's being a dingus. Steve insists he's a genius.

And so he goes to meet Eddie in the woods. To the average outsider, Eddie's hair is all frizzed out and he's probably worn the same pair of jeans every day this week and is overall a little bit of a rat. Steve Vision, however, only sees an extremely handsome, rugged Alpha seemingly waiting for him in the woods.

"Ah, King Steve. To what do I owe the honor?" It's probably meant as a dig, but it makes Steve preen a little anyway.

"Heard you were dealing now. Couldn't miss my chance to buy from the infamous Eddie Munson." Steve replies as he sits, leaning his head on his palm so he can look up at him from under his lashes. Laying it on a little thick? Maybe. But the way Eddie blushes is worth the cringy move.

With an in, Steve slowly starts inserting himself into Eddie's life more and more. He buys at least once a week, flirting all the while. Eventually, he asks if Eddie would like to meet his kids.

"They love that game, the dungeons one, and I think it would be fun if they all got to play while you ran the plays or whatever."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. I know you know what it's called, but hell yeah lets do it! I'm dying to test my skills on some fresh players."

And of course, the kids love him. Well, Max is less than impressed and while Erica recognized him as an adequate DM, she is firm in her belief that Steve could do better. She's been insistent for the last year that he should be looking for a "real Fabio type" and Eddie Munson doesn't really fit the bill.

The real win of the night, however, is that Eddie brings so much stuff directly from his house that carries his scent. He still wears his scent patch like they all have to in school, which is disappointing, but his notes and books carry a distinct smokey, wet earth smell that nearly makes Steve swoon. He didn't get to see Eddie's reaction to walking into his house, another disappointment, but he just knows they're compatible.

After that, Steve gets himself an invite to Hellfire to watch. He loves seeing Eddie in his element, smiling along when Eddie crows with victory when someone in the party dies because of their own hubris. He stays and hangs out while Eddie cleans up chatting away about their days.

But for as much as Steve puts out all the right signals, and as much as Eddie seems to be flirting back, he hasn't made even a hit of a movement toward courtship. Steve doesn't want to give up, but he's starting to resign himself to the idea that he's just going to have to ask Eddie out himself.

Then one day while Steve is loitering around after Hellfire, an Omega cheerleader walks through the door asking for Eddie. She'd been sent this way by Chrissy Cunningham for some kind of anxiety medication since her mom wouldn't let her get a prescription. Steve's not thrilled by the interruption and is glaring daggers at the poor girl, but Eddie doesn't notice. No, Eddie is too busy breaking Steve's heart.

Eddie is doing all the same things he's done with Steve. All the things that gave Steve hope that Eddie was interested despite his lack of courting attempts. He's leaning in, teasing, hiding behind his hair at the slightest bit of attention. Apparently, those weren't reactions to Steve. That's just how Eddie reacts to any available Omega who looks his way.

Suddenly mortified, Steve jumps off the table he had been so happily perched on not five minutes ago. He grunts out some half-assed excuse and bolts for the door, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the humiliating tears.

From then on, he avoids Eddie as much as he can. No more weekly buying appointments. No more sitting in on Hellfire nights. He can't avoid him completely with the kids in the mix, but he keeps his distance as much as possible, too embarrassed and heartbroken to reach back out. He doesn't drop, not with Robin being such a stable Alpha figure in his life, but everyone can tell he's in a funk.

Eddie, meanwhile, has been as enamored with Steve as every other Alpha in Hawkins for years but never figured he would ever look his way in a million years.

When the Omega started appearing in his life, it felt a little like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Like he would wake up and it would all be some crazy dream induced by years of unfulfilled pining.

But Steve never disappeared and Eddie never woke up. Eddie still wasn't convinced that Steve would ever entertain the idea of courtship with him, so he simply didn't put himself in a position to be rejected, no matter what the Corroded Coffin boys said about Steve "blatantly and obviously begging you to court him, dude."

So on and on it went. The more time went on the more Eddie's instincts screamed that the Omega was his and the more Eddie forced himself not to think about it until all of a sudden Steve was just...gone.

Not gone gone of course. He sees him in the hallways and every now and then when Steve comes to pick the kids up from group hangouts that used to involve Steve on default. Robin also seems pissed at him which is its own thing, but Eddie would be lying if he said her glare didn't make him nervous.

He doesn't know what happened, but what he does know is that his chest hurts almost permanently now. He misses Steve like crazy and is determined to make them talk about whatever it is he did to make Steve avoid him.

Now if only he could get him alone...

------

Ran out of steam at the end there but in my mind Steve keeps avoiding Eddie with the help of Robin, Max, and Erica while Dustin, El, Will, and Lucas help Eddie. Mike would like for them to never get together, please and thank you.

After a couple of months of successfully avoiding Eddie, Steve decides to take up a beta's offer for a date which makes Eddie more jealous than he ever thought was possible. He's absolutely seething, even if he knows it's irrational to be that mad about an Omega he never had any claim over.

He ends up using the kids to break into Steve's house while he's out on the date to set up a competing date. He's all puffed up and ready to posture against Steve's date when he drops Steve off but instead, Steve walks up the driveway alone, looking defeated.

They argue on the front porch about why Steve has been so absent and eventually, Eddie deflates realizing that he's been hurting Steve with his inability to confront his own feelings.

He shows Steve the date he painstakingly set up for him inside, presenting his first of many courting gifts.

idiot4idiot steddie wins again🥰🥰🥰

[manchestereyes]

we may not think of dan and phil as outwardly romantic, but they are deeply romantic in the smallest ways.

dan, who we know is closed off to everyone else, will ask phil if he wants a call from him while he's in the hospital. he makes a list of things phil needs to do in elden ring while they're facetiming. he'll send phil texts in their own nonsense language to check in. he'll go to the ends of the earth to stand up for phil and his intellectual property, like the 7 second challenge. he'll go skiing without phil just to see if it's something phil would enjoy. but he keeps phil in the loop the whole time.

and phil. phil. he'll bring dan in for a video after one of the hardest years of dan's life, just to cheer him up. he gives dan the space to tell their story, trusting him with all his heart because they've been in this together since 2009 and navigated their way through hell and back. he films an extra segment while editing just to reiterate how much he loves dan's book. he cries at wad because it's the culmination of everything he's seen in dan for the past 13 years and finally the world gets to see that too.

they wait for each other to wake up so they can have breakfast and watch an anime together. they'll let each other know when their favorite treats are back in stock. they make sure they don't snack too much so they can have dinner together. they've intertwined their lives so deeply that they only grew closer after spending so much time apart. i can only imagine how wonderfully secure that feels. ❤️

[russellsppttemplates]

Bridging the Gap (Lando Norris)

A look into the Norris family summer vacation

Note: english is not my first language. It's been some time since I posted one of these, hopefully I still know how to do it 🥲 A lot of changes have been going on at my job and I've been trying to adjust to all of it without loosing my sanity! For those who are here and have stayed, thank you for being so patient and for staying - I hope this is good enough ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm not taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don't know when I'll be able to get to them!

my masterlist

Cw: reader is 4 years older than Lando, media scrutiny

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3 @sltwins

The low hum of the television filled the cozy apartment as you and Lando sat on the sofa, nestled comfortably under a soft blanket as his hands absentmindedly traced patterns on your thigh. Lately, it was one of your favorite pastimes - catching up on a show after a long week and simply enjoying each other's presence without having the world around you.

Life with Lando was unexpectedly delightful. His infectious laughter and zest for life were contagious, and even the most mundane days seemed brighter with him around, no matter how many clients you had that day or how much reading you had to do before their next sessions. At the beginning, you couldn't wrap your head around how the way your routines still laced together despite the seemingly different responsibilities, but you cherished the balance you shared.

"Do you have a busy day tomorrow?", your boyfriend asked.

"I have 8 clients, as two of them already cancelled because they're sick, but I managed to adjust the schedule and hopefully I have some time to go to the bank and see about my mortgage payments", you said.

"And in that rearranged schedule, is there a possibility of you spending the night here so we can wake up together before you go be a boss lady?", he wondered as he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, softly kissing the skin there.

"I have to be in the office at before 10 am, Lan, I can't have a lie in", you reasoned.

"I have to be up at 7 am to go on a run with Jon, so neither can I", he smirked, knowing he had all the reasons to convince you to stay, "we can have some breakfast together before you leave me".

"I guess I have time to pop home, change and get to work on time", you reasoned, agreeing with his plans.

"I'm glad you think that because my next step was going to kidnap you for the night - I'm talking locking the doors and throwing away the keys", Lando spoke.

Your laughs rubbled as Lando squeezed you tighter against him, basking in the warm feeling on his chest of having you for the rest of the night.

.

A few weeks later, Lando told you Max and Pietra would be in Monaco for a week since they hadn't spent some time together in a while.

"Do you know how your week is going to be? In terms of your schedule I mean", Lando mused, holding your waist as you stirred the food in the pot.

"I had some people move around from their usual schedule, so the weekdays end late but I don't have many appointments on Friday and I have Saturday off", you spoke.

"That's good, means we can spend a nice long weekend together", Lando smiled, kissing your shoulder before resting his chin there, "I'm not sure of all the plans yet but it’ll be fun! And they’re eager to meet you", he grinned, optimism lighting up his face.

"I'm excited to meet them too", you spoke, despite the one looming shadow. The thought of meeting Lando’s close-knit circle always brought a tinge of anxiety with it. His friends were used to seeing him as the carefree poster child of single life - never missing a party or the chance to get a little drunk. Hell, the idea that Lando would rather stay in on a Friday night, watching his girlfriend cook them dinner after spending the afternoon waiting for her to finish her online sessions would baffle Max and all of his friends.

And though Lando never seemed to mind, the idea of them questioning your relationship because of your age gnawed at your insecurity. Even when you were younger, the party scene wasn't your thing and as the years passed, it certainly didn't become it. You were fine with Lando enjoying himself whenever he wanted to and never once objected to that, but feared that his friends would question it.

"There's something on your mind, I can tell that", Lando spoke softly, "would you like to share it with me?".

"It's just...", you tried, knowing he would be able to tell you were lying and knowing that sharing this with him could ease your fears.

"Doesn't have to sound pretty or polished, I just want to know what is on your head", he encouraged softly.

"Maybe they won't want to spend time with me? They're coming here to see you and spend time with you, and there's always the possibility that they might now want to spend time with me", you let it out.

"Why do you think that?", he continued softly.

"Because I'm not hard-core, adrenaline seeking fun!", you added.

"Lovie, the plans we have are just enough fun for everyone, I didn't to do anything too hard-core and they don't either, so we'll be good and have plenty of fun together, yeah?", Lando assured, turning you around and kissing your forehead.

"You are starting to have a way with words", you mumbled, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin in such a protective manner, like no harm in the world could get to you if he was near.

"I catch on a thing or two you say", your boyfriend mumbled, kissing your lips slowly.

"I have to take my lunch to the office tomorrow, I don't have time to come home", you mumbled more to yourself than anything, taking a tupperware box from the cupboards so you wouldn't end up without your packed lunch.

"Pack two of them and I'll meet you in the office", Lando said like it was nothing.

"Sorry, what?", you asked again, afraid you had misheard him.

"You can pack two of them to go and I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow so you don't eat lunch all alone", Lando suggested.

"You don't have to", you reasoned.

"I know I don't, but I want to", Lando smiled, "the next couple of days are going to be busy for me and I need to fill up on time with you so my heart won't miss you as much".

He was ever the charmer and you still blushed at his words, not used to this no matter how many times he did it.

"Fine, but you can't mess up the crayons this time! You left one of them on the floor and I saw my life flash before my eyes when I stepped on it and nearly fell! No funny business in my office!", you joked.

"Does that mean we can't play Jenga and talk about my feelings? How dare you do that to me, woman?", Lando dramatised.

.

The first night of the week Max and Pietra would be spending in Monaco arrived quickly, and while the full day of sessions certainly kept your mind away from all of it, you found yourself at the door of your boyfriend's apartment waiting for him to get it.

"Hello, beautiful", Lando greeted as soon as he saw you, kissing your lips before letting you in, "let me take these", he said as he grabbed your bag and your coat.

"Thank you, I'm sorry I'm a bit late but the last session ran a bit longer than I expexted", you apologised, smoothing over your jeans and checking how you looked in the mirror - after the day you had, you couldn't expect much but you were pleasantly surprised that your hair was still bouncy and forgoing makeup was probably a good idea because you would have smudged it by now.

"You look beautiful as always, Y/N", Lando grabbed your attention, "and don't worry, take out is late too so you don't need to feel bad", he assured, guiding you with him to the living room where the noise was coming from.

"Guys, this is Y/N", Lando announced as they both welcomed you warmly, quickly asking you questions and letting you join in, preparing a drink for you.

"I'm usually heavy handed, but this one is proper, Y/N", he offered you before you took a sip, "I can fix a different one though!".

"It's good, it's good - hits the spot very nicely", you smiled, taking another sip before engaging in conversation.

When the food arrived, Lando asked you to join him in the kitchen to help him plate everything up and bring it to the dining table, opting to use the door closest to it so it would be easier.

As you crossed rhe hallway, you overheard Max and Pietra talking.

“Do you think it works?”, Pietra asked, “I mean, they seem happy, but Lando’s… well, Lando".

Max shrugged, “He’s crazy about her. Age doesn’t matter, does it? But yeah, never thought he’d settle, at least not like this".

You felt a small knot form in your stomach, but before you could dwell on it, Lando appeared at your side, his familiar warmth instantly reassuring as he placed his hand on the small of your back, “You alright?” he asked, noticing the brief flicker of uncertainty in your eyes.

“Yeah", you smiled, deciding in that moment that the security you had together was worth navigating any doubts from others.

As the evening continued, you noticed Max and P exchanging skeptical glances across the table - they're were known for their protective nature over Lando, Max is his bestfriend, so they are particularly wary of anyone close to their beloved friend.

Over the clinking of silverware and hum of conversations, Max finally spoke up, his tone casual but inquisitive, "so, how’s it really going, being with a guy who practically lives on a racetrack?”.

You felt Lando's reassuring nudge beneath the table, prompting you to respond with honesty, "It's definitely something else. Racing is such a demanding world, but we find balance by making time for each other away from it all. So far, it has worked out well".

P leaned back, observing the dynamic between the you, "there must be a lot of pressure, especially with so many eyes watching your every move".

Lando chimed in before you could respond, "Y/N handles it like a champ. Honestly, she’s the calm in my storm", he said, his eyes filled with admiration for you. There wasn't a day that you didn't handle it gracefully, whether it was a fan wanting to take a photo or a reporter wanting to know more than you allowed.

Max and P exchanged another look, this time softer and less guarded - little by little, they began to see what Lando meant by his earlier assurance that you kept him grounded.

As dinner progressed, the conversation turned to shared stories, with Lando guiding the discussion to include moments from your relationship - your mutual love for travel, how you introduced him to the joy of quiet moments, and even shared a humorous tale of your early dates, laughter erupting when he recounted an incident involving mistaking your office with the one next to yours, Lando accidentally entering the lawyer's waiting room with a massive bouquet of flowers and passes to golf.

Max's initial skepticism gradually melted away as he watched you interact. Lando's attentiveness was unmistakable - how he would lean in to catch your words over the din of conversations, or how his eyes crinkled in genuine amusement at your stories. He noticed how effortless and natural your connection seemed, a seamless blend of companionship and partnership.

By the time dessert came around, Pietra seemed convinced, "Alright, alright. I can see what everyone’s been talking about. You both really seem to understand each other in a way that's rare".

"You say that like we don't!", Max complained.

"Shut it, Max, you know what I mean", she mumbled.

Feeling the warmth of acceptance flood the room, Lando laid his hand over yours on the table, grinning with relief and contentment, "Told you she was amazing,” he said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

Max chuckled, raising his glass, "Okay, I admit defeat, I'm not sure we are like this!".

It was in that moment that you realized, the whispers of doubt that had once lingered were no match for the clarity of Lando’s affection. Together, you were creating a narrative all your own, one that defied stereotypes and embraced your unique bond.

.

As the days passed after the gathering, the glow of being surrounded by Lando’s friends began to fade, replaced by the nagging unease that had settled in your mind. You found yourself replaying the conversations from that night, the laughter, the glances, and especially Max's comment, which you still couldn’t quite shake off despite the way the night ended.

One evening, after a long day at work, filled with sessions and schedule arrangements thanks to the flu season, you sat on the sofa, scrolling through social media.

Your heart sank as you stumbled upon a headline featuring Lando. The article speculated about his relationships and how he was often deemed the ultimate bachelor, writing that they believed he wasn't about to change his ways. The more you read, the harder it became to ignore your worries.

Later that night, Lando arrived from his photoshoot, his laughter echoing as he stepped through you door. He instantly brightened the room with his presence, but you struggled to muster so much as a smile.

“Hey! Long day?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly, concern etched across his features as he took a good look at you.

“Just tired", you replied with a half truth. As you settled down, you felt the weight of the unspoken words pressing on your chest, knowing that sooner or later they would find their way out.

“Is everything okay?”, Lando probed, sensing the shift in your mood. Even when you had a bad day, the reception he got wasn't like this.

You hesitated, your thoughts swirling, Do you ever think about what people say… about us?”.

Lando paused, confusion washing over his face, "What do you mean?”.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, looking down, "Like, the way the media talks about you. Or how your friends might see us. What if they don’t accept me? They might think I’m not right for you… for your image".

