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twilightkitkat · 15 days ago

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Part 4 of thinking about the reaction another universe's Logan would have to meeting Wade. To Wade and Logan's relationship.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@ramblingautisticman @desperatelyneedcoffee @di-abolical @bladenbrush @animaniac1017 @amethyst-loves-bucky @lookimjusthereforthevibes @insantfishsoup @mischievous-thunder

---

They arrived back at the mansion in a haze.

By the time the other X-men arrived, the man who'd kidnapped Logan was long gone. He'd disappeared without a trace, and taken The Wolverine with him.

Apparently the fucker had planned this, considering the other X-men all encountered problems right when Wade, Logan, and Other-Logan had faced off with him. He was smart, using technology and some of his stronger underlings to hold them off long enough to make a clean escape.

The worst feeling was realizing it had been premeditated. He clearly set up a situation where he'd be capable of taking Logan—distracting the other X-men and making sure an ability restraint collar was nearby.

Moreover, he'd known that Wade's Logan was different from this world's Logan. He'd had plenty of openings for all of them, so it was clear that his choice to target his Logan was intentional.

(Did Wade lead Logan to his doom? Was he responsible for Logan's kidnapping if he indirectly brought him here, right into the open mouth of a hidden predator?)

The other X-men had tried to track him to no avail. When they returned, Charles tried to locate him using Cerebro, but he couldn't get a signal. The villain had even planned for that, probably using some rip-off Magneto helmet.

It made Wade want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Other-Logan hadn't left his side since they'd returned. He'd kept a steady hand on his back or arm wrapped around his shoulders, grounding him. Wade wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was the only thing really tethering him to reality at the moment. The only thing stopping him from devolving into a full-blown panic attack like he had the second Logan left his sight.

(The X-men had found them there, curled up together on the ground. Logan was stroking Wade's hair and murmuring quietly, an arm protectively wrapped around his back. Wade was rocking back and forth slightly, a hysterical look in his eyes.

Logan had glanced back at them and jerked his head, signaling for them to leave. When a few hesitated, he damn near snarled as his arm tightened further, nearly crushing Wade in his grip.

They'd left them alone after that.)

Wade, for once, was silent. He couldn't keep up his typical stream of banter and crude humor when he knew Logan was in real danger. He stared off into the distance, barely registering anything around him.

In his peripheral vision, he saw people frantically running around. Relaying information. Shouting orders.

It all felt hazy. Like he was in a dream, witnessing everything unfold but unable to control it. His focus was simultaneously everywhere and nowhere all at once. He heard little tidbits of information—urgent whispering and confused reactions as the X-men tried to plan their next course of action—but he couldn't really hear anything.

It was like sand. He could feel it between his feet, vaguely, but if he tried to grasp out and focus on one area of information, he felt it slip through his fingers. Everything was blurring together—people formed into little blobs of color, and actions registered in his brain like a lagging computer.

He felt lost, for lack of a better word. Like he was drifting, waiting for the moment where he'd wake up and this would all be a dream. Waiting for the moment he could curl up next to Logan and reach out to cradle his face and finally fucking kiss him like he should've done ages ago.

Nothing was real. Everything was too real. Reality shattered into tiny little shards that buried themselves into his skin and made him bleed out until he was just a bloodless, lifeless, husk of a person.

(Wade just wanted to go home.)

---

Logan groaned, eyes flickering shut again as the bright light assaulted his eyes. Fucking hell, he thought, what did I drink to get this fucked up?

As he drifted into consciousness—slowly, as if his body was against the very idea of waking up—he became a bit more aware of his surroundings.

The place was unfamiliar to him. It looked clinical, almost like a laboratory or hospital of some type. Full of pristine white walls and beeping monitors and technology he was far too old to know the purpose of.

...Did I end up in a hospital, somehow? He figured his healing factor would kick in if he ever managed to drink enough to do serious liver damage, but maybe he'd overloaded it.

He tried to remember how he got here, what in God's name would possess him to drink like a sheltered Christian girl gone wild at her first college party, but his memory was hazy. Out of reach. He would try to grasp onto the tendrils of a vague image in his mind, only for them to jerk out of his grasp at the last moment.

He tried to sit up, to ask where the fuck he was and how he got there, but he slammed back on the table with a huff. He glanced down and saw he was strapped to it, tight leather straps binding his chest and arms and legs.

This probably wasn't a hospital, then. Good to know.

He tried struggling against the straps to no avail. It only caused them to chafe uncomfortably against his muscles.

The old-fashioned way, then. He unsheathed his claws and��

—What? Why weren't his claws coming out?

