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redvexillum · 3 months ago

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Hello Anonnie, thank you for feeding the great Vexitober 2024. I also had a headache today, so this was an incredibly self-indulgent piece. I hope you'll see your dentist soon, 'cos things are about to get tooth-rotting fluffy.

Pain pulsed relentlessly through your skull, like a hammer repeatedly striking, each throb sending waves of agony through your temples. It wasn’t just your head, though – the stabbing sensation behind your eyes made it feel as if a thousand daggers were tearing through them.

You whimpered softly, curling up on your side in a tight fetal position, your ears flattening painfully against the back of your head. Even your small, normally perky tail dropped, pressing against your body as if trying to shield you from the unbearable ache.

This was Hell in its truest form. Wasn’t this place supposed to be torture for your soul? You’d never thought that meant literally headaches that felt like they could split your skull open. Could souls even get headaches? Apparently so, because the searing pain you were enduring right now was unlike anything you’d experienced in life. It was as though the universe had decided to answer your rhetorical question with a sliver platter of misery.

A sudden, lively burst of static followed by a too-cheerful voice shattered what little peace you’d managed to carve out. “Good morning, my little doe!” Alastor’s familiar, crackling tone cut through the air like a sharp knife. Normally, the sound of his voice would send a thrill of excitement through you, his energy infectious and wondrous. But right now, it was nothing short of torture. You let out a high-pitched whimper, your ears pressing harder against your head as if you could block out the noise.

You burrowed deeper into the blanket, pulling it up over your head in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the light, the sound, the world. But nothing could block out Alastor, not when he had his sights set on you.

The mattress dipped as he sat down beside you before you heard the rustle of your blankets. A moment later, his face appeared, his mischievous red eyes glowing from underneath the covers. “Oh, darling, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hide from me.” His grin widened, as smug as ever, his amusement palpable even in the low light.

You pouted, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain surged again, sharp and unwelcoming. “Alastor, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “My head…it hurts so much. Can’t you just let me rest for a little while?” Your hands came up to cradle your face, fingers pressing against your temples in a futile attempt to massage away the ache. But the pain didn’t subside. It only worsened, making you feel small, vulnerable, and utterly helpless.

“Oh, darling,” Alastor cooed, his voice soft yet dripping with that ever-present playfulness. His slender fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently but insistently pulling them away from your face. You blinked up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his touch, expecting something more teasing, more dismissive.

Instead, he squirmed his way into your makeshift blanket fort, wriggling closer until he was lying next to you on his side, his body warm and solid against yours. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, but this time they weren’t filled with the usual mischief. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead gently against yours, and you shivered as strands of his hair brushed against your cheeks, tickling you with their softness.

“Can you make the headache go away?” You whined softly, your voice small, fragile. It felt almost childish to ask, and you half-expected him to laugh, to make some cheeky remark about walking off the pain, as if a little stroll around the town would solve everything.

But to your surprise, his eyes softened even more, and instead of teasing, he nuzzled the tip of your nose with his. The affectionate gesture was so out of character, yet so heart-melting sweet, it made your chest tighten with warmth. “My, and here I thought you were just trying to shirk away from your cleaning duties today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You really must be in pain, darling.”

You scoffed, though there was no real bite behind it. “I’d much rather clean than deal with this awful headache,” you muttered, closing your eyes tight, trying to will the pain away. It throbbed persistently, but Alastor’s closeness offered a strange sort of comfort, his presence like a buffer between you and the agony.

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of his hand as they cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light but grounding. His fingers slowly drifted down, tracing the line of your jaw, then brushing softly against your neck before resting in the crook of your shoulder. The weight of his hand was soothing, almost as if he could absorb some of your pain. “Can you sit up, darling?” He asked softly, his voice a gentle coaxing, not the usual commanding tone you were used to.

Your eyes fluttered open, momentarily thrown off by the tenderness in his voice. Alastor – being gentle? It was a rare sight, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through you. Nodding slowly, you pushed yourself up from the bed, feeling the weight of your headache still pressing down but slightly less suffocating.

As soon as you were upright, a sudden shift occurred – his shadows, inky and alive, coiled around you in a silky embrace. Before you could react, the world around you blurred and changed. In the blink of an eye, the soft blankets of your bed were replaced by the cool, marshy grass of Alastor’s bayou. You were in his room, specifically on the side of his pocket dimension where the air was always thick with the scent of earth and wood, and the stars above twinkled like diamonds against the forever-evening sky.

You blinked, disoriented for a second, but the moment passed when you felt him behind you, his presence solid and reassuring. Alastor had positioned himself with his legs stretched out, encasing you within the circle of his body, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Slowly, with a gentleness that seemed foreign to him, he began to knead the tension out of your muscles, his long fingers working in small, firm circles.

“Oh,” you gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it, your body melting into his touch. Your eyes fluttered half-closed, a hazy warmth spreading through you as the tension in your muscles slowly ebbed away. His hands moved with surprising skill, untying knots you hadn’t even realized were there, each press of his fingers sending a soothing wave of relief through your body.

When he pressed a particular spot – right between your upper spine and just below your neck – you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you, your head falling back against him. The sensation was blissful, his fingers working wonders on the tightness in your shoulders and neck. “Y-you’re really good at this,” you mumbled, shivering as his fingers found another knot and worked it loose with practised ease.

“I would hope so,” Alastor hummed, his voice low and smooth, with just the faintest edge of something possessive. “After all, only I know what my little doe needs.” There was a protective, almost territorial note in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat.

It wasn’t just the physical touch that made his words sink deep – it was the way you fit so perfectly into his world. You were one of the few deer demons in Hell who not only tolerated butthrived in his eccentric, chaotic company.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “I can’t have my darling in pain,” he murmured, his hands never ceasing their gentle massage. “Especially when I’m the only one who knows how to make you feel better.” His tone was playful but layered with sincerity, a strange and intoxicating mixture of affection and mischief.

His fingers slid up through your hair, claws barely grazing your scalp as a wave of tingles surged down your spine, leaving warmth and comfort in their wake. The sensation sent your tail into a gentle rhythm, pat pat patting against the grassy ground as you melted under his touch. Every scrape of his claws ignited a sense of pleasure you hadn’t realized you craved until now.

“My,” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, his breath hot against your nape. “You must really enjoy this, don’t you?” The teasing edge in his voice was unmistakable, and you could practically hear the smirk hidden in his words. His chuckle was soft, poorly masked behind the affectionate taunting, sending another shiver through you.

“It’s not just me who enjoys this,” you huffed, your voice taking on a playful lilt as you tilted your head back slightly, hoping to guide his claws to that one perfect spot near the base of your fluffy ears. “You like it when I do this to you too, Alastor.” You sighed contentedly, the tension in your body easing as his claws finally grazed that elusive spot. His index finger trailed up gently, scratching just at the base of your left ear.

Every time his claw scraped the sensitive cartilage, your ear twitched in response, and you found yourself leaning back against him more fully, savouring the warmth of his broad chest behind you.

Alastor hummed, a low vibration that you could feel in the way his cheek rested on top of your head. His breath fanned through your hair with each exhale, carrying the faintest scent of something earthy and metallic. “I suppose I do enjoy it,” he mused, the words a soft hum against your ear. “But, darling, you don’t pamper me nearly enough. Why, I should be asking you to indulge me so!” His voice lifted, taking on a playful, dramatic tone that made you snort.

You barked out a laugh, but the sudden movement sent a sharp stab of pain through your head, reminding you that the headache still lingered beneath the comfort. You hissed softly, wincing as the ache flared again, though it was noticeably dulled thanks to Alastor’s efforts.

“Oh dear,” Alastor tutted, his voice dropping to something soft and almost chastising. His arms snaked around you, looping over your chest before pulling you down with him to the cool, marshy grass of the bayou floor. His warmth enveloped you as your back pressed against him, and despite the coolness of the evening air, the heat radiating from his body kept you wrapped in cozy contentment.

In the distance, the soft croak of frogs and the hum of crickets filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the intimate bubble you both shared.

With a gentle tug, he repositioned you so that your face was nestled against his chest, his legs tangling lazily with yours. The world seemed to slow down, and you felt your pulse start to sync with the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “Alastor?” You mumbled, trying to lift your head. But before you could fully raise yourself, his hand pressed softly against the back of your head, urging you to lay back down.

“Shh, darling,” his whispered, his voice softer now, almost protective. “Just rest.” His fingers began to stroke through your hair again, the slow, repetitive motion sending waves of comfort and peace over you. With each gentle brush of his hand, it felt as though he was physically pulling the tension and pain away, little by little.

You let out a soft sigh, surrendering to his touch as you relaxed fully against him. Your ears twitched at the soothing thud of his heartbeat. “It’s just a headache,” you murmured sleepily, your body going limp against him as the warmth and scent of him – of metal, earth, and something distinctly Alastor – enveloped you. “Hardly an illness.” You nuzzled further into his chest, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar, comforting scent ease the last remnants of pain away.