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to concern, “Why would you think that?”.

“Because it’s true!”, you almost spat, frustration bubbling to the surface, "You’re this young, popular and successful Formula One driver, and I’m just… well, me. What if they think I’m just an older woman trying to latch onto your fame? What if they don’t see how happy we are?”.

“Stop it", he said gently, but firmly, “you’re not ‘just’ anything, or someone. You’re incredible, and I’m with you because I want to be. Age is just a number and it doesn’t define how meaningful our relationship is, not to me and it shouldn't be to anyone".

But your doubts resurfaced, relentless as you continued with your voice rising with each word, “But what if your family doesn’t feel the same? What if they think I’m not good enough for their sweet boy? I just… I can't help but overthink it. I love you, and I’m terrified of losing you".

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his and grounding you with his touch, something you explained to him early on that worked wonders for you, “I can’t control what others think, but my family will see how happy you make me. They care about my happiness, not just some number or date".

“But what if they don’t?”, you whispered, your voice trembling. Over the years, you could remember the times where you told patients exactly that, that their mind was looking for survival so that's where it took them.

“They will!", Lando stated, his grip tightening slightly, “Look, it’s not going to be like this forever. People talk, and yes, media can be ruthless, but what matters is how we feel about each other. And I feel lucky to have you in my life. Please trust that, my love".

You looked for reassurance in his eyes as slowly his words began to soothe the turmoil, but the fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

“I just don’t want to complicate things for you", you said softly.

Lando brushed his fingers against your cheek, a gentle smile breaking through your anxiety, "you’re not complicating things. You’re adding to my life in a way I never knew I needed. Can we just take this one step at a time together?”.

Lando pulled you into a warm embrace, and for a moment, the weight on your heart lightened. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay in the moment and be there.

“I’ll try", you finally spoke against his shoulder, feeling comfort in his unwavering support.

“I promise I'm not going anywhere", he whispered back, wrapping you tighter in his arms, "we’re in this together".

"Thank you", you mumbled, pecking his lips softly.

"You don't ever need to thank me, not for stuff like this or anything else, we're in this together, lovie", Lando kissed your forehead, "besides, if you ever dump me, I'll have to find a good psychologist to help me through it and you're the best one, so that's another valid point for us to stay together", he chuckled, wanting to get a giggle out of you.

Smiling when he succeeded, Lando squeezed you tighter against him, "never doubt that we were meant to be, Y/N, never".

[ylangelegy]

like a python 🧊 jihoon x reader.

jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him.

★ rockstar!jihoon x reader. ★ word count: 2.5k ★ genre/warnings: alternate universe: non-idol. jihoon-centric, childhood friends, yearning... so much yearning, young k makes a cameo, jihoon is a bit lame (affectionately), cussing/swearing. mentions of alcohol, food. ★ footnotes: got7 dropped winter heptagon and it's all i can think about. wrote this in one sitting as a show of gratitude to @chugging-antiseptic-dye for introducing me to these boys. haven't done a song fic in a hot minute, but for lee jihoon and got7? anything. shoutout to igot7_MarKP on twitter for the english translation of the lyrics.

🎧 now playing: python by got7 — i know i'm an icon, watch me with the lights on; but she got a hold on me like a python.

▸ MUSIC IS HOW I'VE BEEN VENTING NOW... OVERSEAS, I'M SELLING OUT.

It’s pretty surreal to Jihoon, being in a room with some of the biggest names in rock.

In the past hour alone, he’s met Alex Turner, Dave Grohl, and— holy shit, is that Hayley Williams? Jihoon is getting dizzy, and it’s not only because of all the secondhand smoke he’s inhaled since he got to the Rolling Stones afterparty. 

The best of the best. That’s what the invitation had boasted. It was the scene’s most coveted event, and Jihoon somehow made it to the guest list. 

Unbidden, your voice nags from somewhere in the back of his mind. You’re the best, Jihoon-ah. 

He shakes his head, like he’s physically trying to get away from the thought of you. This had been happening a lot more as of late. Fleeting moments wherein he’d imagine how you would react, what you’d say. 

But Jihoon always catches himself. He snaps himself out of it and goes back to recording, goes back to performing. 

God, he needs to get it together. He’s starting to regret saying ‘no’ to the cigarette Ely Buendia was offering him earlier. 

(In Jihoon’s defense, he didn’t smoke often. He didn’t want to fuck up his vocal chords. He had a one-cigarette-a-year rule, and he wasn’t about to use it now. It was only January; who knew what else the year would throw him?) 

Jihoon is contemplating some other vice— maybe he can go grab another beer— when he feels a tap on his shoulder. At the sight of who came up to him, Jihoon immediately folds into a bow. 

“There’s no need for that,” Younghyun says, equal parts amused and embarrassed. “We’re all the same here, yeah?” 

Jihoon pulls himself to his full height. “Not… really,” he says lamely, and then he immediately launches into mumbled apologies when he realizes how he might have sounded. 

It wasn’t that Jihoon thought he was better than his peers. Hell, he knew that he was the least important person in the room. That’s what he meant; they were not all the same, because Jihoon still had a long ways to go. 

Especially when compared to rock icon Young K, who is— gracefully— taking Jihoon’s awkwardness in stride. 

“You’re holding up a lot better than me,” Younghyun muses. “At my first afterparty, I threw up on Rupam Islam.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, unfortunately. He was very nice about it, though.” 

Jihoon lets out a stutter of a laugh. He’s never been a fan of small talk, but he clings to it now like a lifeline. “Does it get easier?” he asks. 

Younghyun’s eyebrows raise. “Throwing up on rockstars?” 

“No, no–”

“I was kidding,” Younghyun says in between chuckles. His expression is a little more pensive when he goes on, “I can’t say for sure that it gets easier, but you learn to deal with it.” 

You learn to deal with it. Jihoon can almost laugh at just how accurate that is. It seems applicable to every aspect of his life— including missing you. 

Jihoon winces. Younghyun notices. 

The older man doesn’t comment on it, probably thinks it’s something else entirely. Younghyun doesn’t flinch away, either, when Jihoon nervously says, “Can I ask you another question?” 

“Ask away,” says Younghyun. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

What is Jihoon doing? He doesn’t know either, but it’s either this or fight off the urge to run through a pack of Marlboros. “How do you cope,” he starts slowly, “with… feelings?” 

A beat. Crap. Jihoon realizes he definitely could have phrased that better, because Younghyun is now looking at him with an expression of mild confusion. 

Jihoon backtracks. “You— we— go through a lot in this field of work. Like, a lot. And you— fuck, fine, I’m— grateful for it, really, I swear. But there’s just… so much other things, too, aside from the gratitude. How do you cope with those?”

Jihoon knows he probably looks and sounds like a trainwreck in his bid to be deliberately vague. By some miracle, Younghyun at least seems to understand what Jihoon is trying to say.

Younghyun’s lip quirks to one side as he thinks of his response. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, but then he gives an answer that’s the last thing Jihoon could have expected. 

“I write,” Younghyun says. 

Jihoon blinks once. Then twice. 

“You write,” he repeats, and the former nods. 

“It’s all in my discography. The anger, the heartbreak, the love.” Younghyun raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve written nearly 200 songs, and all of them are just— that. Questions. Answers to questions. Feelings and stories.” 

It’s so simple, so obvious. It’s like a glaring traffic sign, like something that every musician should know and do.

Put it in a song. Perform it for thousands and leave the muse none the wiser. Profit. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Jihoon had done it a fair amount of times, but never had he considered putting you to pen and paper. The prospect of it makes something in his chest thrum. 

“I—” He clears his throat. “I think I have to go, sunbaenim. It was nice seeing you.” 

A hint of humor glints in Younghyun’s eye, like he’s somewhat aware of the fact he’s witnessing something unravel. “‘Younghyun’ is fine,” he chirps. “And it was nice seeing you, too, Jihoon. Take care of yourself.” 

The words— take care of yourself— are supposed to be a platitude. To Jihoon, it feels like a tall ask. 

▸ I'M TOURING THE WORLD BUT I'M MISSING THE ONE WHO HELD IT DOWN.

Jihoon is exhausted. 

As much as he wants to say that he’s never been this tired in his life, it’d probably be a lie. He’d make the claim, hit the road, then end up crashing out saying the same damn thing. He’s seen this film before; he knows how it ends. 

He falls back on his hotel bed after his shower. A low groan escapes him, and he sends up a silent prayer to all the higher powers there are. Thank you for sheets with a 300-500 thread count. Thank you for air-conditioning. Thank you for warm showers and Listerine. 

Despite his fatigue, Jihoon can’t just go to sleep. Post-show adrenaline always took a couple of hours to wear off.

He briefly contemplates his options. Write a lyric or two? Watch a shitty Netflix movie? Stare out the hotel window until his eyes can’t stay open anymore? 

None of the above, it seems, as he reaches for his phone. 

Jihoon has never been active on SNS; he just couldn’t bring himself to care about things like TikTok trends or Twitter ‘beef’. It’s a constant thorn in his PR team’s side. There is one thing that he bothers to check, though, and God forbid he deny himself the simple pleasure of some good ol’ fashioned pining. 

He’s been on your Instagram page enough times that it’s the first thing that shows when he goes to the search bar. It’s the only thing that shows, really, which gives some pretty good sense of where his head is at. 

Your profile loads. There’s no new post, no recent story. Jihoon is both disappointed and relieved.

No news is good news, he thinks to himself as he leisurely scrolls through the photos he’s already seen a dozen times before. You, feeding sidewalk cats. You, sipping tea at a cafe. You, in all the places that were once Jihoon’s, too. The beaches, the hiking trails, the restaurant in your shared neighborhood. 

Jihoon opens that particular post. Even though he’s watched your life in squares for the better half of the past three years, this is the one photo that always has him feeling a pang of… something. 

Because Jihoon can imagine it— being at that restaurant with you. The two of you had discovered it together, had pooled your measly school allowances to afford the bokguk and ganjang gejang. 

He imagines being there with this older version of you, being the one snapping the picture that’d find a spot on your feed. He can see it so clearly in his mind’s eye that if he really, really tries, it begins to look more like a memory than a daydream.

But he’s not in Busan, not even in Korea. He’s in the United States instead, where he has ten stops before heading to Canada and Europe. 

Sold-out stadiums. Thousands upon thousands of adoring fans. 

All the food that he could possibly want, and yet it’s pufferfish soup and soy sauce crabs that he’s looking for. 

Every person that he could possibly have, and yet. And yet. 

Jihoon huffs out a frustrated exhale. He’s tired, which he swears makes him delusional. 

He casts his phone aside, blissfully ignorant to the way his finger double taps his screen as he does. 

Halfway across the world, your phone pings

woozi_universefactory ✓ liked your post. 

▸ I'VE BEEN RUNNING BACKWARDS, RUNNING BACKWARDS LIKE A MARATHON.

The push notification glaring up at Jihoon looks a lot like a bomb that’s about to explode.

Jihoon feels like it’s a bomb, because he refuses to believe that after over a year of absolutely nothing, you’ve messaged first. You’ve messaged first. 

He double, triple checks his calendar. It’s neither of your birthdays. It’s not a holiday, either. Is it Chuseok? No— that doesn’t make sense. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he chides himself under his breath. It’s a text. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jihoon opens the notification. 

And then his heart just. 

Stops. 

You’d sent two messages— the first, being the post that had him spiraling last night. It’s the proceeding message that has Jihoon hoping the ground will swallow him whole. 

Stalking me, Jihoon-ah? 

Holy shit.

Jihoon types out at least three different messages, from Are you a fly on my wall to Is there a new Instagram feature I don’t know about to What happened to “hello, how are you”? 

In the end, he only sends back a single question mark. When he opens the offending post, he immediately sees his transgression. 

Jihoon hadn’t liked the photo before last night. He didn’t like much posts to begin with. How— When— 

His phone pings. He’s never been so thankful that he mostly opts to get room service for breakfast, because the squeak that he lets out is definitely not very rockstar-like. Jihoon fumbles, and he ends up opening your DM before he can psych himself up for it. 

LOL. Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, you say. 

Damn you and your ability to render him speechless. Jihoon wonders if he can get away with not responding, with getting back to you a couple of days later and blaming his work. 

Except. 

Jihoon’s fingers slowly move across his screen. 

It was a good post, he says. 

It was a post from a year ago, you answer. 

So? He throws in an emoji of a man shrugging for good measure. Jihoon never uses emojis, but he can make some exceptions. 

Your respond, So, stalking. You were stalking me. 

Jihoon knows he’s digging a hole for himself, knows he’s going to stay up several nights thinking of just how stupid he is. If he were a stronger man, he’d pull the plug on this conversation and that’d be it. You wouldn’t bug him. He would maybe write a song about this moment. The world would go on. 

But he can hear you. 

In the messages, in the words on his screen. He can hear your voice, the way you’d smile or laugh or tease. How you’d say his name in that sing-song tone he once pretended to hate. 

He hears you in your messages, and he’ll live with the secondhand shame if it means that he gets to keep on listening. 

Not stalking, he shoots back. Just checking in. 

Ah, you say. Because you missed me?~

Despite himself, he scoffs. You’ve always been so shameless. It didn’t matter to you that he was WOOZI the rockstar; to you, he would always be Jihoon who lived three houses down. 

As if, he says to your teasing.

You don’t respond anymore. You don’t even read the message, because Jihoon doesn’t see the little ‘Seen’ under his last message.

He waits for it for a minute. Then five minutes. Then seven minutes. He stops checking at the thirteen-minute mark, because he likes to believe he’s no longer a high schooler with a raging crush on the girl next door. 

He’s a grown man. He’s WOOZI, for Christ’s sake. 

He can’t keep coming back to you.

▸ I GAVE YOU MY TIME WHEN I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH; ALL OF MY FEELINGS, SWEPT UNDER THE RUG.

Except he does. 

WOOZI may not want to. WOOZI may be the bassist writing songs about the past in hopes of leaving things in the past, but Jihoon is a different story. 

Jihoon texts you the moment he lands in Gimhae International Airport. Jihoon stands outside your front door— definitely jetlagged, probably in need of a shower— with his luggage in one hand and his phone in the other. 

Jihoon acts like it’s the world’s biggest inconvenience when he tells you, “Come on, then.” 

The two of you get the crabs and soup. He refuses to talk about his time away; he contents himself with listening, like he always does, and you fill the silence with babble. Your desk job, your parents’ nagging, your hobbies and side hustles. 

“Probably not as interesting as your life,” you joke after a particularly long-winded anecdote about a delivery rider who got your address wrong. 

Jihoon neither confirms nor denies the statement. He only raises one eyebrow and gives you a wordless gesture with his hand. Go on anyway, he’s saying, and you take the cue. 

The meal ends. Jihoon invites you for coffee. Then ice cream. Then a walk. 

“This is very suspicious.” 

Jihoon can’t help it; a snort of laughter escapes him at your words. “Can’t a guy take a friend out to lunch?” he asks humorlessly. 

“And dinner,” you note. 

“And dinner, yes.” 

“And dessert.” 

“And dessert.” 

The two of you are taking the long way home. There’s something to be said about how Jihoon drags his feet, about how you walk like you’re not on borrowed time. Even your conversation moves like you’re beating around the bush.

There is an elephant in the room and Jihoon is done pretending that it’s not there. That it hasn’t been there since the day you two met in primary school, since the first time he held your hand as a teenager, since he became a musician and every song he performed became about you.

Jihoon doesn’t know how many years of pining he has left in him. 

“Are you dying?” 

Your blasé question draws a bark of laughter from him. “Jesus, no,” he says. “Do I have to be dying to want to see you?” 

You don’t answer right away. Jihoon once again has that feeling that he’s said something wrong, something loaded, but you save him from overthinking when you respond with, “You wanted to see me?” 

There it is. That teasing tone, that hint of a smile. 

You bump your shoulder against his. “You missed me, Jihoon-ah. Admit it.” 

And Jihoon is done, Jihoon is tired, Jihoon is still yours after all this time.

“Yeah,” he finally, finally says. “I missed you.” 

[mcrdvcks]

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

[msfantasy-anime]

The Second Wedding

Monkey D. Luffy x Reader

Summary: Sadden by Luffy’s rejection to get officially married Ace turns up and convinced Luffy to just do it.

Part X

“I refuse.”

Thinking back, your frown presses deeper upon your face because why the hell would Luffy refuse?

What’s wrong with that nincompoop? He’s stomped around for years telling anyone with ears that you two are married. After all this time, the moment you were ready to make this thing offical, he goes ahead and refuses.

You continue to lean against the alley wall, sulking, hiding away from the world.

With any hope, the ground will open you up and swallow you whole. You feel so utterly embarrassed and rejected by the one person who you thought would never.

“Mrs. Monkey.” A teasing gravely voice calls out. Looking up you see Ace crouching on the roof looking down at you.

“Ace!” You yell out, opening your arms wide as he leaps down and pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Now why are you brooding in some back alley huh?” He questions, pulling you back to see your fallen face.

“Uh… it’s nothing.” You sputter, quickly trying to regain your composure.

“Please kid, you can never hide yourself with me. After all I am your brother-in-law.” He teases with a jab to your ribs, causing you to giggle involuntarily. You kick at the ground sheepishly, unwilling to expose your silly thoughts. “Fine fine - don’t tell me then.” He says, throwing his arm around your shoulders and guiding you back to the streets. “So I ran into Sabo recently and he told me something interesting.”