He tried clenching his hands into fists again and focusing on them. Trying to activate the signal that caused them to slide out of his knuckles so he could slice away his bindings.

Nothing.

He was starting to get anxious. He'd been calmer, before, knowing that he was practically unkillable and nobody would be stupid enough to try to kidnap him. He always had an easy out, whether it was regeneration or slicing his surroundings up.

He struggled harder against the leather, uncaring of how it left red marks imprinted on his skin. Wade would probably have a fucking field day if he saw Logan right now. He could already his voice in his head, cooing at him, "Awww, did peanut have a mishap with some bondage? How kinky. If you wanted to try it out all you had to do was ask."

Wait. Wade.

Where the fuck was Wade? What happened to him?

If Logan was here, did that mean Wade was trapped somewhere nearby? Or was he still at home in their apartment, blissfully unaware that Logan had been taken. If he realized Logan was gone, would he come to save him?

More than that, if these guys had a way of stopping Logan from using his claws, what could they do to Wade? When Wade inevitably came looking for him (he would, Logan knew he would) would he be prepared to deal with whatever they were using? Or was he under the influence of it right now?

Logan renewed his struggle with ferocity. He needed to warn Wade. Figure out if these fuckers had him or were targeting him and kill them. It was starting to burn now, to dig into his skin and twist until the layers peeled apart and he began bleeding.

He glared at the wounds. He wouldn't let a little blood stop him. He'd broken out from worse restraints before, weakened state aside. He didn't know who the hell took him, but they were idiots for only using a material as flimsy as leather to trap him. Even metal wasn't enough to hold The Wolverine. All he had to do was wait for the bruises and raw skin to heal and he'd keep going, working with persistence until his bindings were worn down.

Except he wasn't healing. He stared at the reddened skin, waiting for it to go back to normal. Nothing happened.

He felt the rawness of it in full. Felt the way it burned against the leather, aching for release. Felt the way it protested against the friction.

It wasn't going away.

Shit.

Something told Logan this was going to be harder than he thought.

---

"I brought you a glass of water," Logan cleared his throat awkwardly as he entered Wade's room, setting the cup down on his nightstand.

"...Thanks," Wade mumbled. Now that he thought about it, he guessed he was thirsty. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

He picked up the glass of water and held it in his lap. He stared down at it, willing himself to drink but unable to move. All he could focus on was his own reflection in the water, a mangled mass of tumorous flesh that was barely held together by his skin fibers.

He kind of looked like a wrinkly avocado had an orgy with a pack of raisins and a vat of acid and spat him out. Or a sea sponge decided to have human offspring that got burnt in a forest fire. Either way, he looked freakish. Like a monster.

(He was a monster, wasn't he? Just sitting here while Logan was out there, unable to do anything. Useless as always. The only thing Wade was good for was comedic relief, and he wasn't even managing to do that right.)

"Are you gonna drink that, bub?"

Logan's voice startled Wade, tearing him away from his spiraling thoughts. He nearly dropped the glass of water, but managed to grab it in time. He gripped it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. If he applied any more pressure, he was pretty sure it would break. Shattered into glass fragments that would dig into his palms and the soles of his feet until he was as torn up on the outside as he felt on the inside. It was a tempting thought.

"Hey, Wade, can you hear me?" Logan waved his hand in front of Wade's eyes, a concerned expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I was just checking in to see if you're gonna drink the water or keep staring at it like a mirror."

Wade grimaced slightly, but finally managed to lift the cup to his lips and take a sip.

And fuck, he was thirsty. As soon as the first bit of water hit his throat it was like he couldn't stop, like he finally registered how dry it felt. He gulped down the water hungrily in one go until none of it was left. He sighed in relief once it was gone, setting it back down sheepishly.

Logan looked at him, and Wade could practically see the gears turning in his head from how his stare burned into Wade's skull. He was considering something, going to open his mouth a few times before closing it, until he finally seemed to settle on something to say.

"You miss him, huh?" That didn't come out nearly as nice as Logan thought it would in his head, if his frustrated look was anything to go by.

"What gave you that impression?" Wade remarked drily.

"No, I mean—" Logan cut himself off and took a deep breath (he seemed to do that around Wade a lot) before speaking again, "You care about him. A lot."

Wade looked up uncertainly. Where was this going? "...I do," he reluctantly replied.

"...What would you do? If something happened to him, I mean?"

"I'd hunt down the fucker who dared to lay a hand on him and disembowel them. Tear them limb from limb. Burn them alive. Torture them in a slow and agonizing way until they were begging to die, and then keep going until there was nothing left of them," Wade's eyes sharpened for the first time since Logan had disappeared. His glare was fierce—a promise of unimaginable pain if anyone dared to lay hands on what was his.