“It’s too late for me, I’m already contaminated,” Alastor declared dramatically, his voice suddenly bursting with theatrical flair. “I suppose we’ll have to be quarantined here together, won’t we?” His chuckle was soft, turning into a wistful sigh as he relaxed further, his arms tightening around you protectively.

You giggled softly at his antics, the sound vibrating against his chest. His dramatics never failed to make you smile, even in moments like this. His hand continued its slow, soothing stroke over your head, his touch like a balm against the sharp edges of the lingering headache. The pain, though still present, had dulled to a manageable hum, and soon, the gentle rhythm of his hand combined with the steady beat of his heart lulled you closer to sleep.

“Together,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavier. The stars above twinkled softly, the night sky in his bayou serene and timeless. The world felt small and safe here, nestled in his arms, the pain fading into the background as sleep pulled you under.

The last thing you felt before drifting off was the tender brush of Alastor’s hand stroking through your hair, and the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath you – a steady, comforting lullaby in the heart of the bayou.

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readsaboutreid · 7 months ago

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Everything To Me (Part 2) | S.R.

summary: (Y/N) finally takes the step to break things off with her shitty cheating boyfriend Warren after Spencer and her spend a perfect day (and night of passion) together, except things go awry when she tries to ask spencer out the next week only for him to spend the next few days giving her the cold shoulder.

this has smut so it's 18+ minors please dni

contains: fluffy pillow fort smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), munch!spencer, technically cheating because (Y/N) and Spencer fuck before she breaks up with her cheating asshole bf, angst/comfort

Part 1

He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him as their lips danced together. She responded by wrapping her own delicate arms around his neck and tugging lightly, rolling over until he was on top of her. Spencer's heart raced in his chest at the feeling of her legs wrapping around his hips and her fingers tangling into his hair. When had his pants gotten so tight?

His elbows rested next to her head on each side as he held himself above her and pulled back so he could finally say, "I love you, too, (Y/N)."

She looked up at him with stars in her eyes and her pupils blown wide, and time stopped for both of them. Time started moving normally again once she used the fingers she had in his hair to tug him back down and bring their lips back together. Their tongues tangled together this time, and Spencer felt his breath hitch in his throat before a groan ripped its way through his lips when she gently ground her hips up against his. He rocked his own hips back against her, savoring the way she whimpered into his mouth as he did.

This time, when Spencer pulled back, (Y/N) started clumsily unbuttoning her dress before he gently grabbed her hands. "Hey, there's no hurry. We don't have to do anything tonight if you don't want to—"

"I want to," she murmured softly while sitting up to resume the process of unbuttoning her dress. Then she added, "i-if you want to."

Spencer's only response was to nod eagerly and sit up when she did (slowly, as to avoid hitting his head on the top of the fort) to start unbuttoning his own cardigan and then his shirt followed. The two clumsily undressed until they were both in nothing but their undergarments, looking at each other with flushed cheeks. Spencer slowly crawled back over her while she laid back down, attaching his lips to hers yet again. He was already addicted to the taste of her lips and the sensation of her tongue against his.

He slid his hands up her waist and slowly around her back until they reached the clasp of her bra. He struggled to unhook it and (Y/N) reached around to undo it herself, only for him to give her a look that said, don't, I got this. After about 60 more seconds of fumbling, the final hook came undone and Spencer removed the small piece of clothing triumphantly, grinning into the kiss.

This time when he sat up, Spencer took it as an opportunity to fully take in her beauty. In the soft, warm glow of the fairy lights her skin took on a nearly ethereal quality. He tried (and failed) to keep his eyes from dropping immediately to her exposed breasts, but when he finally did lay his eyes on them (after about 2 seconds of said trying and failing), he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look away.

He had no idea how long he had been staring for when she snapped him out of his thoughts by softly giggling and sitting up so her face was only a few inches away, "my face is up here, Spencer."

"Sorry," he chuckled breathlessly and licked his lips, moving his eyes back to meet hers. He didn't manage to hold eye contact for very long, quickly dropping his eyes back to her breasts. His eyes bounced back and forth between hers and her breasts as he tentatively reached a hand up and shakily asked, "may I?"

She leaned back, resting her palms on the ground behind her and whispering, "be my guest." He wasted no time, reaching his hand out and cupping one of her breasts with it. An honest to god moan left his lips as he felt the soft, warm flesh in his palm. He brought the other hand up to grab the other one while his mouth found its place against hers again before trailing kisses from her mouth to her chin, and then down to her neck. He squeezed softly and brushed his thumbs over her hard nipples, gaining a soft gasp from her. He did it again, and again, and again, each time taking note of the way she'd squeeze and rub her thighs together while letting out soft whimpers.

He was so focused on toying with her breasts, moving his mouth to replace one of his fingers, gently sucking and swirling his tongue around the hardened nub, that he didn't notice her hand snaking onto his thigh. He definitely didn't notice her hand slowly creeping upward until it reached the hardness between his own legs. She wrapped her hand around him through his briefs and began slowly stroking up and down; he almost came instantly. He removed his mouth from her nipple and quickly gripped her wrist before gasping out a soft, "n-not yet. Tonight is all about you."

With that he resumed teasing her nipples, earning a slight gasp of surprise at the sudden sensation of his teeth grazing against the left one. He rested one of his hands on her inner thigh, squeezing lightly before moving it up painfully slowly. (Y/N) began spreading her legs open, letting her head tip back as her chest heaved with each breath. Spencer began kissing his way down her chest, leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses all down her stomach until he reached the waistband of her soft cotton panties.

He could feel her shudder ever so slightly and paused to look up at her face. He slowly hooked his fingers into the waistband while he gave her a look that said, is this okay?

Her voice came out as nothing but an exhale, breathing out the softest "yes, Spencer." His cock twitched at the barely audible sound while he began slowly pulling off the last piece of her clothing. Once they were fully off he grabbed a spare pillow and had her lift her hips so he could gently place it beneath her to lift her slightly. Once it was in place he wasted no time, leaning in and giving her dripping core a soft, gentle kiss. She gasped at the contact which was followed by a soft moan as she felt his tongue slip out and slowly slide from her entrance to her clit, collecting her nectar on his tongue before making soft circles around her swollen bud.

He kept his tongue focused there, teasing and tormenting her endlessly, while moving his fingers to her dripping center and teasing the opening by pushing just the very tip of his index finger inside and then slowly pulling it out. She whimpered a soft, "pl-please," above him, her fingers moving to tangle themselves into his soft brown locks. He smiled and hummed against her while pushing his finger into her slowly and pulling it out at the same pace as before, savoring the feeling of her soft pussy around his finger.

After a bit of that he added in a second finger and sped up the pace ever so slightly, earning a loud moan from the angel above him. His throbbing hardness ached in his briefs as he felt her begin to stiffen, her fingers gripping his hair tighter and tighter. He curled his fingers up in a sort of 'come hither' motion and heard her gasp out a soft, "I'm going to—Spencer can I—oh fuck yes," the final words crescendoing into a cry of pleasure as her thighs clenched next to his head and her pussy fluttered around his fingers.

While he slowed his tongue and removed his fingers from her, he found himself licking them clean and moaning softly at the taste. She tugged at his hair softly, pulling him up into a feverish and passionate kiss. Spencer quickly removed his briefs and pushed his cock up against her, the tip pressing against her entrance lightly. He broke the kiss to ask if she wanted to continue only for her to cut him off with a desperate nod and another deep kiss, her tongue sweeping around his mouth.

He needed no more encouragement, pushing into her with a sharp thrust. His vision flashed white for a brief second and he threw his head back, a loud moan ripping its way out of his chest. He kept himself buried into her up to the hilt, basking in how good it felt to have her wrapped around him. Her legs followed suit, moving up to wrap around his hips, locking in an x-shape behind him. Her heels gently pressed into his ass as he felt her start to move against him, trying to get some sort of friction.

Oh no. He seriously underestimated how she'd feel. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined how hot, how wet, how soft she'd feel around his hard cock. He had no idea how long he'd be able to last but he was intent on trying to make her feel as good as possible for as long as he could, so he began slowly dragging his cock out of her only to push it back in with a moderate amount of force.

Eventually the two of them fell into a sort of natural rhythm and Spencer's breathing became more and more ragged. (Y/N) could tell he was getting close by the way his muscles would ripple and tense beneath her hands as she ran them along his shoulder blades and she began whispering softly into his ear, "please, Spencer! I want you to fill me up so bad," earning desperate noises from his throat that he didn't know he was even capable of producing. Her pleas only grew more and more confident, until eventually she was begging loudly as his thrusts became disjointed and rough. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt himself teetering on the very edge, only to be pushed over by a broken moan of his name as her second orgasm overtook her.

His vision flashed white again, her name leaving his lips in a loud cry. White-hot pleasure coursed through his veins, and he pulled her into him until they both melted into one single being of shared ecstasy. When he finally came down from his high he looked down at the woman beneath him and he could swear he must have died and gone to heaven. Her fake, neck, and chest were flushed, her pupils were blown wide, and her chest heaved with heavy pants as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Hi," he whispered with a chuckle, brushing some of the sweaty hair off of her forehead. He held himself up on shaky arms as he pulled out of her, kissing her softly once more before he rolled over and attempted to catch his own breath.