“Hm, pray tell, what is this ‘interesting’ thing?” You can’t resist smirking back. You always loved your dynamic with Ace. As if you two shared a secret that no one else knows.

Ace looks around as if checking for any unwanted listeners. “He told me you are returning feelings for Luffy.” Your face turns red at the accurate accusation. “And I said ‘my little tsundere? There’s no way!’ And so here I am. I had to see for myself.” Your face burns in embarrassment.

“I-I’m not a tsundere.” You huff, turning your nose up at the suggestion.

But Aces head leans back with a hearty laugh. “So you deny being a tsundere but you don’t deny having feelings for Luffy… interesting.” He grins back at you making you feel like you’ve been caught red-handed.

“So what? Anyone would be.” You mutter making Aces brows turn up.

“You know we are talking about Luffy, right? My idiot younger brother?” You nod making his face scrunch up.

“So… how long are we going to dance around the fact you were moping around?” You cringe at the question, feeling utterly humiliated.

“I-“ Taking a deep breath you finally admit the truth. “I… want everyone to know… I want to make it official - but Luffy… he doesn’t want too.” Your face looks crest fallen, as if silently swallowing back the tears whelming beneath.

“That moron.” Ace grumbles, pulling you into his side more. “Don’t worry Kid, I’ll talk to him- speaking of the devil.” Luffy’s boisterous laugh echos through the crowd.

“Aceeee! What the heck are you doin here?!” Luffy cackles, throwing his stretchy arms though the crowd, grabbing a hold of Ace and launching himself in for an embrace. “It’s so good to see you!” He laughs continuously.

“Oi Luffy, come here a second. We need to have a little talk.” Ace throws his hulking arm around Luffy’s neck as he chokes on his rough hold.

You watch as Ace cups a hand to Luffy’s ear, whispering whilst Luffy continues to flail like the drama queen he is; until Luffy turns limp.

“Ohhhhh! Why did no one tell me this?! Thanks Ace!” Luffy pulls away from his older brother, grabbing your hand and begins to drag you to city hall.

“You two crazy kids have fun!” Ace yells, waving at you both.

“L-Luffy, where are you taking me?”

“We’re going to sign those marriage certificates you wanted.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“What made you change your mind?” You mumbled.

“Ace told me i just have to sign a piece of paper then I get to kiss you.” He replies, continuing to drag you along.

You begin to burst into laughter.

Because of course.

Your husband will do it all for a kiss.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Crawlin’ Back to You - Nanami Kento

Synopsis: Between fighting curses and typing out papers for what felt like hours, Nanami barely had enough time to see his safe haven. You. And after long, tiring, days, he finds himself crawling into your arms. A complete surrender to your embrace.

A/N: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS!!❤️❤️ This one shot was inspired by the hozier’s cover of Do I wanna know? I fear I love needy men and I was way to giddy for this.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

This was hell. Absolute hell. Nanami was used to bad days at work, office jobs were never easy, especially when he was a boss to so many. His eyes looked toward the clock on his wall and the big hand wasn’t getting any closer to eight. Today had to be the longest day of his life. Nanami left home around six in the morning since he was called to a mission with Ino. A level one curse that gave neither man a break.

Nanami was dirty and tired after the job, but as his luck would have it, he was sent to another site with Mei Mei. It was a bit easier and he got out sooner than expected. Sadly, he had work today as well. There wasn't any time to stop by his home and get a new set of clothes, so he settled for a quick shower at Jujutsu Tech and wore whatever clothes were put into a guest dorm. Nanami felt bad. Not in a physical way, more like guilty because he hasn't seen his beautiful wife all day. To make matters worse he has been cooped up in his office and the organized paragraphs are going to be the death of him. He could only think about what you were up to.

He knew at the least you were done making dinner, since that was the last thing you texted him. Nanami followed the message with relentless apologies, but you showed no sign of anger. It made him feel worse that you were so used to his absence. You understood he didn't want to stay away from you and you had your own work to deal with.

“Mr.Nanami, can I talk to you for a second?” A chirpy voice called from outside of his door.

Nanami thanked the engineer for not making his office out of glass, otherwise his poor employee would see the very noticeable scowl spreading on his face. He pondered if he could stay quiet and the man would walk away, but then Nanami heard a persistent knock on his door. Swallowing an angered groan, Nanami spoke up,”Yes, come in.”

Akio, a man who has worked under Nanami for a little over a year now, walked in. He had a bright smile on his face, one that made Nanami internally cringe. How could someone be happy this late at night? Nanami tried to hide his dejected expression,”What did you need to speak with me about?”

Akio sat in a cushioned chair ahead of his boss, looking way too excited for whatever this talk was about. Nanami is eye twitched behind his glasses as the man fixed his suit. Truthfully, he couldn’t give a shit about professionalism. Nanami just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

“I would like to ask for a raise.”

Could the universe hate Nanami more? He really did not want to have this conversation. The blonde sat stiffly in his chair, his eyes locked onto his employee, but his mind wandering elsewhere. Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow? I was planning on raising his salary anyways, is he really this persistent? It’s already eight. If this runs on for too long I’ll have to cut him off. Let him down easy and say I’ll think about it.

By the time the clock hit 8:30, Nanami was tired of Akio’s rambling. So with a pat of his thighs, Nanami stood, clearing his throat,”Thank you Akio, I appreciate your hard work and dedication to the company,” He shook his employee’s hand,”I will definitely look into that.” Akio nodded happily,”Thank you,Sir.”

He walked out proudly and now Nanami was free. The conversation had ran thirty minutes longer than Nanami wanted. As he closed down his office, stacking papers, and flicking off lights, Nanami was more than ready to head home. The drive was smooth and quick. He may or may not have pushed a little past the speed limit, but it was all in the name of good. His finger tapped the steering wheel impatiently, if there was any faster way to get home, he would take it in a heartbeat. When his headlights scan over the front of your shared house, his antsiness is gone.

The second his car was parked and turned off, Nanami was rushing to the door. When he opened it, his nose was filled with mouth watering scents. He was a bit confused, since you probably should have been in bed by now. Shutting the door behind him, he loosened his tie and heard you working in the kitchen. At this point the food wasn’t his main focus, it was you. Desperation sank into his body and he practically stumbled to your space. Nanami saw your back turned, fixed on the mixture in a pot, then you turned.

You gave him a light smile,”Hi Honey,” Your voice was as sweet as ever,”Welcome home.” Before you could even let go of the spoon in your hand, Nanami was already holding onto you. His grip was tight and at first you expected it to be a usual hug, that was until he didn’t let go. You quickly understood the gesture and let go of the ustensil, wrapping both arms around his shoulders.

Against your neck, you could feel your husband breath in, as if trying to absorb every inch of you. You could feel the relief in his body as it melted against you. Nanami was a strong man, one who always held a stern face, but that all washed away once he was with you. One of his arms wrapped all the way around your back and the other rested loosely below it. His fingers lifted your loose t-shirt and gently caressed your skin. There was no lust in his touch. No. He only craved your body for the soul purpose of feeling like no matter what you would always be waiting for him.

“I’ve missed you. A lot.” He mumbled. Your hand ran up to his hair, softly playing with his blonde locks,”I know, My love.” You hummed,”And I’ve missed you more.” If work had run on a little longer, Nanami was sure he would have shed a tear. All of his frustrations and pain were lifting off of him. Nanami was sure your touch held some sort of divine power, because no one ever made him feel like this. He was weak to your hands, your presence, just you in general.

No words were exchanged and the two of you stood there. Your fingers find new areas so lovingly touch. If you had the power, you would take away all of Nanami’s stress, but that was impossible. So, he settled for crawling back to you by the end of the day. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t be the last time Nanami would have to stay away from you the entire day, but in the end you would be waiting for him. Always.

[ghosty-writes-23]

Kneeling Before Her. - Leon S Kennedy.

Ghosty's Notes: okay so this was a random idea I had randomly thinking about Wife!FemReader + Older!Leon (Between Damnation & Vendetta.) also I wrote this on my phone which is something I don't normally do, but it's like 2am and I can't be stuffed grabbing my laptop, so please forgive me if their is alot of spelling mistakes.

Summary: Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot lately, but even with how much they where fighting it didn't stop them from desiring each other.

NSFW Tags: Smutty Content, Eating Out, Pleading, Body Worship, Desperate!Husband!Leon, Hope for the future, Happy Ending.

Used Pet Names: Darling, Sweetheart, Princess, Love, Good Boy, My Wife.

| ID!PROFESSOR!LEON COMING IN 2 DAYS |

!Unedited!

Word Count: 1.9k

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot recently, from small things such as dirty dishes in the sink to Y/n tripping over Leon's alcohol bottles and she had enough. Tonight was like any other night, Leon was coming home from a mission and smelt like a brewery, the pair had argued yet again, Y/n was upset Leon had come home drunk and Leon was trying to justify he wasn't that drunk yet he could barley walk a straight line, she had guested one of the staff from the bar had called him a taxi because there was no way in hell he would be able to drive in the state he was in.

Sometimes she felt as if Leon treated her as if she was dumb, she knew this wasn't what he really thought of her, but when he was drunk he would treat her as if she was an idiot and it was getting on her last nerve, there is only so much a person can take before they snap, as Leon passed out on the living room couch Y/n had thrown a blanket over him and left a bottle of water and Advil on the coffee table before going upstairs to what used to be their shared bedroom.

Leon mostly slept in the spare bedroom when he was home, it was strange feeling to feel alone in her own house even with Leon home. Shaking her head Y/n closed the door and started to get ready for bed, such as doing her nightly routine of showering, changing into comfortable pajamas, drying her hair and doing nightly skincare and brushing her teeth and taking the last of her medication for the day.

When she got into bed, she couldn't help but wonder how did her and Leon's relationship end up like this, she knew Leon had alot of trauma before they had met, he had warned her that he wasn't the most easiest person to get along with but that didn't stop Y/n, she didn't see Leon as the government agent or the weapon that most people seemed too, but just a man that had the worse timing most of the time but once he started to open up he was a complete sweetheart.

When they had gotten married Y/n and Leon had gotten married in 2006 she thought everything would be perfect, they would have a house maybe out of town, maybe a fixer upper they could do together as a couple project, like an old historical cottage that has a nice front yard where she could plant flowers, maybe have a dog or a cat.

Leon would have left the government and got a less dangerous job after he found out she was pregnant, everything was meant to fall into place, but sometimes promises are broken even by the people we love the most, this had lead Y/n to start wondering was Leon still the man she had fallen in love with and married all those years ago, or was that man gone and replaced with an drunk, anger hollow shell of his former self.

Shaking her head Y/n turned off her bedside table lamp and layed back in bed, all this thinking was hurting her brain so she decided to try and get some sleep, even if she had to force herself too.

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Later on in the night the small city apartment was quiet, the only sound was a ticking clock and the soft hum of the fridge, but upstairs their was a soft buzzing sound and muffled soft mews filtering from under the door. Y/n had her eyes closed as she worked the toy on it's medium setting, after forcing herself to sleep only to end up tossing and turning, she knew the perfect thing to put her to sleep.

It was the ultimate relaxer or so she thought, her bottom lip was between her teeth as her middle finger and ring finger where working her clit, her other hand was working the toy inside her quivering walls. She couldn't remember the last time she had to use her toy to get off, usually her fingers would work just fine but she knew her body was craving something or somebody else.

In her mind was replying the last time Leon had touched her, when her hands where gripping his pillow as her hand was buried in it, his hand was in her hair, tugging firmly but not to roughly as he thrusted into her from behind, he had come home from a stressful work day and needed to let off some steam and who was she to say no to her husband, with Leon's stamina they would at least go for 2 maybe 3 rounds.

But she was soon pulled out of her fantasy when she heard footsteps, she slowly turned off the toy before hearing a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Y/n spoke softly soon the door opened and Leon sheepishly walked in only wearing his briefs and no short, he looked more sober but their was still bags under his eyes. "Did I wake you?" Y/n asked causing Leon to shake his head as he closed the door behind himself.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." Leon spoke as he started walking towards their old shared bed, Y/ was at a lost for words this was the first time he apologized for anything in the past few weeks, so she was a little surprised but before she could get any words out, Leon slowly lowered himself to his kneeled in front of her, his head down as if he couldn't make eye contact with her.

"I'm so sorry for being a shitty husband, I know I should have come to you, I just didn't want to burden you with my problems, I wanted to protect you from them, but instead I did the exact opposite." Leon says before he shakes his head before finally he looks up at her. "I know I don't deserve you Y/n or your forgiveness, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Leon says causing her heart to skip a beat.

"You really hurt me." Y/n started and Leon put his head down like a puppy that was in trouble, "I know princess." Leon says shamefully. "But I am willing to forgive you if you promise this behavior stops now okay, I want you to go to counseling and get help." Y/n says and Leon listens and nods his head. "I'll start looking in the morning." Leon says causing Y/n to smile ever so slightly and nod her head, maybe this wasn't the end of their marriage.

"Good." Y/n said and just as she was about to move over in the bed, Leon reached out to grab her wrist to stop her, but as he did she knew he felt her hand was wet, she saw his eyes widen slightly before he started to bring her hand to his lips. "Leo-." she tried to protest but soon his lips where around her fingers.

the warm and soft feeling of Leon's mouth on her fingers caused her to gasps softly, their was something so erotic about a man on his knees lapping and sucking his wife's juice's off her fingers, especially a man that hasn't tasted her in months. she watched Leon her thighs clenching together as his tongue gently gliding between her fingers.

But soon Leon let her finger's go with a soft pop, a string of his saliva was between her now drool covered fingers and his lips, he looked up at her she could see the desperation and the lust in his eyes, because her were probley mirroring the same look ad if she was honest she was too pent up to let this moment slip through her fingers.

"Can I have more." Leon asked his voice was more husky but still had a slightly desperateness to it. "Will you be a good boy?" Y/n asked with a small tease in her voice but Leon nodded his head quickly, instead of getting up onto the bed so he could be comfortable, Leon was still kneeling on the ground but moved her so she was sideways on the bed but her ass was on the edge of the bed.

Leon started peppering kisses down her ankle, to her legs and then to her thighs, her body was starting to warm up, her thighs clenching with every soft press of his lips, she was nearly about to put him in a headlock between her thighs. When he finally got the edge of her panties that she knew where soaked, she let out a little mew as she could feel his warm breath against her.

"Please can I taste you now sweetheart." Leon softly pleaded as he looked up at her, she knew he was pulling the puppy dog eyes but even with the bags under his blue eyes and the stubble on his face that she knew would be scratching against her inner thigh. Y/n nodded her head again biting her lips.

She could see a small smile come onto Leon's face, as his index finger hooked into the side of her panties, he then lent in and placed a gentle kiss on her aching clit and quivering folds causing a soft moan to leave her lips and her fingers to go into his dark hair. She heard Leon groan softly as he started to lick and suckle as if he was savoring every moment of this.

His name falling off her lips in sweet moans and mews, the sound filled the bedroom as she gently gripped his hair, this was what she had missed the most between their fighting, she missed the intimacy between them, the love, affection, desire, want and need for each other what they can only get for each other, it almost made tears spring to her eyes.

Looking down Y/n saw Leon's face was buried between her holds, his eyes closed as he feasted on her like a starved man, she knew she wasn't going to last long as she already felt the familiar knot forming in her stomach. "It's okay, darling you can come for me." Leon grunted against her flesh, his stubble starching against her inner thighs.

With Leon's permission she came on his tongue with a high pithed cry of his name, her back slightly arching off the bed as her thighs trembled around his head, Leon helped her ride out her orgasm before he pulled away after placing a gentle and loving kiss on her folds, his face was coated in her slick but their was a small blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, there was a slightly glazed over look in his eyes.

But when she looked down, saw that Leon's cock was straining through his brief's he shook his head before slowly standing up. "Tonight was about you, I'll do deal with this." Leon spoke causing her to pout slightly but she nodded his head, he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before he headed to the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom.

Maybe this was the start of the new beginning, maybe their was hope for their relationship, Y/n could only hope and pray but this was a good start and it could only get better for here....

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

[fuk3d]

A Moment In Time

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warning(s): Mentions of neglect, verbal abuse, and self-doubt.

Word Count: 1,074

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time getting back into writing fanfic since 2016 LMAOOO. Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is pure shit so pls feel free to give me constructive criticism. AND PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE'S MISTAKES CUZ THATS EMBARRASSING HAHA. Also writings cringe as hell so soz.

The Wayne resident felt empty, soulless, cold, and you couldn't bare the stillness of it all. So you step out onto the balcony, coffee in hand with the chilling air biting at your fingers harshly. You absentmindedly sipped on your coffee, the warm sensation from your cup steadily combating the freezing cold. The garden's atmosphere was filled with tranquility, the sun's rays slowly touching everything in its path. 

If only it could be like this forever.

You breathe in a shaky sigh and flutter your eyes to a gentle close, small puffs of air exit your mouth as you exhale out slowly. This would be the last time you’ll be gazing down at the alluring range of flowers scattered across the garden, its colours radiating brightly from the warm sunrise as it gently caressed the horizon. You can’t help but think back to all of your greatest achievements, your not so finest moments, and the bitter reminder of lonely memories that are left dormant inside your mind.

What more could I have done? Why didn’t I try harder? Why? Why, why, why, wh-

“Young (Name)? Are you alright? It’s cold out there, you should come back inside, where it’s warm.” Your eyes snap back open and you turn your body to face your family butler, Alfred. You blink, then you blink again, until you sputter out your reply with a wobbly smile. “Alfred! I’m- I’m fine, I just wanted to have my coffee out on the balcony.” ‘one last time’.