"You'd do that? For him?" Other-Logan looked vaguely shocked, but at the same time hungry. Desperate to know more.

"I'd do that and more. I'd tear this fucking world apart if that's what it took to find him." A declaration. A promise.

"Why?" A breathless whisper.

"Because he saved me. Even if I was the one to haul his ass up and out of that goddamn bar, he saved me. He's the one who still chose to save my world even if he didn't know if he could save his own. He's the one who chose to sacrifice his life so I could go back to them. He's the one who held my hand to fucking Madonna as we beat the odds and both lived because we had each other."

"He..." Logan began.

"He's the one who accepted my shitty olive branch and came to my apartment. He's the one who made my stupid depressing bachelor's pad feel like a home. He's the one who goes with me on all of the grueling, hard missions and watches my back so we can take turns sleeping. He's the one who helps me walk Mary Puppins and goes grocery shopping with me and cooks me dinner that doesn't make me want to throw up. He's the one who—" Wade's voice cracked.

"Wade..."

"No, let me finish. I need to get this out. He's the one who wakes up next to me every morning. Who makes the days where I want to tear off my own fucking skin tolerable because at least I get to be beside him. He's the only one who looked at my disgusted, fucked-up shriveled ballsack of a face and didn't flinch. When even Vanessa did. He's the only one who saw me and still accepted it. Who stayed when I asked."

Tears began to fill his eyes, "And now he's gone because of me. He got taken away before I got to fucking tell him that. Before I could thank him properly for everything and tell him that I want him to stay forever. Now he could die thinking I left him behind on purpose, when all I've wanted to do since I met him was keep him close. I just... I wish I had the courage to man up. To tell him how I feel."

"How you feel?" Logan's eyes were dilated, and he darted out his tongue to lick his lips.

"Yeah, tell him that aside from the buddy-buddy partnership we've had going on, I wanted more. I wanted him. Entirely."

"In what way?"

"I wanted to fucking kiss him and never let go. And now... now I may never get the chance. I spent so fucking long agonizing over it, thinking that if I made a move I could ruin everything. And now it's all ruined anyway. And I don't even know if he feels the same."

"...What do you mean, you don't know if he feels the same?" Logan's stared at him, blankly.

"...I don't know if he returns my feelings? I know you're a little slow, Wolvie, but do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"You're being serious right now." Logan deadpanned. "You actually can't tell?"

"Can't tell what?"

"Look," Logan sighed. "When we get him back, just tell him how you feel. I doubt he—I—would react as badly as you're fearing."

"...How would you know?"

"Because I'm him. And there is no way in hell I wouldn't love you too." Logan's voice was firm, a fierce determination in his eyes.

"What?" Wade stared at him, dumbfounded.

"If I lived with you—hell, even if I didn't—in any universe, as long as you were the same person. I'd love you. I know it."

Wade laughed wetly. "You're just saying that. Because you feel bad for me. Because you don't even know if we're going to get him back and you're trying to reassure me."

"No, I'm not. I mean it."

"Yes, you are. Logan, you're—you're a hero. You're the X-man. You're fucking righteous and angry and strong and the image of peak masculinity. If testosterone had a human embodiment, you'd be it. You're meant to be in love with Jean Gray or some other woman who's kind and smart and pretty. Who completes the picture for you. Not me, a morally ambiguous mercenary who looks like they got dipped in the deep fryer at a McDonald's."

Other-Logan grabbed his face, suddenly. Leaned in until their foreheads were touching, until their lips were just inches apart.

"That's not true," he whisper-growled, "Why do you get to decide what would complete my picture, huh? Maybe instead of a boring pretty girl, I'd prefer a mouthy fucking mercenary who can't seem to wrap his head around the concept of self-worth. What if that were true instead?"

"Then I'd call you fucking delusional and a horrible liar," Wade retorted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Is this delusional, then?"

Logan's lips crashed against his. Wade just barely had time to open his mouth in shock and then Logan's tongue was pushing its way in, scraping past his teeth and tangling with his.

Logan's arms slid around his back, grabbing onto his waist, and Wade leaned into the touch against his will. Logan pulled back for a moment, barely long enough to breathe, and then dove back at a deeper angle. Wade groaned, deeply in the back of his throat, and wrapped his arms around Logan's neck, digging his fingers into the hair at the base of his nape to yank him closer.