"Hi," she turned towards him, propping her head up on one of her fists. She shot him a blissful, fucked-out smile before leaning in to kiss him yet again. He reached his arms out and wrapped them around her, pulling her in to lay against his chest.

"Let's lay here for a minute and then we can go shower and clean ourselves up," she hummed, drawing lazy circles on his chest with her fingertips. Spencer only nodded in response, before he tipped her chin up for yet another soft kiss.

"Okay, this is it," (Y/N) muttered to herself, taking a deep breath as she pushed open the door of the dingy diner that she had arranged to meet Warren at. She took a seat at a table near the exit, right in front of a massive window overlooking the street. He had no idea she had seen him in bed with another woman a couple of nights ago when he had promised he'd celebrate her birthday with her, so when he walked in it was clear he was expecting this to be a date. He was wearing a button-up shirt and jeans, and was approaching the table with a single pink carnation in hand. She tried to keep herself from noticeably making a face. She hated pink. And carnations.

Until two days ago, she would have been willing to overlook the fact that her boyfriend of 5 years had forgotten her favorite flower and color and just focused on the gesture of him bringing her a flower, but not anymore. Spencer had shown her what he thought of her worth, and now she knew that she deserved better than this. Better than Warren.

As he approached the table and reached out to hand her the carnation, she readied herself to deliver the speech she had been practicing all day yesterday when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and he was gone. She could have sworn she had seen Spencer walking down the street with a bouquet of blue flowers in hand (her favorite color), but maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"Hey, babydoll," Warren crooned, his voice grating across her eardrums and making the sea of rage within her chest boil. She hated being called 'babydoll' but never had the heart to say it to him. "Sorry we couldn't celebrate the other night, I ended up working late; we're rushing to finish up our research at the lab." His lie was delivered with such ease that if (Y/N) wasn't a profiler by trade (and also hadn't seen him balls deep in someone else not more than a mere 50 hours beforehand), she may have believed him. Instead, his words made her feel sick to her stomach, and she wanted nothing more than to hurry through this so she could leave and call Spencer to see if he'd like to spend the rest of the day with her.

"We need to talk," she responded in a stone cold voice while looking directly at him, but also right through him.

Spencer exited the florist's shop, bouquet of blooms in a myriad of blues in hand. The day was so beautiful he wouldn't mind walking the rest of the way like he had to get to the shop in the first place (truly he hated driving, and only did so when situations urgently called for it), but it had gotten fairly windy while he had been in the small corner shop, and so instead he opted to stand under the covered bus stop to try to preserve the literal delicate flowers he held in his hands. When he looked up and saw her.

(Y/N) was sitting in the window of a fairly run down diner, looking beautiful as ever. Spencer was about to get her attention with a wave when he saw Warren approach her, a single flower in hand, and when she reached out to take it from him it felt as though a ton of bricks fell from the sky and crashed onto Spencer. She was there reconciling with Warren. After everything he had put her through, and after everything Spencer had done to lift her spirits and show her that he loved her truly and deeply.

He dropped the bouquet of flowers and walked away, his head a swirling mess of anger, hurt, and confusion.

Monday

(Y/N) walked into the bullpen with her cup full of what was basically pure espresso with the slightest amount of milk and two teaspoons of sugar (which Garcia had dubbed the 'Latte of Champions') and looked around the room, hoping that Spencer, too, had arrived early. She spotted him sitting at his desk with a file open. She resisted the urge to full on skip as she headed over to greet him with her standard hug only to nearly fall on her face when Spencer quickly swiveled in his chair out of the way and stood, walking away and calling out a greeting to their colleague Derek Morgan, who had just entered as well. (Y/N) ignored the sting, figuring that the case file he was working on was important and that he had gone to their more experienced colleague for assistance.

She sat at her desk and began working on her own paperwork, waiting for her friend to return so she could ask him if he'd like to accompany her to the Doctor Who convention to which she had managed to snag some amazing 4-day passes. As the day passed she made attempt after attempt to speak with Spencer only for him to walk off suddenly as soon as she began every time. Each time, he had been pulled away by Morgan calling for his attention, almost as if they had arranged it so that any time she approached Spencer, Morgan hailed him. That couldn't be the case though. Could it?

Wednesday

Two days of this behavior had passed and (Y/N) figured that if by today she couldn't get him to talk to her long enough to ask about the convention that he'd just miss out and she'd ask Garcia to accompany her, instead. She finally managed to corner him, though, when Morgan had gone to lunch, leaving the two of them alone in the bullpen.

"H-Hey, Spencer," she began shakily, her anxiety eating away at her vocal cords so that her voice was nothing more than a soft whisper as she approached his desk. She hoped he had just been busy the last two days and not angry with her for some unspecified reason, although the more he avoided her the more that she feared that was exactly the case.

"I'm working," he muttered, sending a harsh blast of ice in (Y/N)'s direction without even looking up at her, "what do you want?"

"Uh— I, um— I-I w-was won—wondering," she attempted, her face flushing a deep shade of red as she stuttered, "uh— um, I was won—wondering if—"

He sighed deeply, his annoyance nearly palpable as looked at his watch and then finally up at her before sighing, "today, if possible."

Fuck. Fuck. She was about to burst into tears before she finally forced the sentence out. "Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtogotothedoctorwhoconventionwithme."

"I don't have a ticket," he replied flatly.

"I-I m-managed to get my ha-hands on a couple—" he cut her off before she could finish her sentence.

"I'm busy that day." She hadn't even mentioned which day. Or that it was four days. But he had already turned back to his work and had pointedly turned his chair away from her. His message was so clear it could have been written out in big red letters across the wall in front of her. 'I don't want to talk to you.' He suddenly closed the file he had been working on, turned around and stood up, and walked away while not even bothering to step around her, knocking into her and pushing her aside as he went.

She stood frozen by his desk as the shock rolled through her. Tears stung her eyes; the room felt hot and began to spin around her so she rushed in the general direction of where (she thought) the bathrooms were located, but she instead ended up running head first into Agent Gideon, who steadied her by gently grabbing her shoulders.

"Whoa, there," his eyes looked right into her soul as he asked, "is everything okay?"

She knew he already knew the answer was no, but lied anyway. "Yeah, just heading to the restroom." She averted her gaze so that it was locked on the ground.

"Then you'll wanna head in that direction," he responded, his voice even more gentle than his grip as he turned her around by her shoulders. "He'll come around, don't worry." Of course he knew. She didn't know if Spencer had talked to him, but even if he hadn't she wasn't surprised. Gideon's profiling skills were so out of this world that sometimes (Y/N) was convinced she worked with some sort of alien and not just a very wise, very talented human being.

After being literally pointed in the right direction she rushed off to the bathroom. The feeling as if she was going to vomit had gone away after her exchange with Gideon but the tears still began flowing as soon as she closed the door to the first stall.

Tuesday

JJ looked through the office, seeking out (Y/N) as Garcia and Elle trailed behind her. It had taken her a month after joining the BAU to come out for drinks with the team, but Spencer had seemed to pull her out of her shell immediately. Everyone in the office had seen her withdraw this past week and taken note of the fact that the two of them no longer ate together during their lunch. JJ pushed the door to the women's bathroom open and heard the sound of soft sobs followed by a gasp, as if someone was inhaling to hold their breath.

"(Y/N)? I was looking for you—Elle, Garcia, and I were going to try that new bistro down the street for lunch. Did you wanna come with?" JJ's voice was soft, tentative as she stopped outside of the stall. (Y/N) just sat still and held her breath, clearly hoping JJ would just walk out but instead she just knocked softly on the stall door. "I know you're in there—I can see your shoes. You don't have to talk about why you're upset if you don't want to, but just come to lunch with us?"

JJ loosed a breath as she heard the door unlatch before it slowly opened, and (Y/N)'s tear-stained cheeks peeked out. JJ reached into her purse and pulled out a small pack of tissues as (Y/N) stepped forward, murmuring a soft thanks as she reached for the pack and pulled one out, wiping her cheeks and then blowing her nose. They walked together to the sink so she could rise her face. After she dried it she kept her gaze locked on the ground but followed as JJ led her out into the bullpen where Garcia and Elle were waiting.

The four of them made their way to the bustling street and walked to the small bistro. Once they were all seated and looking at their respective menus, Garcia blurted out, "so what gives? You and Spencer are attached at the hip one moment and then last week you two suddenly just stopped talking to each other."

(Y/N)'s eyes fell to the table and began to swim with more tears. JJ and Elle shot a look her right as Garcia gasped, "oh, (Y/N) honey no don't cry! I'm sorry you don't have to answer that if you don't want to just please—oh god someone shut me up."

"What Penelope is trying to say is that we all noticed that something clearly went down between the two of you and we're worried," JJ smoothed over, reaching out to gently cover the crying agent's hand with her. "We just want to try to help you feel better," she added gently. So (Y/N) broke down and told them everything, starting with Spencer driving to pick her up from outside of Warren's apartment.