You turn to breathe in the fresh air for the final time before leaving the balcony area in silence. Today is your 18th birthday, and yet it doesn’t feel like it. A birthday is supposed to be a milestone, something to be celebrated with friends and family, with loved ones.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, a shudder leaves your lips, the icy temperature sending chills throughout your body. You find yourself sitting down near the kitchen table, your lukewarm coffee still in hand. And Alfred all but quietly makes your favourite breakfast, just how you’ve liked it for the last 18 years of your life. It’s been hard, you think to yourself. The unwarranted isolation from Bruce, the hurtful, cut-throat words thrown towards you from Damian as if you were a burden, the excuses from Dick, claiming he already had plans made so “Maybe next time! Yeah?”. And you remember so vividly of Jason pushing you away, as if the bond you two shared didn’t matter anymore. The fond memories, the time spent together, gone, just like that after he had died.

And how could you forget about Tim? Or about Cass, Barbara, Stephanie, and Duke? None of them rarely ever put in the effort to spend even a fraction of their time with you. But it doesn’t matter to you, right? No, not even a single bit, you don’t care anymore; of course you don’t care! Because you’re done, you’re done being in the shadows, done being stuck within those four tiny walls that had been called ‘your room’, and done with not being anyone's choice, especially not even your fathers. 

Even so, that's not true is it? You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to yourself. You do care, and it stings because you’ve been caring up until you forced yourself not to anymore.

With your heart held heavy in your chest, an indescribable ache creeps up your throat as you recount the gut-wrenching memories that you struggle to desperately shake from your head, your now empty cup sits cold on the table in front of you. 

“Breakfast served.” Alfred slides a plate of your favourite in front of you. Your lips are stretched into a light smile, yet it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you Alfred..” You say before the both of you are engulfed in comfortable silence. You eat your breakfast at a comfortable pace, savouring the delectable taste that fills your mouth before inevitably finishing your breakfast. Your family's butler busies himself by cleaning the kitchen counter, wiping it down with careful precision before moving down to wipe down the very kitchen table you sit at. “Hey, uhm Alfred?” You speak up before you can even stop yourself, the words stumbling out in a fervent storm. 

“Will you miss me when I move out?” Alfred can only stop and look at you, really look at you. And from the looks of it, you appear collected, indifferent even, but to your butler he notices nearly everything about you. The way you play with your hair when you’re nervous, or how you fiddle with your fingers when you’re uncomfortable and the slight furrow of your eyebrows as you concentrate. So you can’t help but shrink just a little at his expression, his features showing no emotion for you to understand what he’s feeling. 

“I know you’re busy assisting the families business with… their nightly duties and... and I realise I’ve been such a burden to you and the family, but I know I’ll miss you the most out of everyone so-” 

you’re abruptly cut off by the shuffling of Alfred’s feet walking towards you, his arms enveloping you into a hug. A hug that was desperately needed and long overdue. You reciprocate Afred’s action’s and tightly wrap your arms around him, your hands scrunching up Alfred’s uniform because of how hard your hands are balled up into fists. You’re stunned, too puzzled to speak as Afred’s begins to speak. 

“You will be missed dearly Young [Name]. You’re smile, you’re creativity, you’re ideas, our time together; I’ll miss all of these things, those moments that we have.” a pleasant warmth settles within you, Alfred’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, bringing you to his chest as he pats gently. It’s barely audible but it's there, a small sniffle once, twice, then a series of them start to fill the empty rooms' quietness. Tears start to well up within your tear ducts except you refuse to let them fall despite a few already running down your face. You cry, you just feel so scattered and a bit of a mess right now as your tears and snot stain Alfred's clothes.

You let yourself be in the moment, you let down your walls and stripped away the hard exterior around your heart. You’re vulnerable and…  it feels great. 

For once you feel relieved. Happy.

Credit to @adornedwithlight!

End Note: Just to rephrase, this is my first time getting back into writing fan-fiction so I'm rusty asf lol. And any writers that have been doing this for way longer than me, please give me some tips or advice on how I can improve my own writing LMAOO.

[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER FOUR: Pride Parades and Christmas Dinners

SUMMARY: Paige and Azzi learn about gay people, in severely different situations. Gay marriage is legalized in Virginia, and the girls think about what that means to them. Teenage girls can be absolute bitches, especially the rich ones.

NOTE: This one was meant to have more scenes but as I was writing them I realised that it was going to be like way longer if I did that. So the stuff from that bit will be the next chapter, and then the chapter after that the other stuff I was going to do in this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy this one, feel free to give me feedback as I'm the only one editing my stuff so I might be leaving plotholes and grammar mistakes in. Again, thanks so much for the support :)

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Warnings: Mentions of parent leaving, angst, homophobia, homophobic slurs 6.9k words (lol) Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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10th of JUNE, 2007

EDINA, MINNESOTA

Paige Bueckers was five years old when she first learnt about gay people.

She had been driving somewhere unremarkable with her mom and dad. She sat in the backseat, watching the familiar Minnesota scenery speed by in a blur. The radio played softly, the sound muffled by the rush of air coming through the open windows. It was a rare thing, the summer heat. Paige had only experienced it for a few weeks a year for most of her life. She had decided she liked the way the sun felt as its’ rays blared down on her face, even if it left her skin pink and tender afterwards. 

Because of the sunshine, and the fact that it was so rare, nearly ninety-percent of the Minnesota population was outside, some hosting barbecues and pool days. Others were simply lying in the sun as they appreciated the rare chance to catch some vitamin D in temperatures above forty degrees fahrenheit. 

Finally, after what could have been hours or mere minutes in the car, the little family had reached their destination, The memory of where and when would be lost to Paige in the years to come. The day had been unbearably mundane, and up until leaving the car, it appeared that it was going to stay that way; that was until their family (in particular her mom) spotted a massive gathering of people.

Looking at the group was like looking at a rainbow. They had fun, upbeat music blasting all throughout the street. It was so loud that Paige’s little body had shook slightly at a particularly strong bass note.

“What’s that?” She had questioned good-naturedly, pointing at the large group

“It’s disgusting is what it is!” Amy hissed back, before she stormed off to the edge of the footpath beside them.

Bob had held Paige to his chest as they both watched Amy spill a slew of hateful comments at the joyful group of people.

“You’re all going to Hell! All you fags and dykes are!”

A young dark man turned towards her, his body shimmering, skin glittering gold under the sun. With his middle finger raised he yelled back, half-laughing,  “Well I guess we’ll see you there, you crazy bitch!”

Her mom went silent then, before she huffed indignantly and power-walked off in the direction of wherever it was they had been going.

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The moment lingered in the back of Paige’s mind as the day passed, the more she thought about it the more she wanted to throw up. 

Even as she laid in bed, waiting for her dad to come in and tuck her into bed, her mind was replaying the moment like a broken record player scratching its way through the same portion of a song, again and again.

She thought back to the words her mom had used. She had never heard words like those before.

“Fags.”

“Dykes.”

In the dark of her room she whispered the phrases. Simply feeling them leave her mouth was unpleasant, they were heavy, and they tasted sour. Despite the bitter taste that lingered in her mouth, seeping into her taste buds, she kept on going, repeating them over and over and over.

They left a weird feeling in her chest, and she could feel her face twisting and contorting at the tart sensation of saying the words out loud.

She thought of the way her mom had looked, on the side of the road. She had been red all over, a vein popping out of her neck with the force with which she’d said the words. 

It was disgusting. 

Paige, in her very few years of living, had never seen her mom like that. Not when she found out that Paige had made a sharpie masterpiece on the living room walls. Not when she had walked in on Paige cutting her long blonde hair off in choppy chunks with the kitchen scissors. Not when Paige had fed her uncle’s dog chocolate, because “He deserves to try some!”. Even in her worst moments she had never ever seen Amy Bueckers that angry. 

It didn’t make any sense to her, the whole scene had been so beautiful, the group of people glowing red and blue and yellow and every shade in between. Big pieces of fabric had been hoisted up into the sky. The sun had shined down on them like a spotlight, illuminating the beauty of the moment.

So why had her mom gotten so angry? Why had she used those words? What did they mean?

Amidst her pondering, her dad walked into her room. He stopped mid-step and stared at her. 

Paige hadn’t realised that as she lost herself in her thoughts, the words had kept flowing out of her, her mouth had gone numb to the venom that came with saying the names. He continued to stare at her for a minute, he watched as she noticed him and slipped out of her trance. Finally, the words stopped falling out of her mouth.

She turned to look at him and smiled, all milky little teeth and youthful innocence. Hearing those words come from someone so beautiful and young was vile. But hearing it from the mouth of his daughter made bile rise in his throat as his heart dropped to his stomach. It was wrong, all wrong.

Bob realised then that he had a choice to make. He had learnt over the years that he couldn’t control Amy’s questionable politics, something he had chosen to overlook for the sake of love. Yet, the thought had never occurred to him that one day Amy’s beliefs would impact Paige. 

He turned, ducking his head into the hall to check that Amy was still in her spot on the couch, watching whatever lifestyle garbage was playing on the TV. He closed the door softly and came to sit on the edge of Paige’s bed.

“Honey, I need you to know something.” He said it with soft seriousness, piquing Paige’s interest  immediately

“What?” She questioned, big blue eyes staring up at him intently.

“Those words you were saying before, do you know what they mean?”

“No, I just know them ‘cause that’s what mom was saying.”

Bob felt a stab of guilt. That’s exactly what every parent never wants to hear, that their five-year-old was repeating slurs in their bedroom because ‘that’s what mom was saying’.

“Well I need you to know that they are very bad, mean words. And I want you to promise me that you will never, ever use them, okay?” He was looking at her like what he was saying was important, and even though she didn’t really understand, she knew that it really mattered to him.

“Okay. But why dad?” Paige had always been one to question authority, a habit that Bob and Amy had worked tirelessly to decrease. But as she asked her voice was filled with nothing but genuine curiosity.

“Well… you know those people we saw today?” He said slowly, trying to figure out the right way to explain to someone so young.

“The ones mom yelled at? With the pretty rainbows?”

It killed him, it really did, it was the last kind of conversation that he wanted to have with her. He should’ve been tucking her into bed, reading her a bedtime story about magical adventures with swords and castles and happy endings. Not reminiscing on the pride parade that her mom had quite literally rained on.

“Yeah, those ones. They were celebrating this thing called ‘Pride month’, which is for gay people.” As Bob spoke Paige nodded along, taking in the information.

“It looked fun.” She smiled. 

“Yeah, it did.” He smiled back.

“So what are gay people?”

“Gay people are boys that like boys and girls that like girls.” Bob explained, trying to put it into the simplest terms he could muster up.

“Hmmm, okay” 

“And I need you to know that they’re just as important as anyone else. Whoever it is that you love doesn’t make you better, or worse than anyone else.” He said the words with conviction, and Paige hummed in understanding. She was the brightest and kindest little girl he had ever met, it was amazing -and slightly disheartening- that a five year old could understand that respecting other people for who they were was basic decency when her own mother couldn’t.

As Paige stared ahead, deep in thought, a moment of silence passed.

“Do you think I’m gay? All my friends are girls.” She asked, brows furrowed as she contemplated. He nearly chuckled at her question. It was so naive, but the good kind. The kind that came from a place of genuine curiosity and wonder, the kind that was endearing and left a warm glow in his chest.

“I can’t tell you if you’re gay or not.”

“Oh.” This seemed to puzzle her. Her dad could tell her what time to go to bed and what she was going to eat for dinner, but not if she was gay? It just didn’t make sense in her little brain.

“But what I can tell you, is that no matter what you are, gay or not, I love you.” His voice wobbled the tiniest bit as he leant down to hug her tight. “I love you to the moon and back, You’re my whole universe Paigey.”

“I love you too Dad” She squealed, squeezing him as close as she could.

“See you in the morning kiddo.” He said as he flicked off the overhead lights and shut the door.

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The best Bob could hope is that Paige forgets the whole day, letting the memories of her Mom’s outburst fall away with the unremarkable detritus that comes with childhood.

But if not, if somehow the memories did stick, and Paige were to look back on the moment in the years to come, he hoped that she would know better than her mom. That she would think back to the radiant group of people and see them with nothing but love. That she would know her mom was wrong in what she had said.

But above all, he hoped that she remembered that he loved her, and he hoped that that could be enough.

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24th of DECEMBER, 2007

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Just like Paige, Azzi Fudd had also learnt about gay people when she was five years old.

It was Christmas Eve, and the Fudd’s were driving to their Aunt Karly’s house in Richmond. 

The house was beautiful, all red brick walls and white detailings, ivy growing up the sides. In every room there were intricate stained glass windows, and when the light shone through the walls turned a million different colours. There were rooms upon rooms, each with their own color scheme and furniture style. Azzi and her brothers would stay in the room next to her parents, with a triple bunk bed and flowery green wallpaper.

Azzi simply adored the house, but what she adored most was the gardens. 

The house was located on the very outskirts of Richmond, so there was much more land than what was normal for the area. Nearly every inch of the property was covered with grass so green it seemed nearly impossible that it could be real. Trees of every kind -orange, lemon, mango- littered the property. The best bit though, in Azzi’s opinion were the rose bushes, found nearly everywhere, under the windows, around the fence. But the best bit of all was outside the back of the house where the flower garden was. Not only were there roses but hydrangeas and lilies and lavender, all leading up to a little gazebo. 

It was simply magnificent. But it also required  a lot of upkeep, a job that aging Aunt Karly simply wasn’t able to do. So instead Karly had hired a local, recent college graduate to care for the grounds. She had been pleasantly surprised at the young girl’s gardening skills, and even more pleasantly surprised when her daughter, Ruby, had revealed that she was dating their gardener, Peyton.

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After an hour or two they had finally reached the stretch of road that led to the house. Azzi got that same giddy feeling she felt every time they visited, the house felt magical. When she was running around the garden everything was possible, she loved it.

Another moment passed, Azzi’s excitement bubbling in her chest, then, the house finally came into view. It was tall and wide and fenced off, though the gates were never closed, literally and metaphorically.

The house was perfect for hosting the massive, Christmas get-together that was held every year. Generosity was undoubtedly an innate trait of the Fudd family. Not one single member of the family, oldest to youngest, could recall a Christmas that they hadn’t opened their invite to at least five non-Fudds. They would always tell whoever they invited that it was a gift to have them there, that the best part of Christmas was spending time with family both old and new. Most often the people invited had lost their own families to disease, or were far away from home for whatever reason, and they would almost always return for years after that, some even bringing the families they’d built since.

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That year, in light of their new relationship and Peyton’s lack of supportive family, Ruby was bringing Peyton to christmas. Karly had reassured Ruby that Peyton was a lovely girl and everyone would love her, but still Ruby was worried that some of the guests' archaic views would make for an awkward gathering.

She knew she was spiraling, but she couldn’t help but worry that even little Azzi would judge them. 

A few nights before the get-together, on one of their weekly skypes, Ruby had tried to bridge the topic with Azzi.

“So Az, y’know how we invite lots of people to Christmas?” She asked, attempting to start the slightly dreaded conversation.

“Yeah! It’s my favourite bit.” She responded, voice high with excitement. Ruby went to continue before she was cut off by Azzi, “Wait, my favorite is potatoes actually. ”

That caused her to chuckle a little, her little cousin’s youthful sincerity easing her worries, if only for a minute.

“Well… I just wanted to tell you that I’m bringing our gardener, Peyton. She’s my…” As she neared the end of her sentence she lost confidence before trailing off quietly. She went silent for thirty seconds as she stared down at her hands. When she looked back up Azzi was staring at her, waiting patiently for a response. She realised then that she still needed to finish her sentence, “She’s my friend.”

“So she’s the one who makes the garden pretty?” Azzi asked inquisitively.

“Yeah, that’s her.” Ruby responded, her nerves only building from the fact she still hadn’t told Azzi about her.

“She’s really good, I’m so so so excited to meet her!” She grinned wide. Ruby knew how much she loved the gardens, and desperately hoped that Azzi would love Peyton just as much.

As her bedtime grew closer Azzi began to grow sleepy. Finally, after her third yawn she decided to admit defeat and called her dad to tuck her into bed, leaving Katie to talk to Ruby.

Katie and Tim both knew that Ruby was dating Peyton, and Katie could sense Ruby’s palpable anxiety about the whole situation. Jose and Jon weren’t yet old enough to fully understand what it meant to date, but Azzi had just reached the age where she could understand the concept of relationships, and she had become quite obsessed with the novelty of the whole idea.

“You know you can tell her honey, she won’t mind, she’ll probably just want to know when you guys are getting married!” Katie explained with a soft smile.

“I know I don’t have any reason to worry, but I am anyway.” Ruby explained. She had always been close to her aunt, who was just as tough as she was soft.

“It’ll be okay hon, I promise.” The red-haired woman soothed. 

Ruby was still very nervous, but she realised that there was no point worrying about something that hadn’t even happened yet. She also remembered that Azzi was the most loving kid she had ever met, and if anyone was going to be supporting her, it was Azzi.

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 After finally managing to wrangle their three young children out of the car, their family stood knocking at the front door step. They could hear footsteps coming towards them. Ruby opened the door and Azzi flung herself into her, she was tall for her age, but not tall enough to reach past her hips, so she settled for squeezing her legs.