Wade began kissing back with fervor, pressing forward to swallow Logan's lips too. He pushed him over and Logan tumbled onto the bed with him, landing on his back as Wade pinned him from above. It felt good. Good in a way he'd long forgotten kisses could feel, since his mutation.

Wade felt like he was floating, like he was having an out-of-body experience. There was no way this could be real: him, making out with another version of Logan while his was kidnapped. It sounded like the plot of some shitty Wattpad fanfiction. (Or Tumblr, if he was being generous.)

Logan's arms slithered further down his back as Wade moved to grip his shoulders, leaning in impossibly closer. He felt a heat begin to coil in his gut. (Really? Now, of all times? With him, of all people?)

Finally, after one last searing kiss, he pulled away. He had to. If he kept going, he wouldn't be able to hold himself back from crossing a line that he didn't think he could return from. (Wade may be insane, but even he had limits. And fucking the spitting image of the love of your life while they're getting tortured is one of them.)

"That was..."

"Intense?" Logan supplied.

"Yeah. Intense."

Wade sighed and flopped down next to Logan, running a hand over his face. If he focused, he could still taste the faint hint of whiskey. Figures, he thought, I don't know what else Logan would taste like.

"Do you believe me now?" Logan's eyes met his again. They were prodding him to look closer. To see the honesty and vulnerability and affection he felt. For Wade of all people. (If this was how Other-Logan felt, how did his own Logan compare?)

"Would be kinda hard not to," Wade let out a breathy chuckle.

"Thought so," Logan smirked.

"My Logan... he..."

"Probably feels the same. Wait, no. Scratch that. He definitely feels the same."

Wade snorted. "Fitting that I'd only realize it when he's in peril. The character development of an action comic book character can only be spurred by action, huh?"

"The hell are you on about? Comic books?"

"Don't worry about it," Wade dismissed him with a flick of his hand. "Stupid reference. You wouldn't get it. The point is that I believe you. If—when I find my Logan, I'm going to tell him how I feel."

"Gonna man up for once?"

Wade punched his shoulder, holding back a laugh. "Shut up. You don't get to say shit about manning up with half of your personality is just acting like a gigantic kitty cat."

"I do not act like a kitty cat."

"I bet you fucking stare in the mirror each morning and style your ear tufts to try to look like one. You capitalize on it, don't you? 'Oh look, I'm The Wolverine! I run around acting all mainly all while practically wearing cat ears like a middle school girl would to a Halloween Dance—'"

This time it was Logan who punched him. In the gut. Hard. (Ouch.) At least he didn't pull out the claws.

Wade's laughter trailed off, a more serious expression overtaking his face again. Logan noticed the shift in demeanor, judging by how his posture tensed slightly.

"Hey, Logan, you—"

"It's fine."

"But I didn't—"

"I know what you're gonna say, bub. And it's fine. I can deal with my own feelings, despite what you think I'm a bit more mature than a middle school girl running around in cat ears," Logan gave him a half-hearted smirk.

"But you said that you..."

"I did. And I do. But I know that while you may like me, who you really love is him. You're just chasing after the image of him, the closest thing you could get while he was away. The second best option," Logan's smile fell into more of a grimace.

Wade glared at him and then grabbed his face. Logan startled slightly, but met his gaze. "Stop that. You're not just a 'replacement' for my Logan. You're your own person. He's not you, and you're not him. You're right, I do love my Logan, and in some ways, you do remind me of him, but you're not him. I know that and I knew that when I first met you. So stop being self-deprecating and thinking that you aren't good enough just because I have my heart set on someone else."

Logan blinked at him, owlishly, eyes widening slightly. Then they visibly softened. "Christ, Wade. You really are one of a kind. This is gonna be harder than I thought."

"Love triangles are a bitch," Wade supplied. "They're a lazy writing device by authors who have no better plot points than introducing unneeded romantic tension."

"Yeah, well, I have plenty of experience dealing with them. It won't kill me, or I'd have died by Jean and Scott's hands a long time ago."

"Old."

"Shut it."

Wade's eyes lowered slightly. "My Logan... he's gonna be okay, right? I mean, obviously, he's strong as hell—you should know considering he's a version of you—but do you think he's holding on? What if he's scared? Or hurt? Or—"

"He'll be okay." Other-Logan's hand grasped his firmly. "We'll find him for you. I promise."

And just for a moment, Wade shut his eyes and let himself believe it.

---

Logan groaned in exhaustion as his head fell back against the table. He'd been struggling for what felt like hours without any progress. His skin felt tender in a way he'd never experienced before, raw and bloody and torn to the innermost layer.

It was then, just as he'd tired himself out, that the doorknob rattled.