"I'm gonna kill the skinny little bastard," Garcia fumed from her seat as (Y/N) finished explaining everything that had happened since then.

"I'm sure there was some miscommunication. He's an idiot, obviously, but Spence isn't the kind to just use them and lose them," JJ murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. She'd get to the bottom of this.

JJ approached where Spencer and Derek stood, conversing in hushed tones. When she reached them she grabbed him by the elbow and spat out, "come with me, Reid." She ushered him into Garcia's office where she and Elle yet again stood waiting for JJ while he protested that he was in the middle of a conversation. When she got him into the small, warm room, she had him sit in Penelope's chair and shut the door, moving around him to stand next to the other two and crossed her arms.

"Okay, Spence. What the hell has gotten into you recently?" She demanded, staring at him and chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"What are you talking about, JJ?" He looked up at the three women in front of him and saw them all glaring at him in the same way.

"We all know you're a genius, doctor Reid, so don't bother trying to play dumb," Garcia quipped, her tone uncharacteristically cold as she glared daggers at the man in her chair. "How could you just use (Y/N) and then dump her like that? The poor girl has been in shreds for the past week and a half!"

"Oh, that's what she told you I did, is it?" Spencer retorted, anger suddenly flaring in his chest. He looked between the three of them as they stood in front of him and stood up, making to leave the office.

Elle blocked his path and said, "not in those exact words. She told us the lengths you went to to seduce her, and then once it was successful you started ignoring her after you got what you wanted from her it seems."

Spencer sat back down and let out a bitter laugh, "why would I bother? After everything I did to show her how much she meant to me, how much I cared for her, she went crawling back to Warren to reconcile. I saw them myself on a date in a run down diner."

"Reconcile?" JJ rolled her eyes and slapped her palm to her forehead, "Spence you're supposed to be a profiler, how could you be this stupid?" Spencer opened his mouth to respond but before he could, JJ explained, "she was breaking up with him, you idiot. That's what you saw. She wanted to do so in a public place so she could make a quick escape if he tried to make a scene."

Spencer froze, piecing everything together in his head, before his eyes went wide and his face paled. "Oh god," he breathed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Excuse me," he muttered, looking down at the ground as he stood and exited the office, this time unobstructed. As he entered the bullpen his eyes scanned the room, bustling as everyone packed up their stuff to go home for the evening. He couldn't see (Y/M) until he looked at the elevators and saw her waiting in front of them.

"(Y/N)! Wait for me," he called out, nearly falling flat on his face as he sprinted over to her. He caught up to where she was just as the elevator arrived and he followed her in, panting and thinking yet again to himself that he needed to really start up some sort of cardio routine.

As he met her eyes he felt his chest crack slightly. Looking up at him were the same heartbroken eyes he saw the night he went to pick her up from Warren's place, and guilt washed over him at the realization that this time it was he who was responsible for the sorrow in her eyes. "C-can we talk?" He panted, still struggling to catch his breath. She didn't make a silly remark at how quickly he ran to reach her this time. Instead, she just nodded before looking back at the ground and swallowing.

"I-I'm so sorry for how I've been acting towards you the past week and a half," he said, his breathing finally returning to a normal rhythm. "I-I had seen you with Warren in that diner after we had spent the two days together and I saw him hand you a carnation and I thought you were there to reconcile with him and I was so-so hurt and confused and I know that doesn't excuse any of my behavior towards you but please just let me take you to dinner to make up for it if that's oka—" he was cut off by a pair of soft, small hands being paced on his cheeks and a pair of soft lips—her lips, meeting his.

"You're cute when you ramble," she smiled as she pulled away from him. "I'm sorry you felt that way, I should have told you what my plans were to avoid all of this."

"Well if I had just approached you about the issue like an adult none of this would have been a problem," he responded breathlessly before the elevator doors dinged and opened back up to a shocked looking Agent Morgan, revealing that they hadn't actually moved.

"Oops, forgot to hit the floor I needed to go to," (Y/N) laughs, her cheeks turning a soft pink color.

"That actually works out because I kind of hurried to catch up with you and left all of my stuff at my desk," Spencer admitted, his own cheeks flushing a bit. He stepped out of the elevator and Morgan stepped back on. As the doors closed (Y/N) called to him, "I'll wait for you downstairs so we can go get dinner!"

He smiled to himself as he walked over to his desk, gathering his things and hurrying to get back to the elevators so he could take the girl of his dreams out for a second date.

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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twstafterdark · 2 months ago

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Kisses

Author's note: Ever wondered how he kisses you?

Content: established relationship | headcanons | suggestive but lowkey horny if you read between the lines

Malleus Draconia

Kisses to Malleus are like pecks on the cheek, endearments on the forehead, and light sniffles on locks of hair. Such gifts were imparted by Lilia, as the fae grew to the present day, to remind him that he was loved and cared for. These were then transferred as gifts to Sebek and Silver from when they were children, from Malleus and Lilia, to which the same sentiment was shared so they wouldn’t be afraid to love.

Kisses, for Malleus, meant imparting something more than familial love; love that went beyond his familial ties with Lilia, Silver, and Sebek, but a profound craving of you that consumed his very being. He thought of how to approach you on the topic of love, watching your lips part as you spoke.

He thought of how to kiss you - should he steal your breath away with a singular kiss, or should he approach you softly, letting your lips naturally meet into a gentle lock? Such thought occupied the fae’s mind as he glimpsed your eager smile.

He sweeps you off your feet, watching moonlight bathe your silhouette with bright light. He indulges himself to you, hungrily seeking your taste with his forked tongue. You let out a surprised gasp, opening your mouth slightly ajar for him to take in every corner of your mouth.

He takes pleasure in your expression, his hand itching downwards to your waist to hold you close. You shiver in his arms, trying to catch up with his pace. Yet, he gives pauses, pressing his forehead against yours as he whispers words that can only be heard by you: “Child of man, may I partake in you for tonight?”

Floyd Leech

Floyd watches your figure reading a book, woefully thinking to himself on what to do to assuage his boredom. Surely, he can make do with himself and read a book too, but the boy had other ideas. “Nee, nee, [Reader]? Wanna try kissing?”

Such a question startled you - what was Floyd doing with this? You perk an eyebrow to your partner, who merely gives you a toothy grin. Did he want to speed things up in your relationship, or was he simply pulling your leg? You put down your book, hoping for the latter.

Entertaining Floyd being your forte, you consent to his whims, anticipating a light kiss on your lips. What you got instead was a kiss that felt like no other - one that was surprisingly gentle yet dominating, languid and steady. You feel a hand creep on your back as if to keep you steady and close to Floyd’s frame.

You could feel yourself shivering from his kiss, your hands wandering to his shoulders. Floyd was taking control of the kiss, overwhelming you sweetly with a move you didn’t expect him to do. He pushes you onto the bed, entrapping your attention to the kiss as he lets his hands wander down your body.

Heat rushes up your cheeks and ears as you notice the palpable tension between you and your lover. Dull copper and graphite stare at you, a toothy grin a haunting image of delight. “[reader], is today okay?” He asks, playful words dancing at his lips.

Rook Hunt

Rook was often one to give you kisses, whether it be kisses on the back of the hand or playful air ones that he’d send your way when you’d pass him by. He knew how to press your buttons, flustering you in the process when he’d impart you such gifts.

At times, you’d ponder to yourself on how to reciprocate his love, thinking on what ways you can prove that you also love him back. Finally, you came to an ultimatum: giving him a kiss back.

You thought to yourself, thinking that such a gesture would be unoriginal, but you perished the thought. This was you returning the favor to Rook, where he had to give you so much love, and in return, since you deemed it appropriate, was a kiss.

Rook gives pause, feeling your lips land on his. Delight could best describe the warm sensation permeating throughout Rook - why his beloved had given him a kiss! Sure, you had taken him by surprise with such a gesture, but he was more than happy to reciprocate it nonetheless.

He laces his fingers with yours, his other hand taking you by the small of your back as if he were assuming a waltz position and joining your lips to a dance of passion. He lets himself go to your pace, watching your reaction as he lets a tease or two into the kiss. Only then, do you lose breath, bringing forth a sliver of spittle to spill from your lips.

#twst x reader #twst rook #twst floyd #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #twisted wonderland floyd #twisted wonderland rook #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut

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shonen-brainrot · 1 year ago

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Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who revels in the whirlwind of our past relationship, now faces the aftermath of your departure after you decided to cut him off. Fueled by a fiery concoction of rage and heartbreak, he struts into a darker, more sinister version of himself, leaving reverberations of chaos in every damn corridor of his existence.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who'll be showing up uninvited at your new home because he heard you were moving on with someone new, the sting of jealousy evident in his actions.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who'll be engaging in heated arguments and raising his voice out of sheer jealousy anytime he sees you happy. "You think you can just walk away and I'll let you? I'll make sure every step you take is a reminder of what you left behind!"