“Nice to see you too Azzi!” Ruby chuckled as she shuffled them inside, Azzi seeming intent on not letting go.

The rest of her family had dispersed to go say hi to everyone else there. When Azzi finally let go she was met with the sight of an unfamiliar face.

“Hi Azzi! I’m Peyton, I’m Ruby’s girlfriend, and I work in the gardens.” Peyton smiled, kneeling to be face to face with the little girl. She was really pretty, she had short blonde hair and bluey-green eyes.

“Hi Peyton!” Azzi grinned back, her breath minty fresh from all the candy canes she’d eaten in the car. 

Before Peyton knew what was happening Azzi was throwing herself into her arms, “So you’re the one who makes the gardens so pretty?”

“Yeah that’s me!” Peyton chuckled.

Azzi pulled away from her before grabbing her hand and dragging her out to the garden.

Ruby had watched the whole scene with a smile, of course Azzi would love her. When Peyton turned around laughing Ruby mouthed an ‘I love you’ to her.

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After a long dinner of ham and mashed potatoes, all the guests had spread out around the house and the garden, some playing cards, others having wine.

Azzi had been playing with her brothers in the garden, well she was trying to. Jon was only a little bit younger than her, and could almost keep up with her. Jose on the other hand? It was safe to say the almost-toddler had a long way to go in terms of fine motor skills - and also just motor skills in general.

Ruby and Peyton were sitting in the gazebo chatting when Peyton decided she wanted more cranberry juice. The second she left Azzi came barrelling over to Ruby and hopped into her lap.

“So… Peyton’s your girlfriend?” The small girl questioned curiously.

“Yeah.” Ruby answered simply.

“That’s cool” Azzi responded, unusually quiet for some reason.

Ruby just hummed in response before Azzi continued with a smile, “You’re lucky, she’s really, really pretty.”

“I’m super lucky, she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Ruby really did feel like the luckiest person in the world. She had no idea how she had bagged someone as amazing as Peyton, it was something she was grateful for each and every day.

 Azzi sat in silence with her comment for a minute, then she added, “So are you guys going to get married soon?”

Ruby bit back a laugh, she did exactly what Katie said she was.

“Well… I think it’s a bit too soon for that. But even if we wanted to, we couldn't.” She responded cautiously. If she didn’t answer right Azzi would be off telling everyone that Ruby and Peyton were actually getting married.

The last bit confused Azzi, “What do you mean? Who’s gonna stop you?”

Ruby tried to explain it in a way that made sense to her cousin’s growing empathetic brain, “It’s a rule the government made. Only boys and girls can marry each other. Gay people can’t get married.”

She nodded along, taking in what she was saying, “So you’re both gay?”

“Uh-huh, we’re both lesbians.” 

“And … ‘lebseens’ can’t get married?” 

“Yup.” Azzi’s little eyebrows furrowed at this, why would anyone stop weddings? It was just silly.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Azzi huffed, crossing her arms in outrage.

“I know right!” It was bittersweet to watch someone so little learn of the cruel and hateful ways of the world.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna make them change the rules. I promise.” She said it with such conviction Ruby imagined Azzi storming up to the White House for a split second.

“Thanks Az, you’re the best.” Ruby said, before pulling Azzi into a cuddle.

“Then, when ‘lebseens’ can get married, you can marry Peyton, and I can be a flower girl!” Azzi squealed, there was nothing she loved like a wedding.

“Sounds perfect! I can’t wait!”

They heard the soft click of the back door closing and turned to see Peyton walking towards them with two wine glasses filled with cranberry juice.

“Peyton! We’re talking about your wedding!” Azzi squealed, waving her arms wildly.

“Oh you are?” Peyton laughed, flashing Ruby a knowing smirk, before sitting down next to the two.

Ruby was too happy to feign offense when Azzi moved from her lap into Peyton’s.

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16th of OCTOBER, 2014

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd were twelve years old when gay marriage was legalized in the state of Virginia.

It had been a happy day. Oakridge was a predominantly blue town, sure there were a few flag-waving, Trump-loving republicans, but for the most part, it had been a happy day across town. Music played from speakers and chalk-rainbows littered the roads. The gas station gave out a free, small slushie with every transaction over thirty dollars. It was a happy day, but a business day nonetheless.

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Azzi often detailed her intricate wedding plans to Paige. It was one of her biggest dreams, to have a beautiful wedding, she was a firm believer that a beautiful wedding led to a beautiful life. 

She had it all figured out, down to the color of the tablecloths and the thank-you gifts. She knew she wanted the ceremony in her Aunt Karly’s garden gazebo, and the reception to be a healthy mix of indoors and outdoors. Her dad would walk her down the aisle to a live orchestral version of ‘Here comes the Bride’. She would wear a silky gown, off the shoulder, hopefully by then her hair would be grown out, her curls long and thick. 

The one thing she wasn’t clear on was if Paige would be her maid of honor. It was weird, there was no one in the world she loved like she loved Paige, she was her best friend, her world, but the thought of Paige being her maid of honor just didn’t sit right with her. That was the one thing she never mentioned when she spoke of her plans, Paige never pushed it, so she never really thought much of it - she decided that maybe it was better that way.

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The legalisation of gay marriage really did prove to her friends and family that Azzi was a ball of sunshine with a heart of gold.  When the news had come on the night before to announce the news she had sat on the couch and cried tears of joy. 

She cried for Peyton and Ruby, for the gay guys down the road, for everyone really.

She didn’t tell anyone, not even Paige, but she cried for herself too, cried because now she knew that no matter what she would be able to have a beautiful wedding, and a beautiful life. Azzi knew she wasn’t a lesbian, she had crushed on many boys in her grade, but she often felt that she could love a girl too, if the right one came along.

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Paige, on the other hand, expected herself to be rather unmoved on the topic. She had always maintained her position on marriage. She had never had the conversation with her dad, but when the topic came up at school she made her opinions known, she would never ever get married. 

The reason behind that massive, blanket statement was quite obvious to anyone who knew about Paige’s parents. Her mom had just packed up and left, ten years of marriage and a kindergartener just left in the dust. Paige had sworn to herself that she would never be in the position her mom put her dad and herself in.

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Even though she knew she would never get married she imagined the horrid situation often;

She’d be twenty-something and finding herself in some big city somewhere, maybe New York. Sat at a bar he’d sit down at the stool next to her and order two drinks, a whiskey and coke for himself and some flowery, syrupy drink for her. He would be tall, maybe six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, a mess of dark brown hair, and a mouth full of perfect white teeth. It wouldn’t matter whether or not they had hit it off, she’d be in his bed that night, letting herself be touched and touched and touched. It didn’t matter whether or not she liked him. That was how it had to be, she knew that.

In the morning she would wake up naked in a mess of white sheets and stumble into the kitchen wearing one of his oversized white button downs. She wouldn’t have had the chance the night before to take in where she was, the apartment would be massive, all glass window walls and marble countertops. And there he’d be, at the stove frying eggs and bacon, his face serious until he’d see her and the harsh lines of his face would give way to a big smile.

They would sit at the table and talk about whatever it was that you were supposed to talk about when you wake up naked in a half-stranger's apartment. It would be around eight-thirty when he would remember that he had a big, important meeting at his big, important job (that his big, important dad definitely didn’t get him). So he would leave her his credit card and a house key before running out the door as he did his tie. 

Then she’d call Azzi, who would be at some prestigious college, learning about something way too complicated for Paige. They would giggle as Paige regaled the night before and Azzi would tell her how lucky she is and that she should really, really pursue a relationship with him, and so she would. Even in this alternate universe where her dreams of building houses with her dad had and her personal integrity had seemingly vanished, she would still hang onto her best friend’s words like they were gospel.

The days would pass into weeks then months then years. She would end the lease on her crappy apartment and move into his. She would meet his family at a business dinner and laugh and charm them while wearing baby pink heels and a dress that Azzi picked out. A few weeks later, on an impromptu trip to Paris (because that was who she was now), he’d get down on one knee and present her with a massive diamond and ask a question she knew there was only one answer to.

They would get married in a beautiful ceremony, his broad shoulders hugged by an expensive Italian suit, and she’d wear a big, puffy white dress because that’s what he liked and she didn’t know what she liked anymore. When her dad walked her down the aisle Paige would cry and so would Bob, he’d give her hand a squeeze and let her go. Azzi would be her maid of honor, she’d wear a light purple dress, because, as she would have reminded her, purple was her favourite colour. 

At the reception Azzi would give a beautiful speech and both her and Paige would cry and cry and cry. When the festivities had come to a close, the best friend’s would hug and Paige would hold on for a second too long and Azzi would let her. She would know it didn’t mean anything though, because when they pulled apart Azzi would join hands with her husband’s best friend and they’d giggle their way down to their room. 

Then, a few months later, it would be Azzi’s turn to get married. Even in that nightmare world, Azzi planned her wedding exactly as it would have been in any universe. She would wear a silky white dress, off the shoulder, her curls grown out below her shoulders. Tim would walk her down the aisle to a live orchestral version of ‘Here comes the bride’ and Paige would choke back tears in a frilly pink dress as she watched. She’d wince as they kissed, try and fail to keep her composure through her maid of honor speech, then go back to her room and throw up.

She would be two handsome boys and a beautiful girl deep when she realised that she was trapped. She’d know that she had two options, either run away and leave them all behind, the house in the hamptons, the bake sales, the party-hosting, or stay and spend the rest of her life miserable, throwing herself into the lives of her kids and the upkeep of their homes. Of course, she’d pick the latter, no matter what. She would never dream of building a home only to leave it in ruins. But it would ruin her, it really would. Azzi would live next door with her husband and their lovely twin girls and their goldendoodle. They would be happy and they would fuck into their seventies and Paige would listen to a wine-drunk eighty-something Azzi ramble about how good their lives had been, how lucky they both were to have married the men of their dreams and live next to their best friend, then Paige would smile along before excusing herself to go scream into her pillow.

It would only be on her deathbed, surrounded by her loved ones, Azzi holding one hand, her husband holding the other, that she would realise the issue was her. Everyone else in the equation was happy, she was dragging herself down. There would be nothing left for her to want, she had it all, yet it just wasn’t enough for her. Just before her last breath she would squeeze her best friend’s hand and whisper a weak “I love you” into the sterile air and hope that Azzi knew it was for her, for her bestest friend - then again, by then it wouldn’t matter anymore.

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To put it simply, marriage was her worst nightmare. When she was stressed she would actually dream of situations similar to that, a whole, horrible life stretched out before her eyes. Usually she’d wake up screaming somewhere between her first kid and her third annual not-for-profit gala. 

She had always been dead-set on not marrying, but on that day, when girls could marry girls, Paige realised that maybe marriage wouldn’t be too bad.

But then she thought better, pushed that thought to the back of her mind, and doubled-down on her anti-marriage agenda.

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18th of MAY, 2015

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd were thirteen years old when they attended the world's worst sleepover.

Shelley McCarthy had invited ten girls over to her house to celebrate her fourteenth birthday. 

She called it a ‘house’ but it was more a mansion than anything else. It was three stories tall, made of sandstone brick and marble, seven beds and baths, and had what was likely the biggest pool in all of America.

Even though summer was just around the corner, there was a bitter chill hanging in the air. Despite this Shelley had insisted on swimming and everyone was too scared to disagree with her.

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They were all in Shelley’s room getting changed - all except Azzi who had texted to say that she would be there in twenty minutes.

Paige was in the corner of the room, a comfortable distance away from everyone else. It was crazy to her that a room could be so large that ten girls could fit in together and she wasn’t within a five foot radius of any of them. 

Growing up for such a large part of her life with just her dad meant she often felt awkward when she was surrounded by girls doing girly things. Azzi was different, they could do anything in front of the other and it wouldn’t change a thing, they were best friends forever and always. But Azzi wasn’t there yet, so she was staring at the ground as she shuffled awkwardly into her swimsuit.

When she turned around she stood face to face with Shelley. Paige smiled at her, unsure of what to say. She had no idea why Shelley had invited her, they only spoke because of Azzi, so she had guessed that she was just being nice and making sure she didn’t feel left out.

Shelley did not smile back at her, instead she looked at Paige like she had killed her puppy and shat in her obnoxiously sized pool.

“Like what you see?” Maya sneered from her spot by the window.

Paige didn’t understand what was happening, what was she talking about? “W-what?”

Shelley smirked before taking a step forward, so close Paige could smell her peanut-buttery breath, “She asked, do you like what you see?”

Everything had become weird so fast, as she glanced around the room she noticed all the girls laughing at her.

“Don’t stand so close to her! She’ll probably try to kiss you!” Tiera snickered from somewhere behind them.

“I-I-I don’t want to kiss her!” Paige half-yelled, desperately trying to think of a way to defend herself.

Before anyone could respond the door opened and Azzi came through smiling. Azzi was like sunshine personified, the tension in the room suddenly dispersed. Everyone returned to normal, except for Paige who was stuck in her spot, staring down at the floor trying to make sense of what was happening. 

Azzi had been at the door the whole time, listening in to the girls torture Paige. It made her sick, it really did. She had always thought that Paige might be gay, but she would never ever in a million years push the topic with her. It was possible she was completely off base with her assumption, and it was also very possible that Paige hadn’t even thought of it herself. Most of all though, Azzi knew that if she was, Paige would tell her when she was ready. 

Azzi begrudgingly pulled Shelley into a hug and gave an obligatory ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ squeal before walking to stand in front of Paige. Her eyes were trained on the ground, arms crossed across her chest protectively. 

Azzi brought her hand up and rubbed soft lines on Paige’s arm, “Everything alright?”

Paige smiled back weakly, “Yeah, glad you’re here now.”

“Me too P. Me too.” Azzi gave her arm a quick squeeze before shimmying her clothes off and declaring herself ready to swim.

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Paige made a point of not saying a single word to anyone in the pool - except for Azzi of course. It was easy enough to do considering the fact that every other girl there was ignoring her. To make the situation even worse Paige absolutely hated swimming, and it showed she was a horrid swimmer. Azzi said she had a gift for making treading water look like the hardest thing in the world.

She was glad no one was talking to her, partially because it meant she could fully focus on keeping herself afloat beside Azzi but mostly because she was pretty sure no one had anything nice to say to her anyways.

Luckily they made it all the way through the cake -three layers of vanilla with buttercream and strawberry jam between- and pizza without any incident. Paige was hoping that Azzi being there would be enough to deter any nasty comments, but she had a feeling her presence wouldn’t be enough.

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It turned out Paige was right.

They were sitting in a circle on the massive fluffy rug on Shelley’s floor when someone decided that truth or dare would be a fun idea.

A few rounds had passed before Maya made Paige her target. The second she called out her name the room filled with tension, all but Azzi watching in amusement, seemingly in on some inside joke the other two weren’t.

“Truth or Dare?” The question was charged. It was either pick dare and be forced to kiss someone who’d act like she tried to hook up with them, or she would pick truth and be asked some embarrassing, mean question. 

She went for the lesser of the two evils. “Truth I guess…” 

Everyone was wide-eyed in anticipation. Paige’s breath had suddenly grown shallow and fast, she felt like the room was closing in on her. She turned to look at Azzi hoping for some reassurance, but her best friend looked just as concerned as her. 

“Hmmm, have you ever kissed anyone?” 

It sounded like an innocent question, unlike what Paige had been waiting for so she decided to answer honestly.

“No I haven’t.” That answer would’ve been good enough, the game probably would’ve continued and she would’ve had more time to prepare before she was asked again. But instead of leaving it at that she decided to continue, “I don’t really like any of the boys at our school.”

Laughter broke out amongst the girls at that. Neither Paige nor Azzi had ever heard laughs of that sort. They were high pitched like hyenas and seemed to echo off the tall, stark white walls of the room. Azzi shuffled closer, their arms touching, and for a moment Paige felt like it would all be okay.

Finally once they calmed down, Tiera chimed in, “So you don’t like the boys. What about the girls?”

Now that was the type of question she had been expecting. “I don’t like girls, I’m not a lesbian.” She tried her hardest to sound sure of herself, to get them to back off, but her words came out wobbly and unsure. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, watching her as she spoke.

“Sure you’re not…” Shelley said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not!” She hissed back, this only made the girls laugh harder. A massive lump had formed in her throat, why did this have to happen to her?

“Shut up, you guys aren’t funny.” Azzi had come to her rescue. Of course she had. No one had her back like her best friend. She was so strong, so willing to defend Paige. 

“God chill out Azzi, what are you her girlfriend?” Maya joked.

“Ha! Paige totally likes Azzi, don’t you Paige?” Paige wasn’t even sure who was talking to her anymore. She felt like the room was closing in on her, like she was being squeezed to death, with the way things were going she thought death by wall strangulation might be the best way to go..

“What? No I don’t!” Paige had turned bright red, her face burning hot. She didn’t cry much anymore, but if she did she would be in absolute hysterics at that moment. All she heard when she spoke was another round of raucous giggles and “Yes you do!”s.

“C’mon Paige, I’ll call my dad, he can pick us up” Azzi had risen to her feet and was grabbing onto Paige’s arm trying to pull her up as well. When she finally stood up they both turned to their bags and shoved their stuff inside as quickly as they could.

The whole time a chorus of insults are being thrown at them. Although ‘them’ was really just Paige.

“Yeah, well good fuckin’ riddance anyway!”

“No one even wanted you here in the first place Paige!”

“You only got invited cause my mom feels bad for you!”

“We’re better off anyway without you trying to kiss us!”