Logan tensed up immediately, eyeing the door warily. His senses felt dulled under whatever type of drugs they had him on, and he was unable to pick up any useful information through his other senses like he normally could.

(It was vaguely unnerving, not being able to smell or hear people from the other room. Even if was overwhelming at times, it was his normal. It was like being able to see colors his whole life, even if sometimes they were blindingly bright, and then having the ability stolen from him. Suddenly becoming colorblind. It felt like a weakness. A disability that he'd never learned to live with.)

A man stepped in. He was a patchwork of human and futuristic robotic parts. He looked vaguely familiar, in a way Logan couldn't quite place.

"Ah, I see you've awakened," the man looked at him coolly. "That's good, it means my dosage was correct. How are you feeling?"

That voice was familiar, too. It sounded almost like—like—

("We can do this the easy way or the hard way.")

Suddenly, everything snapped into place. Like a part of his memory that was temporarily offline finally connected to the Internet. Like a piece of his brain slotted back where it was supposed to be.

"You're the asshole who broke Wade's communicator and kidnapped me," Logan growled accusingly.

That's right. He wasn't in his own world right now. He'd followed Wade here after not hearing from him for nearly a month, only to get separated again by this fucker. He must be in this guy's villainous lair, then.

"So you remember. I take that to mean that you're feeling better," the man said as he smiled at him politely.

His eyes were devoid of any light or real emotion. It sent a shiver up Logan's spine. The asshole probably got off on the power trip of acting all calm and collected while his victims panicked.

"What do you want with Wade? With me?" Logan snapped.

The man hummed to himself, sifting through a selection of tools sitting on a tray beside the table. "With the Deadpool variant? Nothing. With you, on the other hand..." the man trailed off, seemingly searching for something. His eyes lit up in recognition as he grabbed a vial off the table. "Here we go," he murmured under his breath, sounding pleased.

"Now, back to what I was saying." The deceptively pleasant tone had returned. It felt formal. Corporate. "You see, an interesting phenomenon happened not too long ago. One I think you'd happen to know quite a bit about."

"Stop stalling."

"Now, now. Patience. You see, normally, when timelines begin to unravel, they die out. It isn't a pleasant process. Things begin going wrong: people disappear, things swap places, rules of the world begin bending. It's almost as if the very fabric of the universe itself is collapsing."

"Your point?"

"And yet... that didn't happen to your universe, did it? Or, the Deadpool variant's universe, to be accurate. Oh, no, even after an anchor being in your universe died and it was destabilized intentionally, your universe recovered." The man spun an object that resembled a syringe between his fingers.

The man continued, "Such a curious thing... a universe being able to recover from the brink of collapse. When I heard of it, I thought it was just a fable. A tall tale. And yet, when I looked into it, can you imagine my surprise when I found out it was true? That it was possible to replace an anchor being?"

For some reason, those words stuck out to Logan. Something big was going on. Something very decidedly not good.

"It's a revolutionary idea. One that had never even been attempted before. ...But here you are. Physical proof that an anchor being can be replaced. The only successful anchor being transplanted between universes throughout all of history."

"What does that have to do with you kidnapping me?" Logan wished this guy could just get to the fucking point. The worst part of these types of monologues was the anticipation, the not knowing what to do next until he had enough information to try to roughly throw a plan together.

At least Wade was safe, if this guy wasn't lying. It made Logan feel slightly better to know that they didn't want anything from him. (Directly, at least. Logan knew that Wade would get involved in this one way or another, whether this villain thought he was relevant to his plan or not.)

"You see," the man stopped twirling the syringe. It rested between his index finger and thumb. "My universe isn't doing too well. Our anchor being died a few centuries ago, and the effects are beginning to catch up to us."

Logan's breath hitched.

"I think you'd be interested to know that our old anchor being was a Wolverine. Just like you," the man smiled tightly at him. "Everyone was lost on what to do until I had a brilliant idea. We can just... replicate Deadpool's little experiment. Using the one and only person who's proven himself capable of molding to be an anchor being for another universe."

His blood ran cold. This was significantly worse than he'd thought. This monologue insinuated that he not only had the capability of dimensional travel, but also the advantages of technology from several hundred years in the future.

"So we lured you here. Stirred up just enough trouble for the TVA to take notice and send out their favorite little mercenaries," the man spoke flippantly. Arrogantly. "Unfortunately, you didn't show up at first. What a pity. We could've met sooner. Luckily, I figured that you'd pull up to the party if your little partner got stuck."

"I refuse."

"What?"

"I refuse," Logan repeated. "I don't care what you say. I'm not going to go to your world and act as an anchor being there."