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who will apologize for screaming at you with a warm hug after yet another argument he caused.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, for whom the training becomes a way of releasing his pent-up anger at himself, which sometimes leads to him overdoing it and pulling something or straining a muscle, but he refuses to go to the medbay in his agency because he knows you might be there.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who can't get used to sleeping alone at night. For years you had always been there with him, and now that you aren't, the silence and the loneliness are deafening. He's still intoxicated by the memories of you, relentlessly holding onto the past and struggling to move on.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who somehow finesses you into going out for a drink one evening when your new boyfriend is off doing whatever at the delegation, all in the name of talking and setting things straight. Surprisingly, you end up having a blast, reminiscent of the good old times, and, of course, you both get completely wasted. With the night still young, you both decide to hit the dancefloor.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, with his hands shamelessly exploring every inch of your body as you grind your ass against his crotch, completely oblivious to the impact it's having on him. Katsuki grunts throatily into your ear, a vice-like grip on your hip and waist, because subtlety was never his damn forte.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, whose brain's on the fritz, declares that it's high time for you to saunter your way back home. In the taxi he commandeers, he lounges on the back seat like he owns the place, a solid arm draped around your shoulders as your head lazily lolls on the crook of his neck. Amidst giggles and banter, you reminisce about the good old times.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, his other hand making a bold move between your thighs. Mentally thanking the universe for your choice of a short dress, he smirks as his rough fingers skillfully push aside the fabric of your panties to rub your folds slowly. You, under the influence, offer no objection. A wicked grin plays on his lips as he relishes the sensation of your wetness slowly covering his fingertips, and you can't help but let out an anticipatory gasp.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who, the moment you two step into your swanky new house, wastes no time pinning you against the nearest wall. He swiftly tugs your panties down your legs, expertly wrapping your leg around his hip. With a hand that's practically shaking, he skillfully works on unbuckling his pants.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who drives his cock into you, evoking a gasp from your parted lips. He's relentless, kissing and nibbling on your exposed neck, growling with satisfaction at the wetness and warmth of your ever tight pussy is enveloping his throbbing member.

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who's railing you, going all in with a pace that's as fast and brutal as a damn hurricane. He has your thighs shaking as you scream his name. Your pussy clenches around his cock, practically begging for every drop of his cum, and he's more than willing to oblige, growling in your ear, "Yeah, bitch, just like that, taking my cock so well, just like back when I was your boyfriend. You miss my cock, hmm? Yeah, of course you do, tsch!"

Ex boyfriend!Bakugo, who unleashes a guttural growl like an animal as he finishes inside you, emptying his balls deep in your cunt until the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix again and again. Katsuki's seed spurts as the man kisses you with a hunger, sucking on your tongue. "I'll fucking make you mine again, doll."

#ru writes 🍬#mha headcanons #bakugo headcanons #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader smut #mha smut #bakugo x you #bakugou smut #bnha smut #anime smut #bakugo #bakugo x y/n

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nostalgiclittlespace · 3 months ago

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🍂Fall Activities for Regressors!🍂

Go to the apple orchard

Go to the pumpkin patch

Take a walk amongst the fall trees

Rake and jump in fallen leaves

Design a jackolantern

Make a hand-turkey

Bake fall treats

Make a Halloween costume with things you already have on hand

Make a small burrow for your stuffies with blankets, drawers, etc—they might need a place to hibernate when the winter comes!

Watch cozy movies

Play trick or treating with your toys; you can set up their ‘houses’ around your room by putting them in drawers, closets, etc. and then leaving a small treat to collect with each one. This can be a scavenger hunt too if you have someone set it up for you

Make a blanket and pillow fort

Design Halloween costumes for your toys

Make a leaf collection or collage. See how many unique ones you can find!

Try a new hot drink, such as tea, coffee, cider, pumpkin juice, etc that you’ve never had before

Make a list of your favorite fall things and sensations, one for each sense. (Touch, smell, taste, sound, sight)

Watch a thanksgiving parade, or make one with your toys. What floats and outfits and flags will they have? (to any my international friends, note this one is namely for American Thanksgiving, which is in November)

Keep your eye out for Black Friday deals on toys!

#sfw interaction only #sfw agere #sfw regression #age regressor #agere blog #age regression caregiver #age regression community #agere little #little space #agere community #fall agere #fall #fall vibes #halloween #trick or treat #thanksgiving #fall holidays

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buzznolimit · 7 months ago

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Sports : découvrez des vidéos à sensations fortes sur Buzz No Limit

Sur Buzz No Limit, regardez des vidéos de sports extrêmes comme le surf, le VTT et le snowboard. Compatible avec les ordinateurs, les tablettes et les smartphones, la plateforme vous permet de suivre vos activités préférées où que vous soyez.

#buzz no limit #sports #sensations fortes

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hmslusitania · 6 months ago

Note

Ask meme! For TimKon, either 17. “Please stay.” or 34. “When did you know for sure?”

May I offer you: an angst with a happy ending? (who am I kidding; it's you, of course I can)

“When did you know?” Kon asks, staring out well past the horizon. Tim thinks that surely, he must see it, must be able to tell, he’s got fucking super vision of various sorts, but… But he sounds so dejected about it. Like he… like he hadn’t been able to tell. “For sure, I mean, when did you figure it out?”

“Um,” Tim says, and picks up a handful of sand on this very not-at-all real version of Kon’s favourite beach in Hawaii. “Last… night.”

Kon’s face burns bright red and Tim can’t really look at him anymore.

It all feels too real, even though this place isn’t anything of the sort.

And he’s pretty sure that includes Kon.

It had been a smart plan, Tim can tip his hat at the villain du jour for that, at least metaphorically. Trap Tim in a simulated reality, but instead of making it somewhere he knows inside and out, like Gotham, like Happy Harbour, they’d programmed him into a place he only knows in story and rumour. Tim wouldn’t really have any way of determining if there were differences between the real Hawaii the real Kon’s been talking about for as long as Tim’s known him, and this fake, simulation of it. And the programmers had done a pretty perfect job with Kon, too, except for the parts where he can’t tell that this whole place is a simulation, and the part where…

“My Kon, I mean the one who’s not a computer programme, because, like, he’s not mine, mine,” Tim starts. “He’s not… y’know. In love with me.”

Kon is silent for a minute, just staring out at the water and at the small waves lapping steadily higher up the beach while the sun rises. Tim would find this whole conversation a lot less excruciating if computer!Kon was wearing more than boxers with the House of El logo on the crotch, but, well, this simulation was designed to trap and torture him, so he’s not.

“I don’t feel like a computer simulation,” Kon says finally, and buries his toes in the sand like he’s making a point of feeling the sensations. “I remember — I remember meeting you when you were still Robin and I didn’t know who I was beyond Superman’s replacement, and I remember Bart, and Young Justice, and Cassie, and the Teen Titans, and dying and—”

“They probably built you off a brain scan of the real Kon,” Tim says. Tact and gentleness have never been his fortes but, fuck he tries this time.

“Right, and just, like, tweaked my memories so that I can remember being in love with you half that time, and the entire time I was lost in Gemworld, and—”

“Yeah, I guess they must’ve,” Tim says, even though it makes him want to puke. “This place is too… it’s too perfect. You’re too perfect.”

Kon scoffs, and makes a choked off noise that’s all too familiar after last night and Tim flushes with shame that he knows what Kon sounds like now. The thing is, it’s a very, very good simulation, and this isn’t knowledge Tim should have, because out in the real world, Kon doesn’t want to share that information with him. It’s none of Tim’s business, no matter how desperately he wants it to be.

“Nice to know I’m apparently good enough in bed to convince you it’s all too good to be true,” Kon says, with forced bravado.

Tim swallows, because that assessment isn’t untrue, but it’s only part of the story. “Also I think my biometrics must’ve spiked high enough to temporarily overload the system, because a bird clipped through our room while we were, uh…”

“Oh,” Kon says, blushing even harder. “So, um, now that you know this is fake, does that mean you’re going to escape?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. He swallows. “I just have to crash the programme, make it generate something so insanely huge its processing power can’t keep up.”

“Oh, right, just that,” Kon says. He very gamely swallows, and because he’s built on a very convincing facsimile of Tim’s real Kon, he stands up and nods. “So what do you need me to do?”

Tim is not surprised when the explosion they trigger in the simulation tips him out of it’s destabilising pixelated mess into a sketchy futuristic lab. Spaceship? Probably spaceship by the black starfield outside the windows.

He is surprised when his own exit from the gel couch matrix situation is echoed by someone else in another matching chair thing behind him.

He grabs for any kind of weapon available and rounds the central structure, ready to strike, only to find himself face to face with—

“Kon?” he demands. “You’re here too?”

Kon defuses the heat vision that had been starting to build behind his eyes, and then just stares at Tim, blushing a violent red like the heat vision had dispersed through his cheeks.

“Of course he is here too,” an annoyed voice that gives major evil scientist vibes says over the PA. “The simulation traps work best when there are two parties within them to reinforce the shared folie à deux!”