Maybe in a normal situation she would have time to think about what they were saying, to let the hurt sink in. But her situation was anything but normal, and she was too busy being upset about all the other stuff to care about what they had to say about her.

The two girls shuffled out of the bedroom down the glossy marble hallways, past the kitchen where Azzi called out with a cordial “Thank you for having us!” before they leant against the massive mailbox at the front of the McCarthy house.

They waited in silence. Azzi thought of consoling Paige but then she thought better. The blonde was radiating something unreadable. Still, Azzi could tell that whatever thoughts were swirling around in Paige’s mind, were not ones she was interested in sharing.

Tim pulled up after five minutes of waiting, Azzi’s text hadn’t told him why they needed to be picked up, just that it was really urgent. He was going to ask them what had happened, but when he saw Paige and Azzi’s look of concern he decided to wait till the morning.

It was only a short, ten minute drive home, but as the three all sat dead silent in the car it felt more like fifty. The whole time Paige had been severely engrossed in her thoughts. When Azzi turned to look at her she thought that the older girl was staring intensely out the window, but in reality she was staring intensely at herself. When they pulled into the Fudd’s driveway Paige did something that surprised both Azzi and Tim, she mumbled a goodbye and a ‘Thank you’ before walking off down the street.

Azzi knew for sure that Paige was really troubled by whatever thoughts she was having, and she had an inkling that it had a lot to do with the things Shelley and her friends had said.

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NOTE: I hope you guys enjoyed this one, the next two might come a little quicker than normal cause I've already got the plot and stuff for them fully mapped out. Like I said before feel free to leave feedback and stuff in my inbox or in my messages.

Thanks again for reading :)

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 110: Is Donovan Desmond a Mind Reader and Most Importantly, Is Twilight Doomed?

Nah.

Twilight isn't doomed, this isn't the end. Calm down, there's no need to panic about that.

Think about it for a second, if Donovan Desmond could read minds, the SSS would have arrested Twilight the minute he said bye to Desmond on that first meeting.

A few months ago, when we saw a young Donovan Desmond appear, I did a poll/analysis about whether or not he could read minds.

Even after the most recent chapter, my opinion is still the same: No, he can't.

Some people think that maybe he can get a glimpse into people's past. Although that would be a super awesome power (and it would be one hell of a plot), I don't think it's the case, because that wouldn't really tell him much and I don't think it would have affected him to the point of forcing him to distance himself from everyone.

I do have a theory about him. I've mentioned it before but here it is again:

I think he can tell when someone is lying.

Yup. That's it. A human lie detector. It made sense a few months ago, it makes even more sense now.

It fits his personality, his fixation with liars as a child, it also fits the theme of the whole story (everyone is a liar in sxf, everyone has something to hide) and most importantly, it fits his behavior.

We know that Donovan Desmond did not initiate war with Westalis. Chapman was Prime Minister when the war started and Desmond followed after him. There's a big chance war ended while Desmond was in power. If I'm not mistaken, the war has been over for about 10 years. I have the feeling that Desmond may have launched Project Apple as a means to protect peace.

And how would someone who is obsessed with lies do that? Of course, by wanting to know how others really think at all times.

My guess is that he volunteered himself to participate in the experiments, that would also explain the scars he has on each side of his head (which he didn't have as a child). It's unlikely he was a war veteran, because politicians and people in office never go into a battlefield, so he didn't get those scars in battle.

I think he really tried to obtain mindreading abilities and he failed, but not completely.

Imagine how it would be to have that awareness of people lying ALL THE TIME. How awful it must have been for him to get this power and realize than even his family, the people he felt closest to were lying to him. I think that's the reason why he isolated from everyone. It also fits what Melinda describe in the last chapter:

Let's look at that Desmond family dinner from that perspective. He cannot read minds but he can tell his wife is lying (because she's scared of him and doesn't want to be there!). It also makes sense that Demetrius keeps his mind blank because he suspects his father knows what he's thinking, so he's train himself to not think in front of others.

His behavior shows a person who has completely lost faith in humanity. He pushed everyone away because he didn't want any more lies, and to protect himself but, by doing this, he also ended up hurting his wife to such an extent that she doesn't recognize him anymore.

Since another theme of sxf is getting closer to and relying on people while forming bonds despite their masks and lies, I can totally see this could be Donovan's story, also parallel to Twilight's by the way: You can distance yourself from others to protect yourself but it'll be a lonely life.

Yes, Donovan is safe, guarded from everyone's lies, but he's also missing out on his family's love and also on the possibility of changing the world for the best.

Twilight is going in exactly the opposite direction of him. He's becoming alive, tearing those walls down, learning to rely on others, and loving his family.

Another Important Thing to Consider...

Everyone is so worried about Donovan Desmond possible mindreading powers that no one has mentioned one very important thing: Twilight's purpose for Operation Strix!

THIS is what WISE and Twilight really want to do: to find information that would allow them to remove people who seek war from power.

It's one hell of a strategy and a tough one for sure. And I agree; scandal, especially in such a conservative society like Ostania could do a lot of damage to politicians like Desmond, parties like the National Unity Party, and institutions like the SSS.

It wouldn't surprise me if at some point in the story it actually works. However, I don't think Westalis is as clean as we think. Food for thought.

[stargazedwinchester]

Hey, for a request, how about an earlier seasons Dean x Reader scenario in which they got a little crush and flirting going on, sparks between them, but Dean's a little worried that John won't approve? 👀

Your texting moodboard and the image of the "I love you. Don't reply, this is my dad's number" kinda inspired this idea!

Forbidden ♡ Dean

Summary: John doesn't approve of you dating his son, Dean. Word Count: 1,037 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Thank you for requesting ily!! I love this bc I love JDM <3 what a dilf A little bit of Negan came out here (sorry not sorry)

When your parents passed in such a cruel, sadistic way, Dean was the one that saved you. He was the one that introduced you to hunting, to really get a feel for the life that could’ve been if you knew you could save your parents.

That gnaws at you every damn day.

At this point, you had known Dean for roughly a year, joining him on late night drives to dive bars, drinking til you can’t see. You’d stay with him in motels close to your hometown, just for the sake of company. You don’t have a lot here anymore. No close family, old school friends turned acquaintances, so you can really just rely on Dean and his younger brother, Sam.

Oh, and John.

John is a tough nut to crack. Majority of the time, you can’t tell when he’s being genuine or an absolute dick. You know Sam and Dean had a tough childhood with him not being present enough in their lives, so that fact has already somewhat helped you decide from the get-go. You had tried multiple times in the past to get on his good side: trying to get to know him, stay friendly with his sons, and most importantly, stay out of his way.

“You wanna come with?” Dean invites, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. His dad sits in the front seat of the impala, waiting for Dean to finish up. “You think he’ll let me?” You peer at John, his eyebrows scrunched, glaring at Dean. Dean looks over his shoulder, John ushering him to hurry up. “Hell what he thinks. Come with me.”

You press your lips together firmly, believing that if you join them, it’ll end badly. “Dean.” He calls, his voice stern and impatient. “We need to go.” John rolls the window up, and Dean rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” You focus your eyes on Dean, who shakes his head lightly. “He doesn’t like anyone. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll figure something out.” He flashes you a quaint smile that makes your tummy do somersaults. You place a peck on his cheek, and he blushes almost immediately. “I’ll miss you.” He says, and you smile. Dean walks down toward the car, then drives off.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and you haven’t heard much from Dean except the odd text from random numbers. One read: ‘I Love You. Don’t reply. This is my dad’s number.’ Times like these make you ill with worry. Worry that Dean’s not safe and there’s nothing you can do. You trust that he can take care of himself and you care for him deeper than you’d like to admit.

A few hours go by and you find yourself nose-deep in your book, ruminating in the same motel room as before. Dean had mentioned about being gone for a day or two, so he paid for your room on your behalf. There’s some light commotion outside. Since the voile is practically see-through, all you can see is the motel sign gleaming through the window. The rowing gets louder, as you see two male figures almost butting heads close to your room. Putting your book down, you head over to the window and see John and Dean in each other’s faces. Again.

“She’s not an issue, dad! You haven’t even given her a chance!” Dean spits. “I don’t need to give her a chance when I’ve seen enough. You need to give her up.” John retorts, and Dean pinches his brow line. “I’m not giving her up just because you say so, dad! I really like her, so get off my ass, man.” Dean attempts to turn around, but John pulls him back. “I’m not done.” He says sternly. John forces himself to be eye to eye with Dean, his cavillous demeanour ignites a fire inside you. He carries on.

“Listen, man, you don’t get to have an apple-pie life. End of the day she’ll be the first one to run when the bullet flies - and you know what? You’ll end up being the one to pick up the pieces, or the one that gets killed. So don’t you dare come back to me when you realise how much you regret being with her and you wanna come back to hunting. It ain’t gonna happen. Once you give up your life here; there’s no going back.” He threatens. John’s eyes are dark. Menacing. You feel as if you’re rewatching Dean’s teenage years reappear right in front of you. He has always mentioned that his father is a very strict person when it comes to ‘protecting’ his boys. That’s what he calls it. You open the door and meet them halfway. John turns his head and notices the scowl on your face, his aura stagnant. “John.” You state, not even bothering to make eye contact with Dean, but you can feel him staring at you. “I don’t care what you think about me, but what you’re saying to your son is far from the truth.” You say.

“You don’t know me. You clearly don’t know your own son and you have no idea about us being together. I don’t care whether you approve of me or not, but what I’m trying to say is that I love Dean. He may be your child but he’s sure as shit nothin’ like you.” You assert yourself, and John’s demeanour changes. His eyes soften, gazing upon your whole body. He looks at Dean, then huffs. Dean almost refuses to look his father in his eyes, as if he’s scared of what he could say next.

A smirk creeps up on Johns face as he’s still looking at you. His posture relaxes as he lets out a small laugh.”You’re the first person to ever stand up to me about my boys. You’ve got balls, Y/N. I like that.” John says, which takes you by surprise. This whole time you assumed John didn’t like you, turns out it’s quite the opposite. “You’re headstrong and you’ll look after my kid. You may not seek my approval but I’m giving it to you.” Jon looks over at Dean, who’s just as shocked as you are. “Thank you, sir.” You nod, and John walks back to the car. Dean sighs.

“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. I was starting to get a little worried.” He looks at you with a shine in his eyes, one that screams ‘my-father-finally-agrees-with-something-i’ve-done’.

“Thank God.” You breathe. Dean takes your hand and walks you toward the car. He opens the back passenger door, planting a kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

[cutiecusp]

Haze. Part 2.

TW. Talk of memory issues, a little PTSD (next part), fluffy smut (next part), AND A HEA! so MDNI.

"The hell do you mean? Who am i?" You ask, your gaze stubbornly holding his deep, blank stare.

You hold up a hand as Soap starts talking, your focus only on Simon.

"I am your wife, Simon." you state, barely disguising the hurt in your tone, your brow furrowed, fresh tears threatening to escape as all the man in front of you does is stare blankly.

"I'd certainly remember being married." He returns, a scowl forming over the part of the face you can see. His gaze flicks down to his hand, where the small matching tattoo you both wore was gone, a scar in its place.

"See? no ring or marking." His voice rings out loudly on your porch.

Price sees the devastation on your face, and quickly ushers everyone inside, leaving the two of you alone, knowing it could go one of two ways.

Your eyes flitter over him, cementing every memory to detail, the way his clothes are baggier, the new scar on his face, the shorn hair and the way he stares through you, like you are a total stranger.

"We've been married three years this Halloween, Simon." You say softly, your voice betraying your emotions as it wobbles.

Clearing your throat, you step into his space.

He hesitates for a moment, then steps forward, untrusting, like a dog that had been beaten too many times.

"What happened to you?" You ask, your hands reaching out for his, but his hands now remain in his pockets as he shrugged.

"Mission gone wrong." He bit off, clearly not ready to talk about it.

"Will you come in? See the rest of your team?" You ask, hoping something in your shared home will trigger an emotion, anything familiar.

"Is this my home too? is that why Price brought me here?" He asks, doubt dripping with his tone.

You straighten up, and hold out your hand.

"Our home, Si. Always been ours."

He looks down at your outstretched hand, and his eyes meet yours again, this time they hold a little something softer.

"I can trust you?" He rasps.

You hold his gaze, and you throw all the love, the promise, and the trust you can into your eyes. Simon once taught you that the eyes are the biggest giveaway when you lie, so you show him with all that you can that he can trust you.

"You can." you reply easily, although your heart is pounding through your chest, and your brain is internally screaming at Simon to remember you, you smile softly.

His hand perfectly reaches into yours. You hold your breath as the familiarity of his touch floods your body. Unable to keep the tears at bay any longer, you brush them away with the other hand.

Simon stands in front of you, a unreadable expression on his face.

"I may not remember you, yet." He pauses, thinking about his next words carefully.

"But something about you IS familiar. You feel like the first dip in the pool at summer, tea on a frosty morning... Something about you feels like home."

Your breath comes out like a shudder, as he pulls you by the hand into him, his eyes taking you in from your puffy face, to the mismatched socks on your feet.

"If you are my wife, im the luckiest bastard on the planet."

....................................................................................................................

the final part, part three will be here tomorrow.

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @lostintransist @skeletonsucker

[witchygagirlwrites]

Jay Halstead x Reader

He keeps crawling into your bed and taking a piece of your heart every time.

Smut with a little plot??

You followed Kevin through rollup and could feel Jay’s eyes on you as if they left a physical trail behind. He was pissed, you knew he was. Every time you pulled a stunt like you just did it pissed him off. Even when Voight let it go because you got it done, you got the case closed and no one was killed he wouldn’t let it go.

You had a gun pointed to your head “Stand back bitch” you grinned “That’s detective bitch and let the kid go then maybe I’ll step back” you were antagonizing the guy at this point but you needed his eyes on you along with that gun being pointed at you instead of the fifteen year old he’d grabbed. He tossed the kid to the side and raised the gun higher “I’m going to prison anyways, might as well kill a lady cop” you flinched when a shot was fired but blood splattered across the ground in front of you.

“You’re welcome” Jay’s voice came across the com. He’d taken the shot in the half a second before the guy managed to pull the trigger, just like you knew he’d be able to. You weren’t the only member of the unit to have ever placed your life in Jay’s hands when it came to his sniper capabilities. Hell Voight himself had done it.

You made it up to the bullpen, unbuttoning the collar of your gear as you walked and felt Jay’s hand barely brush against yours as he walked past you,a little too close. “I’ll see you later” it was all but a whisper but he knew you heard him. The promise in his words made you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

This thing had started a while back between the two of you, you were friends and worked in the same unit so you understood the high stress of each other’s jobs and why neither of you had the energy to pursue dating. The solution was to use each other as a means to blow off steam when needed. How did it even start? Hell at this point you couldn’t quite remember. The rules were simple, no overlap into your job and no catching feelings.

Easier said than done when you had Jay Halstead’s hands and mouth all over you multiple times a week most of the time. You’d never meant for it to happen but every single time he came crawling into your bed you fell a little more. Everyone was finishing up their reports to head home. You cut your eyes at Jay about the time he glanced up at you and winked before turning back to his paperwork. Yeah, you were fucked.

You had your hand on your truck door when you felt that familiar arm slip around your waist followed by Jay’s warm breath hitting your neck “If we weren’t in public right now I’d have my head buried between your legs. Do you have any idea how bad you pissed me off?” you glanced over your shoulder at him, letting a smirk slip onto your face “I got the kid, you had my back. No big deal”

You saw a flash of anger in those sea blue  eyes, “No big deal? I’ll follow you to your place. I may just cuff your ass to the bed so you can’t push my head away after I make you cum” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth at his words and felt your panties soak when you saw the way his eyes tracked the movement “Yeah, I bet you’d love that” you shook your head “See you at my place” then shrugged his hand off and opened your truck door. He took a step back, that damn smirk of his in place.

____________________

You parked and the moment your truck was off and you were out of it you spotted Jay’s truck pulling up behind yours. You didn’t bother a look back and just walked up to your steps. You barely got the door open before he was slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. You smiled despite yourself when you felt his teeth teasing at the sensitive flesh of your neck “Can we make it inside Halstead?” you asked and he barely made a sound in response, guiding you over the threshold. You could feel him kissing and sucking the skin at the bend of your neck but he’d never left a mark before so that wasn’t a worry. A light moan escaped you when he caught a sensitive spot and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

You reached out to lock the door but his hand came out to cover yours. He broke away from your skin and spun you around to face him, you tried and failed to not smile at him “You’re kinda hot when you’re mad” he shook his head. “Come here” he leaned down just far enough to get his hands under your thighs. You gasped lightly when he scooped you up into his arms, leaving you no choice but to wrap your legs around his waist. “Jay?” he grinned “Since I’m kinda hot, I’m taking you to bed. Now” you shrugged “I’m not complaining”

He knew the way through your apartment by now just as well as he knew his own. He kicked open your bedroom door and had you on the bed, stripping both of you free of clothes within minutes. 

Once you were down to your panties Jay leaned back and let his eyes roam across you “What?” you asked and he shook his head with a grin “You’re so beautiful all spread out like this for me” you felt your face warm “Christ Jay.Not so tough now, huh? What happened to being pissed?” He raised an eyebrow “Oh  I’m still pissed” and caught your lips in a rough kiss as his hands slipped under your panties, tugging them off your legs.