(Logan wouldn't. No matter what. Not after he'd finally found a home worth fighting for. One that could very well become unstable and collapse without him there to protect it.)

"You seem to misunderstand," the man spoke conversationally, "I wasn't asking you."

"And you seem to misunderstand," Logan snarked back. "I wasn't asking either."

The asshole merely chuckled. "You say that, and yet you'll change your mind."

"How? Are you gonna beat me up? You think I haven't seen my way around the torture block before?" Logan mocked.

"No, no. I have something better than torture." The man's smile turned razor-sharp, contorting his face in a way that would've been comical if it wasn't so horrific. "Do you remember how... disoriented you were when you woke up? How it took a second to regain your memory?"

Now that he mentioned it, that was odd. Logan figured he'd sustained some type of concussion because his healing factor wasn't working properly or that it was a side effect of whatever anesthetic he'd been on.

"You see, in the future, abilities are much more advanced. And so are the tools you can create with them."

"...And?"

"And one of those handy tools allows me the privilege of altering your memories. Permanently."

What the fuck.

"What you saw before was just a glimpse of its abilities. I can erase memories, yes, but I can also rebuild them. I won't have to force you to come with me to my world, I'll make it so that you'll come willingly."

"You insane piece of shit," Logan muttered.

"I think I'm quite psychologically sound, actually. If I forced you to come with me, you'd never stop trying to escape. I've seen the wills of Wolverines from other universes, and it's not to be trifled with. Additionally, your friends and the TVA would never stop looking for you."

"Damn right, I'll never stop trying to escape."

"—But, if I can make you come willingly, then that fixes all of the issues. Not only would your emotional ability to forge the bond as an anchor being be heightened, but you'd cease your escape attempts. You'd be able to convince the TVA that you want this, that you choose to stay willingly. And, well, you know consent laws."

"Pretty sure brainwashing isn't protected by consent laws, bub," Logan retorted.

The man kept talking, "The TVA has a lot on their plate. If I managed to make it impossible to undo, they'd let it go. That version of you would be long gone, anyway. Nothing left to save. They'd let me have the scraps so that they can keep their little documentation of you going."

Logan wanted to argue, but that did sound like something the TVA would do. They might be allies right now, but at its core, the TVA was a capitalistic, ruthless organization hellbent on efficiency and stability of all timelines. They'd cut their losses where they had to.

"Now," the man seemed to be content now that he'd finished his monologue, "let's get started, shall we?" The man walked closer to him, holding that same damn syringe he'd been fiddling with before.

Logan fought the urge to thrash again, his muscles coiled tightly as he instinctively plastered himself as far back against the table as he could. As if that would help.

He began putting on gloves, "I do have to come clean before we start. I know I implied I wouldn't torture you, but that was a bit of a lie. Do forgive me. While the formula I have is effective, we're running a bit short on time. And the results can be sped up when accompanied by some... psychological reprogramming.

That didn't sound good.

"Nothing too bad. I suppose you'll live up to your name as an animal, though, considering we'll have to train you like one. To not disobey orders. Or ever think of leaving," the man fastened a mask to his face. At least followed medical hygiene regulations.

"And you know how animals are," the man walked over to him, preparing an area on his arm by wiping it with alcohol first. Logan tried to thrash, but he merely tutted and pushed him down with his inhuman strength.

"They learn best through pain."

The ice-cold liquid flooded Logan's veins. It felt like he was freezing and on fire simultaneously. It caused him to let out an aborted yell before his throat closed up as his vision went black.

As black spots invaded his vision, he just barely made out the silhouette of the man as he retrieved a sharp, metal object.

And then he was gone.

#poolverine #deadclaws #kitkat #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool movie #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan #wade/logan #wow this took a second #ngl did NOT expect wade and other logan to get that far #but omg bro overtook my writing to say it had to happen #it was too good #i hope yall enjoyed #i keep saying 1 more part but idek #the plots nearing an end tho

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stargirlo · 6 months ago

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𝓜EET THE FUSHIGURO'S — ( 𝕿 ) OJI FUSHIGURO │ "dear babygirl, i'm sorry that your father is not active inside your world." (angst)

not everyone has such a perfect life, but not everyone has such a complex life. things aren't meant to go in a straight line, but things also aren't meant to be in a bumpy ride. everything felt like a maze, trying to find a way to escape this hell hole without any blocks or bumps coming into life — your life, toji's life. everyone has goals, everyone has dreams, everyone can achieve some of their goals and dreams, but some of them don't. and it's fucking hard to overcome that.