“Sh-shared?” Kon asks.

“Both of us were in the same—” Tim starts, and he understands Kon’s blush better now because he can feel his own viciously taking over his face.

“You thought I was a simulation,” Kon says, floating out of his matrix plug in chair to loom over Tim even taller than he usually is.

“You’re in lo—” Tim starts, but their captor’s voice crackles over the PA system again.

“Yes, yes, teenaged angst. You may continue your argument once my assistants have placed you back in your simulation!”

“We’re twenty-one, actually,” Tim corrects. “And you can—”

He means to tell the disembodied voice exactly where he can expect Tim’s bo staff (as soon as he finds it in one of the cargo pods here in this space station situation they’ve got going on) but Kon cuts him off by pulling Tim’s face into his hands and kissing him.

No birds clip through the walls this time, and the sensation of Kon’s TTK sweeping over him, like it’s not enough to just be touching Tim with his hands, like he has to touch all of him at once, is one that Tim hadn’t been able to fully conjure up out of his imagination. It’s different enough that Tim actually forgets for a second that they’re imprisoned on a space station and have been under for god knows how long, and he seriously considers simply climbing Kon like a tree right then and there to get the actual physical details mapped out.

“I can’t believe you thought my love confession was a simulation,” Kon murmurs against Tim’s lips.

Tim hums and kisses him again. Really, actually kisses Kon. Who really, actually wants to kiss him, too. “I meant it when I said you’re too good to be true.”

“Good thing we’re in a really shitty situation we need to figure our way out of if we want to get back to earth so I can show you the real version of that beach,” Kon says. “Because that part feels pretty on par.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, and sighs. He can hear the distant thuds of whatever sorts of robocop automata their captor has coming towards them now, and this fight’s gonna kinda suck, he thinks. At least there will be one hell of a reward for making it through to the other side. “Ready to fight for our lives?”

“With you?” Kon asks, and can’t help himself but to pull Tim in for one more kiss. “Always.”

#timkon #tim drake #kon-el #conner kent #dc #the ghost ship scribbles

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moonlight-prose · 4 months ago

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RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 07. BENEATH THE STAINS OF TIME

a/n: wow i stalled on writing this chapter until the last minute. i think i really just didn't want to put them through this, but also i love the angst so it's an internal war i fought with myself. this is the pinnacle of the entire series. the one thing i plotted when i first came up with the story. so grab your tissues, a blanket, and a comfort fic for afterwards. because i am sorry for what's about to happen.

summary: he never liked the variant from your universe; the be all end all hero. but in the depths of anger and pain, logan howlett is forced to make a choice his variant self once made. save your soul and the people you might harm...or save the you he loves.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: DARK THEMES AHEAD BE WARNED, angst, pain, ptsd, talk of drowning, insanity, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: death, grief, violence, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, deadpool & wolverine energy, laura kinney has enetered the chat y'all, father daughter bonding, wade wilson's commentary, sacrifice, time.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He couldn't breathe.

Logan had been underwater before, felt the press of the ocean against his chest and struggled for oxygen. Battling for breath, no matter how small. He understood what it felt like to drown—sink to the bottom and never get up. His adamantium skeleton had been the cause of him drowning far too many times in his life; until he'd grown accustomed to the sensation of fighting for air.

This felt magnified. As if he'd been at the bottom of the Atlantic—straight down the Mariana Trench—for centuries.

Was this how it felt to be buried alive? To find yourself in a grave six feet deep with no way of clawing to the surface.

He never thought he'd understand the sensation that kept him up at night; the prospect of death was too little a threat for him to actually worry about. Unimportant to a man who had spent two centuries of his life barely finding any meaning to it. After all, what was the fucking point when he wound up right back here. In the shallow end of his grave, waiting to lay down and exhale his final breath.

Time fell back into place the moment you left. Fortuna. Someone he never thought would find him here; now brought him to his knees with one simple act.

There was misery in love. He knew this the moment he fell in his own universe. He understood the cost of what might come from you using your powers without restrictions; what Charles told you. Yet he fell anyway. He allowed his heart to open up and give you leeway into the broken pieces of his mind—a part of himself he chose to ignore.

He should have fucking known better than to repeat history here.

He should have ignored the strings that bound his heart to yours and left you alone.

He should have, he should have, he should have...

But he didn't.

Now he bore the brunt of consequences he knew would one day show up.

Your apartment door slammed open, nearly getting torn off the hinges as a familiar echo of heavy boots thumped across the hardwood floor. He felt his spine tense where he still knelt—hands clutching the pieces of your shattered mug. Fortuna wouldn't be returning. He knew her tricks, knew her endgame, and coming back to the scene of disaster was never her forte.

The scent of vanilla and Ambrose filled his senses, stinging his nose, as a familiar dark browned girl rushed to his aid. A backpack hit the ground, sunglasses discarded on the counter, as his variant's daughter clutched his hands in hers. He couldn't bring himself to look at her. Not when he broke right there in a place that held such happiness.

She seemed to understand. Peeling the porcelain out of his palms and placing it back on the table; finding what other shards she could to put them all together. The silence felt safe. Familiar.

Logan found himself suddenly thankful for the variant that once existed in her world. She could see the cues before they even washed across his face; the bitter grief that her father once went through. He knew from when he met her in the Void, he couldn't be that person for her. But when she looked at him like that—a daughter willing to fight alongside her father—he hoped that maybe...he could.

"Althea called me," she said softly, hands wrapped around his wrists. "Whoever she is attacked Wade's place first."

His head rose, anger trickling in his chest as Laura's brown eyes mirrored his own. "She's..."

"I know," she muttered, pulling him to his feet. "Wade filled me in."

"Is he-"

"Takes a lot more than that to kill a Deadpool." She grimly kicked shattered glass to the side, shoving it to a corner as he staggered to his full height. He wore a neutral expression—somber even. But Laura could see the pain in his eyes; an exact replica of the older man she once clung to as a child—begging him to live for her sake. "He sounded pissed. Althea hung up before he could fill me in on the gory details."

"Fortuna," he sighed, eyes fixed on the demolished window. He'd have to help you fix it after all was said and done—after he apologized for dragging you into a mess that was never meant to touch you. "She found me."

Laura's nose scrunched, brows furrowed. "You're ex? I thought she could control time, not...multiverses."

"Charles's theory was that she wasn't exactly controlling time. More like what made up the universe as a whole."

She nodded. "Time included."

"Time included," he repeated. "I didn't think she'd...get this bad."

"You left her behind," she stated, rummaging in your fridge for something to drink. "I guess a part of me can understand her anger."

He knew she wasn't talking about him, but rather the man she once looked up to. Nonetheless the words still stung the same.

In a different world Logan could picture her here on nights not spent at the mansion studying and training. He could see you bonding with Laura—teaching her the history of the X-Men. Showing her the love of a mother she never had.

The image punched him in the chest until his breath became nonexistent and suddenly...he was drowning again. A choked noise echoed in the back of his throat. Laura's head snapped in his direction with concern etched across her face. Any other day he'd loathe that look, but tonight he couldn't dig his way out fast enough to care.

The soda can she tossed his way nearly smacked him in the head; effectively snapping him out of whatever fucking stupor his own mind was intent on trapping him in. He caught it, breath rushing back to his lungs, and gulped down the shitty sugary crap his own kid loved.

"That's fuckin' disgusting," he bit out, watching her smile into her own can.

"I like it."

He winced as the taste hit the back of his throat. "You're a kid. You'll grow out of it."

"You've said that before Dad. And I'm not a kid-" She tensed as the word left her mouth. The title that was never meant to fall upon his shoulders; never supposed to tie him to another person.

Something hesitant flashed in her eyes, mouth now a thin line as she waited for his inevitable reaction to her slip up. The words he uttered beside the fire no doubt on the tip of his tongue: Whoever you think I am...you got the wrong guy. But standing there, watching his kid hold hope in her eyes that he might say something different this time, made him finally understand what the fucking point was.

He didn't want to be the wrong guy.

He just wanted to be what she needed. What you needed.

"No," he sighed, lips curling into a smile that said enough. You can call me Dad. You can give me that responsibility and know I'll fight like hell to make sure I live up to his legacy. "I guess you're not."

They allowed the silence to sit in their chest for a brief moment. A moment of understanding passed in their grim smiles that held so much more. He'd tell it all to her one day. How he once longed for a life exactly like this, for a kid of his own. How he never believed himself worthy of the title Dad. How he'd lay down his entire being if she asked it of him.

Today though, they shed the titles of father and daughter and donned one they knew all too well. Wolverine. Ironic that the one thing he loathed would one day be given to a girl who wielded it with pride.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, pushing off the counter and reaching for her bag.

"Find her."

"And when you do?"

His heart paused as the realization of what was to come began to reenter his mind. Fortuna had you captive, dangling you on a string in the hopes he would latch on to rescue the person who held his heart. Logan felt the urge to leap. Save you from the clutches of someone willing to kill you just to bring him unimaginable pain.

To get even for what he couldn't do that night.