You felt one of his thick fingers slip through your folds before plunging into you.When you moaned into his mouth he grinned and added a second digit, curling them up until he hit that spot inside of you that made your back arch off the bed. He broke free from your lips and watched your face “Come on baby, let me see you fall apart. Be a good girl and spread your legs just a little further”

Your legs fell apart and he lowered his lips to your breasts “You feel so good, squeezing my fingers like that..you wanna cum?” you nodded, practically panting from how close you were to an orgasm. He grinned “Admit what you did was fucking stupid” you shook your head, stubborness winning out over just how bad you wanted him to pleasure you. You hadn’t been in the wrong, dammit.

He pulled his fingers out of you with a shrug “Ok then” you whined, fully whined at the loss of contact “You fucking asshole! I was right there!” he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips “Admit I’m right” you glared at him “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself” and slid a hand down towards your pussy but before you could touch it he was grabbing both of your wrists in one of his, pinning them over your head “No ma’am”

You glared up at him from your position under him. You could feel just how hard he was through his boxers and that mixed with the denied orgasm had you pissed “Jay, I swear on everything just please fuck me already!” He smiled “Don’t worry i’ll take of you” he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips and released your hands, pressing them into the mattress with his own as he laced your fingers together, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he rutted his hips down against yours.

You whimpered in his mouth, the contact not what you needed but better than nothing. He bit your bottom lip gently then pulled back from the kiss to reach down and slip his boxers off “Grab a condom” 

You turned enough to slip a hand in your nightstand and felt him curl his palm against your ass as you did so. You pushed back into his touch and he chuckled lightly. 

____________________

Once he had the condom on he caught your chin to press another kiss to your lips “Turn over baby” he helped you move over onto your stomach and slipped a pillow under you before pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. You felt the head of his cock teasing at your opening before he pushed into you, bottoming out with one hard thrust. A loud moan of his name escaped you as your head fell to the bed. 

“You good?” he asked and you nodded “So damn good” he laughed “Good” you felt one of his hands on your hips, gripping tightly as the other pushed your shoulders down further into the mattress. 

Your hands balled into the comforter, every snap of his hip pulling screams of his name from you. It felt so damn good but  was borderline too much, “Can’t you handle it, baby?” he asked through gritted teeth.  “I can-fuck, I can handle it” you moaned. You were so damn close. He folded his body over yours, one hand supporting his weight on the mattress while the other slipped under you to find your clit, rubbing tight circles. You felt your orgasm slam into you as you clenched down on him, your entire body shaking slightly. He buried himself into you with a final thrust and came with a low moan of your name.

He stayed like that for a little while, hands rubbing across your body and lips following them. Working to soothe the muscles. “You ok?” he asked and you nodded “I’m good” he kissed your shoulder then gently pulled out, apologizing when you hissed between your teeth from the action. He helped you turn on your side then kissed you “I’m gonna toss the condom and get cleaned up. You need a water?” you nodded and he smiled “I’ll be right back”

________________

Once Jay came back you took the offered water and thanked him with a smile. He offered you his shirt from the floor after he slipped his boxers on and you slipped it over your head in favor of not being completely bare. He sat down on the bed next to you, fingers trailing over your thigh “You seriously pissed me off. What if he moved just a little faster? What if I missed?” you cut your eyes at him and shrugged “He didn’t and you didn’t. I trust you Jay, hell the entire unit trusts you. We could have swat on scene and Voight will look at the man in charge, literally roll his eyes then say get Halstead on the roof. I knew I was safe with you”

He shook his head “I told you over the com to back off” you grinned “I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked” he glared at you “I’m well aware of that sweetheart”  you laughed “I can lie and say it won’t happen again but it will. You’ve known me for how long?” he laughed “As long as I’m there I’ll do my best to get you home” and leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

You looked down at the shirt you were wearing “You need this” he nodded “Unless I can stay here tonight?” you raised an eyebrow “Jay you don’t do overnights” he shrugged “It’s not the same thing with you” “What about work? They’ll notice you wearing the same shirt two days in a row” he shrugged “I’ll leave early enough to swing by my place, c’mon. It’s late and I’m tired” you shook your head “Fine”

He grinned and slipped under the sheet next to you. He turned to face you “Are you coming out on the water with everyone this weekend?” you nodded “Yeah, Kim and Hailey already asked me to go shopping with them for new swimsuits” he raised an eyebrow “Do I get some photos from the shopping trip?” you shook your head “That’s not very friend material there Jay” and turned with your back to him.

He slipped an arm around your waist and pulled you back against his chest before saying “If a friend can’t tell you what bathing suit makes them hard, what good is that friend?” you shook your head, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating “Go to sleep Jay” he pressed a kiss to your neck “Goodnight” “Night Jay”

You hated the fact that you were falling for Jay. Why did you think you could ever manage to have sex with him on a regular basis, have his hands and lips all over you, hear him call you baby and sweetheart and not fall? 

You’d had casual sex before,a random hookup here or there. Maybe that’s why you thought you could sleep with one of your closest friends and not fall for him? Not catch yourself looking towards him in the field, not catch yourself smiling slightly when he had your back despite arguing with you over it. You knew it didn’t mean to him what it meant to you. Jay was such a good man but to him? It was just blowing off steam with a friend. 

When the weekend rolled around you found yourself almost backing out, almost. Kim and Hailey would kill you if you didn’t show up.

__________________

You stepped out your truck at the docks and heard a loud whistle but knew it was Kim from the tone. You turned and saw her standing next to her car with a grin “Looking good!” you did a little spin, despite the fact that you were just wearing sandals and cut off shorts over your swimsuit. She nodded towards the water “Let’s get a move on, the guys are already on the boat”

You grabbed her arm and the two of you headed that way. You locked eyes with Jay as you made it to the boat and his eyes trailed down your body before he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth and looked away. Adam moved to help Kim onto the boat and you started to take Kevin’s hand but to your surprise a different hand was offered to you. You smiled when you locked eyes with Connor, your only ex you were still friends with “Will didn’t say he was bringing the riffraff with him”

He grinned “Well yeah, he wanted to make sure you actually came” you laughed and stepped over onto the boat, pulling him into a hug. “Good to see you Con” he nodded as he pulled back, his hand on your side “Especially since it doesn’t involve you being in med”

You cut your eyes up and saw Jay staring at you. What was going on with him? He slipped his shirt off and tossed it into the growing pile the men had started before grabbing a beer from Adam and going to the other side of the boat. All of you were leaving the dock.

___________________

You laughed at something Adam said as Kevin and Antonio dove off into the water. This was actually the most fun you’d had in a while. “Not swimming?” Connor asked, stepping up next to you and you shook your head “Naw, I’m not feeling up to that” he laughed “Still not too big a fan of open water swimming unless it's a necessity?” you nodded “Yup”

He laughed and shook his head “Can’t blame ya” Kevin had climbed back up on the lower level of the boat and whistled up to you “Yo partner! Grab me a beer!” “Two please!” Antonio hollered and you nodded “I got ya” and patted Connor “I gotta get my fellas some drinks” he nodded.

You headed for the cooler at the far end of the boat and felt someone behind you when you leaned over into it even before you heard Jay’s voice “You and Connor sure have been talking a lot” 

You grabbed the two beers and straightened up before facing him, the sun was beating down on him and he was covered in a fine sheet of sweat which made it a little hard to be mad at him when he looked so damn delicious. “He’s my friend Jay, same as you” he raised an eyebrow “Oh he’s nothing like me”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked and he smirked before stepping closer “He never fucked you like I do” you rolled your eyes and bit back the response you wanted to give which was “Maybe but he actually deemed me worthy of dating” and instead you “How do you know how he fucked me?” and turned and walked away when his eyebrows were still scrunched together like they got when he was good and pissed off, trying and failing to keep the proud smirk off your face.

_______________________

You were sitting on a lounge chair with Kim when you spotted Jay talking to a nurse from med, no he was flirting. Right in view of you. Fucking asshole. Kim called your name and you blinked then looked at her “Yeah?” she laughed “I was asking have you thought about that task force position? They’re really hungry after you”

You shrugged “I don’t know, I would be gone for a month and half. I wouldn’t know my team plus the feds?” Antonio shrugged “It’s only six weeks. Plus you could wrack up some favors for us in that time” you shook your head “Thanks Dawson, spin it to me that I need to do it to help everyone” and that caused Kim, Adam and Kevin to laugh. You started in major crimes before intelligence and now had a task force wanting you on it. They’d approached Voight about loaning you out but he’d told them “I don’t loan my people without them being ok with it” so now it was up to you.

You cut your eyes back up and saw the nurse with Jay’s phone, typing in it. She was adding her number. You were falling for him and he was getting someone else’s number in front of you. “Maybe I’ll do it. I’ll schedule a meeting with them and Voight monday” you said and Antonio patted your leg “Attagirl! You can handle it” Kim grinned “I’ll take care of your place while you’re gone”

_____________________

When you got back to the dock Antonio helped you off the boat and you practically ran to your truck. You didn’t want the risk of seeing Jay or the damn nurse. The moment you were in your truck and pulling out you spotted Jay and his eyes followed you. You tried not to let your heart hurt, you’d known what it was when you two started but did he have to get her number in front of you?

____________________ 

You were showered and in just a big tshirt and panties when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t have to look to know who it was. You snatched open the door to find Jay standing on your doorstep. His eyes widened “Sweetheart, it’s still early enough people can see you” you shrugged “Oh well. Where’s your nurse?”

He chuckled lightly, “What’s wrong?” you shook your head “Nothing” he grinned “Can I come in?” you stepped back and waved a hand “By all means Halstead” he walked in and closed the door behind himself “Why did you run off?” you shrugged, crossing your arms “You looked busy”

He shrugged “Figured you may be leaving with Rhodes” “Fuck you Halstead” a smirk slipped onto his face “Is that what’s wrong? You need a fuck?” you rolled your eyes “Why? The nurse wouldn’t give it up so you went to the easy option?” He took a step towards you and you cursed when your back hit the door. He placed a hand on either side of your head “Don’t talk about yourself like that”

“Fucking bite me” you growled and he grinned “If you want” before you knew what was happening the fucker had one hand around your throat, loosely but firm enough to hold you in place and was leaning down to sink his teeth into the soft skin of your neck. You moaned low and your hand went to his wrist, nails digging in but not trying to move it. He pulled back from your neck and smiled “Look how pretty you are with my hand wrapped around your neck” he squeezed gently and you felt your eyes roll back in your head.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before whispering in your ear “How about I fuck you hard enough you forget how Connor ever fucked you?” you cut your eyes up at him “What about your nurse?” he grinned “She can wait” you shook your head “Fuck it” and pulled him into a kiss.

You were half asleep with Jay’s arms wrapped tightly around you. He was fast asleep behind you with his face buried in the bend of your neck, you were startled by his phone chiming. You reached for it with intentions to wake him up and hand it to him before you saw the name Erika as an incoming text and read that it say Call me Jay. Would love to get together again soon

Again? AGAIN? Had he left her and come fucked you? You felt your stomach roll and it took everything in you to not wake him up and kick him out then and there. You felt nauseous. You grabbed your phone and checked the time to see it was still early enough to send Voight a text I’m taking the task force position for 6 weeks you laid your phone down and then scooted your way out of Jay’s arms. Once you were sure he wouldn’t wake up you grabbed your shirt off the floor and slipped it on. You needed a hot shower and then you’d sleep on the couch and possibly burn the sheets you’d just fucked him on come tommorow.

 Monday morning, the lead agent on the task force was in Voight’s office when you got into work. You cut your eyes at Kevin who gave you a nod. You walked into Voight’s office as she stood up and offered her hand “Detective. I was happy to get your sergeant’s call” you smiled “I’m agreeing to the six week but then I’m coming home to my unit, understand” she nodded “Of course”

You sat down across from Voight and he nodded “Don’t worry sweetheart intelligence is your home. It’ll be waiting” so you started talking to Agent Miller about what the task force would entail, your living and travel expenses.

“So you need me to leave tomorrow? That’s short notice?” you asked and Voight shrugged “We kind of waited until last minute to get back to them” you glanced out at the bullpen where everyone kept looking at the office door. “Ok, I’ll have to make some arrangements today but I can swing it” 

Agent Miller looked at Voight “She seems like she’s going to be as good as you say” he shook his head “She’s better”

You were walking out of your place with your duffle bag when you heard a truck door slam and looked up to see Jay storming up the sidewalk “You’re fucking leaving?” “It’s six weeks” you replied and he scoffed “In D.C! You don’t know those assholes! How do you know they’ll have your back! What if something happens?” 

You shrugged “Then I guess Voight is gonna have a slot to fill” his face fell at your words “And what about me?”  “I’m just your friend Jay, you’ve got plenty of those” you told him, sighing in relief when the taxi pulled up. He followed you down the steps “We’re not just friends you know that” 

You tossed your bag in the trunk of the taxi then turned to look at him “Yeah? Tell Erika that. I’ll see ya in six weeks. Then I’ll have an option to come home to intelligence or join the international team” you pushed past him and climbed in the taxi, telling the driver you needed the airport.

______________________

“Tell Erika that?” Jay repeated your words. What the hell did you mean by that? He hadn’t seen her since the day on the water. Hell he’d only gotten her number because he was being a jealous asshole when he saw you with Connor most of the day. He remembered when you were with Connor, everyone thought that was it, that you were gonna marry him. 

When he saw you in that damn swimsuit, the way it hugged your curves…then to see Connor touching you to help you on the boat and you hugging him? He’d wanted to knock him off the damn boat. That was why he’d come to your place that day, to see if Connor was there. What he would’ve done, well he didn’t want to think about because taking you out of the equation he liked Connor.

He pulled his phone out and clicked through his texts and saw an unopened one from Erika that read  Call me Jay. Would love to get together again soon Again? He hadn’t gotten together with her past being on the water. He checked the time and cursed under his breath. That was after he fell asleep, meaning you were probably either awake or woke up by the text. If you saw the word again after specifically asking about her….FUCK

He clicked your name and texted you Sweetheart I saw the text from her, It is NOT what you think it is. Please call me when you land

What was he supposed to do if you didn’t believe him or if something happened to you or hell if you chose the international team? He never should’ve let this go this far. The moment he started feeling something for you he should’ve manned up but he hadn’t wanted to lose you. Joke was on him, he lost you anyways.

You checked your phone to see what Jay had texted today Can you just let me know you’re ok? He knew you were ok. You talked to Hailey or Kim every day. He was just trying to get you to talk to him. “Boyfriend?” Charity asked with a raised eyebrow from where she was breaking down her long gun across from you. You shook your head “Friend from back in Chicago” 

She nodded “They the one that’s been blowing you up?” you nodded “Pissed me off pretty good before I left, trying to make sure I come back and not just to pack my shit up” she laughed loudly, her bright green eyes sparkling “Have you made a decision yet?” you nodded “I have really enjoyed working with the task force and anytime I’m needed in a temp position I’d hop back in but Chicago is home”

She grinned “I get it. You miss your unit” you nodded “That too” she cut her eyes at your phone “What ya gonna do about the friend?” you rolled your eyes “I have no clue” and she laughed “You poor thing”

“Coming home tomorrow” “Is she staying?” “I don’t know yet” that was the conversation Jay picked up between Antonio and Hailey but it was enough to figure out you were finally coming home. He’d talked to Erika, gotten slapped for using her as a jealousy plot and then got forgiven when he explained that he truly had feelings for you. 

Hopefully you’d forgive him with just a slap. Hell he’d let you get by with a lot more than a slap if it meant you forgiving him. 

He was quiet, trying to hear anything more. When he didn’t he figured he’d just go to your place after work. If you were there he’d try to talk to you and if not, he’d wait.

When the taxi pulled up in front of your place you cursed under your breath when you saw Jay was sitting on your steps. The driver looked at him then back at you “Everything ok? Should I call the cops?”

You laughed lightly “We both are the cops sir, it’s fine. He’s a friend” you paired the fare and grabbed your bag then climbed out. Jay stayed leaning against the rail but his eyes tracked your every movement “Hey” he greeted and you nodded “Hey” you walked past him, shifting your bag to your left hand to offer him your right. He gripped it with his larger hand and pulled himself to his feet. He looked down at you for a moment before you turned to unlock the door. 

__________________________

You walked in and cut your eyes back at him before heading to the laundry room to drop your duffle to the floor. You walked back into the living room to find Jay standing next to the couch. “Gonna sit or stand there?” you asked, sitting down on the couch. 

He sat down next to you, watching as you took your boots off and tossed your jacket too. Once you were comfortable he said “I missed you” you laughed lightly “Erika not good company? Or you already got a new one?” he sighed “I wasn’t with her before I came here that night. I know your line of thinking”

You cut your eyes up at him “Then why did she text that?” he shrugged “She said she hadn’t thought to text before then” you nodded “So you talked to her” “To explain that I never should’ve asked for her number and apologize for doing it” “Why?” you asked and he shrugged “Why what?” “Why shouldn’t you have gotten her number?” you asked and he turned his head to be fully facing you “I came here that night to see if Connor was with you”

“Why?” you asked and he smiled “Because I would’ve probably taught him not to touch things that aren’t his” you laughed “Oh so I’m just your friend but you can claim me?” his head fell back on the couch “Dear lord woman, I am trying here! Go ask Erika if you don’t believe me. I told her I was being a jealous asshole because you were talking to Connor and I just wanted you to want me like you once wanted him!”