being in a relationship with toji fushiguro, ah, toji fushiguro. you aren't married to him but somehow you managed to birth out two beautiful children, first being a beautiful baby boy, megumi fushiguro. he's identical to toji, same hair, same facial features, everything looked alike between the two. in the next few years, a beautiful baby girl now came into the world, tsumiki fushiguro. personality wise, she's just like you, a kind-hearted soul, a sweet girl who should be held with care. you know those stickers that are added to packages when you buy something that can break easily; "fragile. handle with care." yeah, that's tsumiki, and you.

even if the family of four didn't have all the luxury, they say that it's the littlest things that can balm your shell.

remember how you used to be so fragile, so kind, and so, so sweet. well that wasn't permanent, and it was only temporary as soon as toji was on and off with family. you know he's working, but you don't know what or who he's working for or who he's even working with. even a man can have his own struggles; but what kind? gambling problems? drinking problems? pill-popping and spending problems? bad with money? only toji knows.

"mama when is daddy coming back?" "is daddy gonna come to my ninth birthday?" "are we gonna watch frozen with daddy?" "is daddy gonna help us with our timetables?"

those questions tire you because you don't know, you really don't. you wish you could explain where he's at, but with so little information and so little contact, you don't know where the fuck that man is.

until this one night where you left yourself and toji into shambles.

carefully leaving your bed in which tsumiki and megumi are currently sleeping in, you set yourself off to leave and relax on the living room. it took some time for the kids to sleep, it took more time for you to even sleep despite having to wake up early for work tomorrow.

not until the jangling keys were hear through the front door, and the loud creak audibly heard across the hallway and onto the living room. he's here. you looked across the room just to make sure it was him, even though you know it is him because he's the only one that has a spare apartment key to his own place. or rather your place now.

"the fucking nerve," you grumble under your breath, a vein almost popping out of your skin. getting up from the couch you came up to him, the reeking scent of alcohol lingered just two feet away from you. the musky scent of sweat and dirt combined with such a foul smell that made your whole face twist and scrunch. eye bags were visible, hair disheveled and greasy, lips chapped, breath probably smelling horrible, and clothes needing to be washed asap. he's a fucking mess.

"mm- what? 'm home..." he spoke lowly, scratching his head as he always kept up his nonchalant nature. one of his hands held a medium sized plastic bag, hanging lazily between his fingers. "yeah no shit." you said sternly, arms crossing in disbelief as your eyes followed all over him like he was some sort of homeless person. "what's up with you? why're mad, babe..?" he cocked a brow, energy low and definitely not in the mood to hear your constant babbling.

you scoffed. what is up with you anyway? is he fucking with you? "what's up with me is that you didn't come home in almost about a month. you look like a fucking mess and you smell like absolute shit." now the jet black haired man knew that shit was getting serious, the way you're just talking to him like that, and the way you're saying that he smells like shit. he needs to tighten up because your points are right about him. "what a nice way to welcome me back, thought i was expecting a kiss or sumn'–"

"are you kidding me, toji? showing up at midnight and acting all nonchalant and shit. you don't understand how fucking worried i was for you? even the kids were asking me about you, keeping them on their toes everyday without any news from you and praying that you'll be okay. do you understand what you are fucking putting me through just now? work was the only thing being up my ass and now there are multiple other things that i have in my hands and in my care." you rasped, eyebrows pinching together as frustration slowly seeped into your nerves, holding back the urge to lash at him. "instead of you, the man of the house, having all the courage to take care of its family, you fucking destroy it. fucking us all up." your hands ball into fists, the whole scene turning into a tense argument.

"you should've been teaching megumi his timetables, or maybe watching frozen with tsumiki. you missed out on my baby girl's birthday, she just turned nine and i could tell that her birthday wish was for you to come back." slowly, your voice started to crack, salty tears welling up your dropping eyes. "and what have you been doing during those times where i've worked my ass off overtime at a fucking convenient store? huh? i'm so tired, toji, and i bet you are too. but the way you're just unexpectedly showing up when you're the reason you've put me at my lowest is fucking unacceptable." you spat, a streak of tear running down your cheek. toji exhales deeply, knowing how you feel and it was actually his fault that you turned out this way. guilt and frustration washes through him, not having any other excuse about his absence.

"look, the point is that 'm here now. and i promise that i won't leave without letting you know, i promise i'll build a connection with our kids–" and then again, you interrupted his promises. "promise? hah– you? promising something that you'll do again? make up your fucking mind, toji. you broke our promises, you said that you'll marry me someday; that's a fucking lie. you said you'll get payed more and pay off our bills; that's also a fucking lie because you're using that shit to buy rum and gamble out the money that could save our life. look at you, fucking pathetic. you're embarrassing yourself at this point because i know what your true intentions are, toji. are you still popping pills to keep yourself at your feet? did you fuck whores at a brothel while you're at it?" those bitter and heartless words have left toji in shock, of course it has, you know him well and clear — like he was an open book to you.