But he also knew...Fortuna didn't deserve what happened. The humans destroyed what the X-Men built. They were the cause of everything that occurred since he left. He couldn't let their trauma bring down the woman he once loved. Even if she was so adamant on watching him give over his life for a version of her not yet broken by unimaginable pain.

"I don't fuckin' know," he admitted.

She took another sip, crushed the can in her palm and tossed it to the bin in the corner of your kitchen. "Wade's gonna want to speak to you. Find out what happened here."

He nodded. "You got everythin'?"

"I'm set."

"You know you don't have to do this kid. It's not your fight."

Her eyes narrowed, the firm set of her mouth so much like his own. She was a fucking mirror he never thought he'd have; showing him pieces of himself he once thought too ugly to be seen. Yet they were the reason she shined so bright. He could see the stubbornness ingrained into her very own DNA. A testament to his own unwillingness to let things go; to take on the battle for someone else as long as they didn't get hurt.

So much like him. So identical.

He felt a streak of fear run down his spine at that thought alone. She'd have to suffer for it. Just as he did. But goddammit if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to save her from the pain of bearing the title Wolverine.

"You love her," she stated plainly, as if nothing else mattered in this world but those three words. "Which means she's my family. We protect our own."

She didn't give him a chance to respond, scooping up her sunglasses and propping them on her nose with a huff. Maybe she didn't notice how he stood there, eyes wide as something pricked his heart. Maybe she ignored it for his sake—so uncomfortable with being vulnerable like him. But either way he couldn't deny the fact that stared right at him in big shiny letters.

She was his daughter. Through and through.

"She took my arms!" Wade's voice echoed down the hallway, giving Logan pause as Laura took the lead. "Do you know how petty that is? When I find that Scarlet Witch carbon copy I'm gonna shove my katana down her throat as I dance to dub-step-"

"Hi Wade," Laura said, cutting him off from what was about to be an impressive rant.

He spun, baby arms swinging limply at his side. "Oh good. The clone of the man I actually need. Tell me, did you find your father cause mommy has to speak to him."

Logan took that chance to follow her through the open door. His eyes took in the destruction of a once nice living room. Burn marks stretched from floor to ceiling in multiple places where Fortuna's whip had made contact. He spotted two limbs in a pile by the couch, blood pooling on the carpet as Wade steamed with enough fury to sharpen his senses.

She’d come here first looking for him. Which means she somehow knew exactly where to find him.

"Peanut!" he shouted, eyes narrowed and baby fists clenched. "Did you have a nice morning? Get some good head? Because I was attacked by the long lost daughter of Princess Diana."

Laura's head cocked to the side, brows furrowed. "Diana Prince."

"Whatever!"

"Wade." His greeting could have been better. Though he was never one for handing out sympathy to the nearest victim.

Wade ceremoniously collapsed to the floor on his back, thumping his head against the carpet as Logan stepped further into the room. The window was ripped clean out of the wall, glass scattered everywhere which showed how Fortuna found out about her variant self. Logan could practically see the fight happen in the present time.

It made his stomach sour—his heart a rapid beat against his chest.

"How long will it take for those to finish?" He gestured to the arms that currently pointed two middle fingers in his direction.

"Couple hours. Why do you ask? Want a handy?"

"Ew," Laura sighed. "I'm gonna find some food. Want anything?" When Logan shook his head, she quickly dipped back out into the hallway, leaving him to deal with the wallowing lump on the floor.

He sighed, stepped over Wade and grabbed him. "Alright c'mon."

"I'm half the man I used to be. Literally. She took the only good thing I had until Ness got back." The limp wave of small hands in his face had Logan cringing back.

"So she came here first then."

Wade barked out a laugh. "Oh you mean your ex? Sabrina the teenage BITCH!"

Logan huffed, dragged him to the couch that had long chunks ripped out of the fabric. "She's a lot older than you think mouth."

"Sorry my bad. We didn't exchange your preferred blowjob tips and trade secrets about you when she was cutting off my arms!" The roll of his eyes was involuntary, barely there, but Wade latched onto it like a dog with a bone. "Did you just-"

He turned his head, exasperation bleeding into the air. "Did he just roll his eyes at me?"

The room went still as the gears in Logan's head began to turn. The fear was now palpable enough for Wade to figure out exactly what was happening. He sat up straight, gaze latched onto the apartment across the street. The wall gaped like a wound, leaving a trail of ghastliness in its wake. Wade was surprised to see minimal bloodshed, merely the path of destruction left by a being with too much power, but the inkling of you in pain made his stomach churn.

The amount of information he extracted out of Fortuna was slim to none, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what she went after once she was done wreaking havoc in his home.

"Logan," he started, anger trickling into his heart. "Where is sweet angel?"

He sagged into the couch—grief cutting into his chest as images of your smiling face plagued his mind. No answer would have been good enough to explain what happened. His face stricken with despair—the way he clutched his hands into fists on his knees—told Wade everything he needed to know.

Fortuna wasn't here to only kill Logan. Why dismantle one life when she could bring an end to the memory of Logan Howlett in this universe too? She'd take all of them down with her if it meant enacting her revenge.

Starting with you.

"No," he breathed.

"I don't know where they would have-" He bit down on the inside of his cheek until copper burst on his tongue. "Where they'd be."

The longer he sat there, the more he felt himself sink into the despondent pit in his mind. Yet no matter how he struggled to claw at the ground, it continued to drag him in earnest. The sharp peal of laughter—of taunting words that set his teeth on edge—mimicked the sound of Fortuna.

He wanted to scream, but who would be there to listen? Who would be there to drag him from the darkness now that you were gone?

A bag was tossed to the couch, barely breaking through the murkiness in his own mind. Laura dragged the only working chair in the kitchen closer to the couch. The snap and hiss of a Coke being opened filled the dire silence. Giving Logan something to latch onto. He might tell her one day how being near her settled the raging storm in his head; the calm he could never quite acquire somehow flowing through her with ease.

He had people to help him find you; people who cared for your well being.

People who would die to bring you home.

There would be no end for them where you weren't safe. Where they didn't offer themselves up on your behalf. You were the best of them. It certainly wasn’t your fault you fell in love with a man too twisted and mangled by pain to offer you even the illusion of peace.

"I know someone who might be able to help," she said, chewing thoughtfully on a granola bar. "You may not like it."

Wade's sigh was deafening, his body flopping back onto the couch with a groan. "We are not dragging McAvoy into this. Not when Stewart is better drama wise."

She took another bite, distant gaze stuck to a busted picture frame of Wade and Vanessa on an anniversary of some sorts. Wade wore red, Vanessa wore black. They resembled a couple others might look up to. Logan used to stare at it often in his fitful nights of sleep. More so when you wandered into his life; thoughts of a future tantalizingly close to the tips of his fingers.

He wanted that with you. A life worth more than every battle he fought, every scar that didn't stick. All the fucked up things he did evaporated like steam floating off water the second he met your eyes.

You and your honey-like smile; your hand a soft yet sturdy grip in his.

"Is your universe similar to this one?" Laura inquired, back in the moment as her mind reeled with possibilities.

"Somewhat."

"In what way?"

"Places and people still exist. It's pieces of time that are different. History isn't the same here." He could recall you begging him to explain his past. What wars he fought in, what happened for him to get to this point. Yet whatever you recorded wouldn't match the history books housed in your library.

Laura nodded, downing the last of her soda. "So places. Anywhere special she might have gone that might mean something to you?"

His mind fell to the one place even he couldn’t approach. The space that housed so many memories—so much agony. But going back there would mean facing the other X-Men and Fortuna wasn't stupid enough to risk falling into that trap.

"The mansion is too risky."

He thought back to your shared room. The walls that once flickered blue with Fortuna's power as he held her through the nightmares. He thought of a small two story farmhouse that sat on the outskirts of the property line. A home Charles offered. One he intended to rebuild with the promise of holding onto a love so permanent.

His heart dropped, laying in the base of his stomach like a stone he never intended to swallow. "I know where they are."

Wade perked up, arms an inch longer than before. "Mind sharing with the class peanut?"

Logan couldn't hear him over the noise in his head; the knowledge that Fortuna would pull such a heinous act of revenge. Taking you to the place he promised her. It made for the perfect ending to her already tragic story. Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to rip his claws into the couch below, or charge out the door with no plan.

He settled for heading to the hall closet, yanking the door open with more force than intended. It slammed against the wall as he tugged free a black unlabeled duffle bag from the top shelf. After the battle to save Wade's universe, he didn't think he would need this old yellow suit anymore. At the time he was tempted to throw it out and forget it existed.

He eventually came to his senses.

Salvaging what he could and rebuilding small pieces in case the time came formed an amalgamation of what once resembled an X-Men suit. His fingers traced the silver X attached to the belt. The symbol that once held so much hope. Fortuna wore the same. A tie that kept them forever bound; forever each other's equal even in a different universe.

"You're going after her," Laura said.

"Of course he is." Wade stumbled to his feet. "We're finally getting that family road trip."