“What?” you asked,honestly in shock and he nodded “I want you, fully” you swallowed hard “Really?” and he nodded “More than anything” you rolled your bottom lip then turned to slip your leg over his waist, effectively straddling his lap. He grinned once you were settled and put his hands on your hips. “Jay?” you called his name quietly and he nodded “Yeah?” “How long were you sitting there?” he flinched “A few hours”

“Guess you should get something in return then huh?” you asked before pulling him towards you, catching his lips in a kiss that started gentle but when you rolled your hips down against his he nipped at your bottom lip causing you to gasp lightly and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, rolling it against yours. 

Your hands went to his shoulders, gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss then broke from your lips to kiss across your jaw then down to your neck “Jay?” you called his name and he cut his eyes up at you “Yeah baby?” you smiled “I’m yours?” he nodded “And I’m yours baby” you looked over your shoulder towards your bedroom before asking “Stay with me tonight?” a broad grin split his face “That’s the first time you’ve asked me to stay” you pulled him into a kiss before saying “First time you’re my boyfriend instead of friend. Now take me to bed Halstead” 

He grinned against your lips and stood, causing you to have to wrap your legs around his waist “Anything you want baby”

[thanosscross]

hiii I want to request twin! jiyong/bigbro!jiyong if that's okay loll. I always get the feeling that jiyong have a very soft spot for a younger sibling especially for a little sister. thank you!!

Oh he 100% would be, especially if you were in the K-pop world with him!!

Double, Double, Combo - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader + Twin! Kwon Ji Yong 1/?

Summary: The Kwon twins were powerful together, you and your slightly older twin brother Ji-Yong were like two halves of a whole, and everybody knew it. So what happens whenever your two K-pop groups combine tours together? Especially whenever your brother calls you out for a very noticeable crush.

Warnings: Mentions of a slight panic attack, reader getting injured, other than that, none lovelies <333

Translations:

Jagiya: Honey, Sweetie, Love, Darling (For this fic, we're going with darling)

Umma: Mother/Mom

Oppa: Older brother

Yeo-Dongsaeng: Younger sister

If I got any translations wrong please let me know!! As I am very rusty with speaking Korean, but I am learning! <33

The Kwon twins were something big that hit the K-pop industry in the early 2000s, Ji-Yong and Y/n taking over the industry by storm as soon as they were able to, you both had your own groups, your twin brother having his group, BigBang, while you had yours. Both groups being made up of four members, almost identical to each other, the only difference? Even down to both of you catering more towards females.

Ever since birth, You and Ji-Yong were close, always side by side, doing everything together, your brother even taking the initiative to help you with anything you needed for your career or group. You walked into the agency building, excitedly making your way towards your brother's dorm, excited to tell him your big news, busting into the room, you smiled at all four boys. "Did YG call you yet?" You smiled, making your way over to plop on the couch, leaning against your brother gently "No? Why? What'd we do?" Your brother asked nervously, relaxing whenever he saw your excited demeanor "Well...As of today! BigBang is officially combining their tour with ours!" You squealed excitedly "They figured if there was eight of us contributing to the concert, it'd be amazing! A-And YG said something could be added for our five year since debut!" You gasped, leaning forward in his face, watching as he smiled and giggled at your reaction "That's amazing!! We can actually hang out again!" Ji-Yong cheered excitedly, hugging you tightly as he looked towards the boys.

The first few nights of rehearsal were easy, everybody was excited to get back into working and preforming, but as the start date got closer, everybody was getting stressed out. As you stood on stage trying to run through your choreography, you heard your brother in the microphone again "No, Y/n, Aein-" He was cut off by your choreographer, she was nice, for the most part, but that's why you loved her, she wouldn't be shy about letting you know if something was wrong. "Y/n. How many more times do we have to stop you before you get it right? It's midnight, we've been on the same section of the same song for the last hour, what the hell is going on?" She snapped, normally, you could handle her harshness, usually it fuels you even more to make your shows perfect, but between your exhaustion, the combined stress of everybody that was working, and your growing frustration on this one move, you couldn't handle it tonight. As she continued to lecture you, you dropped down to a kneel, pinching the bridge of your nose in your hand as you tried your best not to cry. "Okay just stop! I-I can't do this! I can't! I fucking quit!" You shouted, storming off of the stage, trying to hold back your sobs until after you got the microphoned that was taped to your cheek, off.

Sitting in your dressing room, you tried your best to fix your make-up, you hated having meltdowns like that, especially in front of people, but sometimes your anxiety would just build and build until eventually, you'd meltdown, and everything would be okay again. You had always hated it about yourself, especially whenever people would refer to you as 'a ticking time bomb' like it was just a matter of time before you'd blow up. "Yeo-Dongsaeng" Ji-Yong whispered, opening the door to your dressing room slowly, his heart breaking whenever he saw you desperately trying to fix the ruined makeup that was smeared down your cheeks. "I-I..." You couldn't speak, not even knowing what you'd say if you could, your twin just walked over with a soft smile, pulling a chair up next to you. "You're okay, I know, honey" He whispered softly, grabbing one of your makeup wipes to start clearing off your face. "Seung Hyun is worried..you know, if you want to hide a relationship, he needs to stop worrying so much" Ji-Yong muttered quietly as he gently wiped the make-up off of your face, not missing the soft smile that made it's way onto your face. "Seung Hyun and I are not dating, we're just..really good best friends" You replied shyly, getting a bitch face from your brother "Okay, we've been around each other for almost 24 years now? So do you want to lie to yourself and me again?" He teasingly asked, chuckling softly as you nudged his shoulder gently, a blush covering your cheeks as he grabbed your make-up bag "What're you doing?" You asked, watching as he dug through it before finding the make-up you'd need "Helping my yeo-dongsaeng, because she needs her oppa" He smiled softly, you just sighed shaking your head "By a minute, Ji-Yong, sixty seconds" You reminded, he just laughed loudly shaking his head "Still older!" He protested, before grabbing your face gently as he helped with your eye make-up "There, perfect, Oppa Ji-Yong to the rescue!" He smiled, playfully standing up to do a spin "Thank you..Ji..for everything" You whispered, standing up to hug him tightly, you appreciated him more than words could describe. "Anyways! Seung Hyun?" He teased, changing the subject "Do you like him back?" He asked, watching as you covered your face quickly to hide your blush "No! I don't!" You protested, groaning as he just squealed pointing at your blush "You like him back! Yesss! You like Seung Hyun!~" He cheered, rushing down the hallway "Ji! Stop! Please don't!" You whined, chasing after him, never realizing that Ji-Yong's plan of getting you back out to rehearsals and in a better mood had worked.

You'd finish rehearsals without anymore hiccups, quickly being rushed off to the airport for the eight of you to fly to America for your US shows. Whenever you would do your final rehearsal before your show, the communication would be horrible, leading to your rehearsal with the girls to be right as they were testing the boys' stage lift. As you were ending your last song, you went to make your way to your mark, stepping into the giant 6-foot drop, where the stage lift was lowered, the only thing catching you from completely falling was your torso slamming against the stage, and your foot catching the metal framing underneath the stage. As the boys watched from their spots, they were quick to move, Ji-Yong making it to you before anybody else, even staff. As he helped you out and back on your feet, you winced, holding onto his arms tightly "No, No don't let go please" You begged, taking your weight off of your foot, holding onto his arm with one hand while holding your ribs with the other. Ji-Yong just wrapped his arms around you, glancing around panicked for the medic they had traveling with them for smaller things, while Ji-Yong always took care of you, and was slightly taller than you, he still couldn't carry you confidentially, not without you freaking out and thrashing around in his arm afraid to fall. "Hyung? Can you?" Ji-Yong asked nervously as he turned to Seung Hyun who stood next you both "Yea, yea, I'll get her backstage with the medic, Ji, I got this" He assured, going to wrap your arm around his shoulders, stopping whenever you whimpered in pain "Ok, Ok, we don't have to do that" He reassured, carefully moving his arms around you to pick you up, carrying you effortlessly backstage, your brother going to find whoever the hell lowered the lift while your rehearsals were running.

Sitting in your dressing room, you tried your best to stop crying, holding your shirt up gently so Seung Hyun could hold the ice pack to your side while you balanced one on your foot "Y/n, Jagiya, please take a breath" He pleaded, resting a hand on your cheek gently as he wiped the tears that fell "I-I feel so terrible!" You cried, hugging him tightly as he rubbed your back "I know, but Ji is going to explain, and doctors said you'll be better than ever for next show" Seung Hyun explained, trying to boost your spirits the slightest "Ji is coming back during our singles, and BigBang's show break, so he's going to come see you" He offered, you seemed to calm down slightly at that, knowing your brother would be brutally honest about how your absence affected the show. Seung Hyun would hold you close as you sniffled softly "Thank you..Seung Hyun, you're always so kind to me" You whispered, hugging him tighter before pulling away, trying your best to hide your blush as you heard the muffled voice from his earpiece calling him to the stage.

"I'll see you later okay? Ji and the others will come check on you whenever they can" He smiled, kissing the top of your head before rushing to stage, leaving you alone for awhile.

You were just about to fall asleep finally, whenever your door burst open, your brother having an evil smirk "So! We got an idea, and YG said we have to have your permission too, but we can do your set for you? If you want?" he offered, laughing loudly at your confused expression "W-Why would you do that?" You asked, sitting up to try and wake yourself up a little more "Well, Seung Hyun said something about you being really upset about working so hard just for the fans at this show not to see, so?..Can we? We look alike, and practically sound alike other than your high notes and my low notes" Ji-Yong pleaded, rushing over to sit next to you on the sofa, you just giggled looking at your brother "If you really want to, and you and the promise to take it seriously" You sighed, watching him jump up excitedly, cheering for a moment before sitting back down next to you. "How are you feeling, Honey?" Ji-Yong asked softly, checking your ankle and ribs, wincing whenever he saw the nasty bruise that was forming right at the bottom of your ribcage. "It hurts to breathe, or move, so laying down is hard" You sighed, trying to reposition yourself as you winced "Well hold on, I'll help" He laughed shaking his head "Umma gave you some of her beauty, none of her brains" he teased as he helped you lay down on the dressing room couch, you just swatted at his arm, glaring at him. "Careful or I'll call Umma and tell her you're being mean to her baby who's hurt- That you! Watched get hurt!" You giggled, watching as he whined softly "Don't be a tattletale, Y/n" He huffed, crossing his arms like he was a child again "Fine! Fine!" You laughed loudly, moving your head to rest it against his legs "Don't worry, you'll be back on stage before you know it, getting to dance with Seung Hyun again!" He teased playfully, giggling as your cheeks lit up again with a bright blush "Shut up!" You giggled, turning your head to look at him "Help me to stage? so I can at least watch you guys do my set" You asked softly, watching as he sighed smiling helping you to your feet "Okay, you know we're almost the same size, so this is going to be hard, okay?" He laughed, holding onto you tightly as you took a shaky step forward, you nodded giggling as your twin tried his very best to get you to stage, coming out successful as he helped you sit down off to the side, near V.I.P, per your request, if you couldn't perform for your fans, you could at least sit with them, while watching your brother, your crush, and their friends perform your setlist of songs.

--

You like? I plan on part two picking up right where part one left off, just because the boys doing girl group performances are always one of my favorites! <33 Lmk what you think lovelies! As always please let me know what you think, and I'm excited to hear from you! lovelies!! <333

--

Taglist!!

@onyxmango

@ag02212023

@acehasmyheart

@mitchko11

@learninglinesintherainn

@seunghyunwifey

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@lilou-0401

@maenoakasuna

@ericityyy

@alexandralibbre

@jajabro

@heartsforseo

@frangiipanii

@seunghyunwifey

@sturnioloslut-b

@isssaaaa2111

@goodnight-n-go-home

@skzdreamz

@enhasrii

@sunhyeswife

@ilovethe141

@saraaisfree

[sai-int]

HOW TO DISAPPEAR | Sour - 2

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mlist . series mlist . ao3

"How’ve you been?"

His words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain. You don’t respond—your gaze locked on your glass, the drink familiar in its color and weight. You take a sip, the sweet burn sharper than you remember, filling a bitter void you hadn’t noticed until now.

His hand covers yours at the center of the table, breaking your trance. The warmth is painfully familiar, a sting that cuts deeper than you’d like to admit. When your gaze lifts, John’s eyes are already on you, steady and unflinching, as though he hasn’t looked away since he sat down.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, time seems to slow. You glance at his hand—the same one that used to hold you, steadying you through the chaos of your lives, moments that were long behind you.

His face is more weathered now, something in his eyes harder, colder. You can see the years in him just as clearly as you feel them in yourself. Time hasn't been kind to either of you, but it’s the space it’s created between you that cuts the deepest.

You pull your hand away, instinctively trying to reclaim some distance. You steel yourself, but your voice comes out hoarse. "What are you doing here, John?"

He doesn’t flinch. Never does. It's almost unnerving how little he's changed. He leans back in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. "Came to check in," he says casually, downing his whiskey like it’s nothing, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles up, bitter and sharp. "You're four years too late for a 'check-in,' John."

His jaw tightens, something flickering behind his eyes, but he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a drag from his cigar, the smoke curling lazily in the dim bar light, and exhales slowly. "Things got... complicated," he mutters, his voice rough, like he’s still unsure how to say it.

You want to argue, to throw everything you’ve been holding back for years right at him, but something keeps you quiet. You take a generous gulp of your drink before setting it down with a soft clink. The tension between you thickens, oppressive.

"You left me, John," you say, voice low but sharp, "You walked away. And now you think you can just walk back in?"

His gaze softens, memories of that day flooding back unbidden. The moment he stepped into your hospital room, met your warm eyes and soft smile—only to be the one to shatter it all. He forced himself to watch as the light in your eyes dimmed, the warmth replaced with pain. He owed you that much, at least. For a fleeting moment, regret flickers across his face before vanishing beneath the stoic resolve he’s mastered for so long.

"I didn’t know how to stay and protect you," he admits, the words rougher than you expected, like they’ve been sitting in his chest for a while. His fingers twitch around his glass, betraying his calm façade, but it’s the slight tightening of his jaw that betrays his true emotions. You catch his moment of vulnerability, and you realize how much you’ve missed studying those little, subtle signs. "And I sure as hell don't know how to fix this."

The weight of his words lingers in the air. You didn’t expect him to say that, but it doesn’t change anything. Not really, after all this time.

Your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink. It's quick, almost accidental, but it sends a ripple through you. The faintest shiver runs down your spine—a brief flash of something familiar, something you thought you’d left behind. You hold your breath, fighting the pull to reach for him again, to find some kind of solace in the warmth of a touch you know all too well, yet fear all the same.

His gaze drifts to the booth you once claimed as your own, where laughter still seems to echo like a ghost. For a moment, he’s lost in it, he's sure a part of you both still haunts the seats. His focus snaps back to you, but not before you catch him looking, and feel the weight of why you’ve been avoiding that booth, too.

"Yeah," you mutter, shifting your gaze to avoid his eyes. The ice in your glass rattles with a quiet shake as you try to steady your hands. "Maybe it's your fault for thinking I needed you to protect me."

John’s expression tightens at your words. He takes another drag from his cigar, the ember glowing faintly in the low light. The smoke hangs between you.

His eyes search yours, measuring how far he can push, how much you’ll let him in. You shift in your seat, the weight of the pain dragging you down like a leaking hull.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally says, his gaze falters from your own. "Thought I needed to protect you... I was wrong." His words are slow as if he's testing the waters, trying to see if there's any chance that you’ll let him in again.

A part of you wants to believe him, to believe that he didn’t leave because he wanted to, but the years of silence weigh too heavy. You wonder if it’s too late for any of this.

You aren't sure how to respond. The anger still simmers beneath your skin, but there's something else you can't shake. He’s not the same man who left you all those years ago. Or maybe he is, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes now that wasn’t there before. You see it. You sense it. He's changed, and so have you.

Swallowing hard, you try to keep your emotions in check.. The years of being alone, of picking up the pieces... You won’t let him see that. Not yet, at least.

Tears well up, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall.

"I don’t think I can ever forgive you for what you did," you manage, the words scraping like gravel in your throat.

John looks down at his glass, his shoulders heavy as he swirls the whiskey, staring into it like it holds answers he’ll never find. When he finally takes a sip, the light in his eyes has dimmed, replaced with something harder, something resigned. He doesn’t argue, doesn’t offer excuses.

The silence stretches between you, broken only by the soft hum of the bar. You glance at the booth again, the ghost of a memory flickering there—a quiet laugh, his hand brushing yours, the fleeting hope you’d felt back then.

"But," you say, voice trembling despite your best efforts. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself, clenching your fists as if the words themselves weigh more than you can bear. "I... I’d like to try."

For the first time tonight, you meet his gaze fully, no longer avoiding his eyes, no longer pretending that none of this matters.

You see it then—the faintest flicker of something in his eyes. Not hope, exactly, but something close to it. Nostalgia. A question he doesn’t yet dare to ask.

The tension lingers, heavier now, while the soft blues and whines of an electric guitar drift back into focus. Neither of you moves, neither of you speaks. It feels as though the past itself is watching, waiting to see if its grip on you both can finally loosen.

John leans forward slightly, pressing the stub of his cigar into the ashtray with deliberate care before setting it aside. His shoulders sag just enough to betray the weight he’s been carrying. He lingers there, the silence palpable, before letting out a breath he’s been holding for years.

"I’d like that," he says, his voice almost a whisper.

tags | @fruitymoonbeams-blog