"did you buy tsumiki the barbie doll that she asked for a few months ago? or did you gamble that money?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as your expression was evident that you were not buying this. "because i know for sure that i was counting pennies at the grocery store to buy that fucking toy for tsumiki–" you spat, holding back from having a psychotic episode before toji's gruff voice interrupted you now. "don't speak like that if you're going to mention our daughter." he gives off a warning, but you could only scoff at disbelief at it, why's he all of a sudden caring so much? "our daughter? no no no, you barely did shit for her and now you're trying to be on your goody-two-shoes to act like you care about our daughter? where were you when i gave birth to her, huh? where were you when i gave birth to megumi?" your voice echoed through the hallway, the argument getting louder that the kids would probably hear it.

"megumi, why's mommy yelling?" tsumiki asked in a hoarse voice, waking up to the ruckus happening outside of the bedroom. megumi softly hushed the little girl, placing his hands that are slightly bigger than hers to her ears, muffling your shouts and derogatory words. "it's gonna be okay, she's just talking to daddy..." he murmured reassuringly, hiding the fact that he's on the edge of tearing up after finding out the truth about the absence of his father.

"you're acting like you did most of the work when you haven't been on my shoes." toji stated, his stomach twisting at the fact that you bought up the way he wasn't with you during labor. "because i did most of the work you dickhead! you barely didn't show up for your own family, for your own lover who was giving birth to your fucking kids! how would you think i was feeling during that time toji?! squeezing the nurses hand instead of yours while i was popping my ass off to give you two beautiful kids into this shitty life!" you shouted, already having a mental breakdown as more tears bubbled within your lower lashline. "you never open about yourself, you never show any ounce of affection ever since we had kids, you never did the bare minimum to show that you still love us! you're a fucking disappointment toji! you don't know nothing about taking care of things. waking up the kids? know nothing about that. teaching them basic human decency? know nothing about that. telling them to pray? know nothing about that. taking them to school? you know nothing about that." and that was the breaking point. the plastic bad dropped down to the floor as his calloused hands quickly loomed over to you to grab you at your shoulders.

"call me a disappointment one more time 'n see what fucking happens." he shook you like you were mentally ill, thinking that some sense would come to your mind. but could you let him get this physical with you? fuck no. "don't touch me you freak!" you squealed, hands that are smaller than his large ones grab his wrists as an attempt to pull away from his embrace. "can you take a second to understand what i've been going through?! jesus... haven't had a single moment to express myself for just a fucking minute." he grunts, the grip on your shoulders loosening up as he wasn't daring himself to even hurt you. no way.

"and what do you have to say to this, huh?! stop trying to figure out a useless excuse so that i could come back to you like nothing happened." you sniffled through your nose, soft hiccups eliciting through your slightly swollen lips. "please just hear me out–" toji exclaims, showing an ounce of vulnerability that he wasn't planning on expressing. "no! take your fucking shit and leave this goddamn place," you quickly push him away from your personal bubble, grasping the plastic bag and slamming it at his chest. "you're nothing but a fucking deadbeat who doesn't even deserve to be called a 'father'." and with that, he's standing by the front doorway, mentality absolutely destroyed as his face uttuerly grew pale. this was it. this was over.

"if you weren't raised in such a fucked up clan, maybe you shouldn't have been such a shit dad."

the aftermath of the argument left toji having a hole to his stomach. it was like daggers were digging deeper and deeper into his gut. what you yelled and screamed at him for was probably right, maybe he is a shit father; maybe he was born in a fucked up family and turned out this way. the plastic bag swung between his thick fingers, walking like a kicked puppy in the rain as he was lost in his thoughts.

a nearby trash can was visible along his way, now carelessly throwing away the bag and discarding it with the rest of the trash and pests that were there. what was in that bag anyway? take-out? alcohol? meds? no. they were two gifts that megumi and tsumiki were asking for a few months ago. a pretty blonde barbie doll in her pink little dress, and a few stacks of digimon cards. all of that went to waste.

meet the fushiguro's.

note: phewww, that was a lot. updating my masterlist tmrw. have a good night everyoneeeeeeeeee.

⠀( OWNED BY ) STARGIRLO.

do not plagiarize any of my works , translate them , or repost them anywhere around any other social media platform . thank you .