"Would now be the wrong time to say Avenger's Assemble? Or should we wait for the third act battle sequence?"

Logan felt the gaping maw of his heart grow the longer you were apart from him. An itch formed beneath his skin. The source was indeterminable but he knew what caused it to start. His entire being called out to you, begged you to survive until he managed to carry you to safety. Yet the biting horror of reality began to settle like a frozen chill in his veins.

What if he finally destroyed the only good thing about his life?

What if he was too late?

What if...you didn't survive?

You couldn't differentiate night from day anymore. After the first two hours, you were left with a stabbing pain in the side of your head—turning your vision blurry. After what felt like five or six (or perhaps eight) you gave up on trying to keep count. The veins were prominent against your hands as blood steadily dripped to the floor.

A pool of crimson agony that you could practically see yourself in.

If you opened your eyes, would you see the broken parts of a soul she seemed intent on dragging out? Would they match hers? The sound of her gravel lilted voice murmured in the corner of the room where she waited. A stoic figure of patience. Seeking penance for the harm caused to someone so innocent.

You both knew this was a fight meant for Logan. You knew only one of them walked away from whatever age old hatred still burned bright enough to burn the skin off your body.

That didn't stop you from wishing you could shoulder the burden for him. The words collateral damage didn't mean anything to you before. Merely things spouted to harm your already vulnerable and emotional state. But the longer you gave them time to sink in, the more you accepted her veracity. You would cease to exist one way or another come tomorrow morning.

This was the ugly undeniable truth.

The one thing Logan could not save you from.

"I know you're awake."

Fear curled around your heart like a fist as your eyes cracked open sluggishly—triggering a dull pain in your skull. The ability to speak was stripped from you after an hour of screaming. The hoarse echo of your voice sent a throbbing knife down your throat you chose to ignore.

So you stared at her; watched while she paced the floor in front of you—blue rolling off of her like waves from the ocean.

"He's gonna come for you," she muttered more to herself. "He'll show up."

You groaned and watched her stiffen—milky eyes flashing cerulean. The burn of the rope on your skin counteracted the searing ache in your torso. Her whip hung around her waist—coated in a dried layer of your blood. The sight sent bile up your throat even though your stomach remained empty. She stared at you as if you were someone else entirely; someone from a past life you'd never know about.

The need to inquire—to know more—began to build under your skin. But your body would no longer respond to what you wanted. The depletion of your energy affected more than your ability to speak; it tore at what little movement you had, ripping everything to shreds on the inside. You knew you looked half dead—felt like it too—but she could see the slight twitch of your mouth almost ready to open.

"Charles would have liked you," she revealed as if it were a small secret meant to be kept between the two of you. "He always had an affinity for those interested in mutant powers."

Sucking in a breath, you managed to force your voice to work. "I-I know the history."

"I bet you would." She glanced at the window where dusk crept into the late afternoon sky; brilliant hues of orange and red mimicking the pain in your body. "I didn't think I'd exist in this universe."

"You don't," you croaked. "I'm not a mutant."

Her lips curled, a small laugh exhaling from her mouth. "Yeah. I guess you're not. Maybe that's what he likes about you."

Logan's face seeped into the back of your mind; the tender smile he wore when you woke up together. The hope in his eyes that this might remain a consistent part of his life. That he may have lucked out on the prospect of getting to have you for as long as you chose to keep him.

Suddenly that part of your life felt a million miles away. Just barely out of reach, growing further in distance the harder you tried to capture it.

"I-I'm you," you mumbled, head tipping to the side. "That's why."

"No. You're not me." She regarded you with a look of pity, lips down turned in a mock pout. Ire burned in your chest with the embers of a flame lit by Logan. "You're weak."

You huffed, digging your nails into your palms to divert your attention from the pain. "I survived you."

The slap that whipped across your face was unexpected. You cried out—head falling back against the chair—as she stood over you. Power emanating from her stance. This wasn't someone to toy with. You could see how she craved to rip your tongue from your mouth; the need to silence her variant crawling beneath her skin.

But something held her back from approaching that final line.

Something scared her.

"You won't die if you do it," you wheezed, struggling to breath through a nose so clotted with dried blood. "That's not how this works."

She sneered. "And you're smart enough to know how all of this works."

"So it seems."

Her fingers gripped your wrist, nails boring into your already sliced open skin, as she leaned over you. "The Logan in this universe is dead." You stuttered out a halfhearted breath; body ringing with a plea to stop. To put an end to this fucking torture. "How did he die?"

You winced, leveling her glare with one of your own. "He sacrificed himself."

"You're fucking with me," she laughed, the sound shrill and hoarse.

Neither of you heard the creak behind her. You could barely register anything other than the rush of blood that pounded against your eardrums. She seemed to be enjoying how your body slowly deteriorated beneath the strain of the pain. Far too distracted to notice the person creeping into the house—sunglasses on her face—claws extended in a stance of defense.

"Who garnered enough fucking attention from Logan Howlett for him to sacrifice himself?" she jeered.

"His daughter."

Fortuna spun whip in hand, as a young woman stood mere feet away. Her head was cocked in interest as if she'd never quite seen two identical people in the same room. You knew her name the second your eyes locked on her form. The same dark hair, same grim tight lipped frown. The same silver claws and stubborn streak.

The sight of Laura Kinney took your breath away.

She stood before you every bit the girl that Logan made her out to be as he spoke about her in shared conversations at your kitchen table. You could see the mirror image of her father in each expression, each small twitch of her body that prepared to fight. And something flared to life in your chest.

You were angry that Fortuna was about to hurt her. Logan's daughter was ready to put her life on the line to rescue someone she'd never met before.

A missing detail which didn't appear to matter to her. Logan loved you. That was certainly enough for her.

Fortuna gaped at her—astounded by the familiar details and hints that Laura was indeed telling the truth. Not only had Logan Howlett died in this world, but he left behind a legacy that would live on for him. He saved the only important thing in his life so she could one day do the same for the version of her father who would stay.

"He's here isn't he?" she asked calmer than you expected. The whip snapped to the ground. You flinched at the sound. A fact that Laura clocked within seconds—her head tilted in your direction.

Though you couldn't see her eyes behind the pink sunglasses, you knew that fury burned in them as they would her father's.

"He sends his regards." Laura's fingers curled into fists.

"A child," she spit. "He sent a child to do his bidding?"

She shrugged, lips curling into a false grin. "Don't worry. I'm more than capable of killing you."

You felt pride flicker in your heart as Logan's cocksureness bled through her words. Where Laura went, Logan wasn't too far behind. You pulled at the restraints, the burn of ropes dragging along open wounds, but you refused to let Laura do this on her own. It seemed that the both of you had turned to the same page—her head nodding in your direction subtly.

"Well." Fortuna stepped forward, sapphire pouring off her body. "I suppose Logan's legacy won't last long in this universe."

Laura charged forward with a scream, claws slicing at Fortuna's middle only for the whip to wrap itself around her arm. With a shout, Fortuna flung her to the side—watching with an unhinged smile as Laura hit the wall hard enough to make you wince. You tugged at the rope—a hoarse cry ripping from your throat when a boot slammed into the legs of the chair.

"Don't tell me you're ready to leave," she shouted. "We were bonding."

"Fuck you," you snapped.

"Ouch." Her hand gripped your chin, lifting you to meet her expressionless eyes. "Is that the best you can do, human?"

"No," you gasped, hand scrambling for the knife at her thigh. "This is."

It embedded in her arm, slicing open skin as she shouted in rage, stumbling back into Laura's vicinity. Claws ripped through the back of her leg, cutting open her calf, as a familiar dark head of hair slid past her, crouching in front of your chair with a roar.

"You bitch!" Fortuna tossed the blade to the side, her hand forming around the open wound.

It clattered against the floor seconds before the door burst open—a man in red bursting through and flinging yet another baby knife towards Fortuna's healing body. She ducked, whip coiling like a snake in the air, slamming down with a crack. Wade shrieked, flipping to the side and ducking behind the broken couch as the familiar click of a bullet falling into the chamber resonated in the air.

"I'd say I'll put my hands up but you'd probably tie them together huh. You kinky minx!"

You winced through the grin, Laura's eyes tracked Fortuna's movements like a predator waiting when to strike. Whatever the plan was, Logan was sure to make sure someone was on you at all times. If only to get you out of the house and into the forest safely. From there it was quick to disappear.

Wade seemed to be the distraction in this case. Fitting.

His head peeked over the couch—the whip slicing over him with a sound that pierced through you. "You die tonight Deadpool."

"You don't want me. You want my buddy right outside this house." He stood, finger pulling the trigger quicker than you expected. Only for a silver and blue whip to slice through it—the fragmented pieces of a smoking bullet hitting the floor and rolling away.

"Surrender you walking condom."

"Pump the hate brakes Wanda Maximoff." Another bullet slid into place. "Peanut junior? Would you like to take it away?"

Launching herself into the air, Laura toppled Fortuna to the side with a scream, her claws slashing to get her pound of flesh. Wade laughed, striding towards you—boot effortlessly kicking his knife up and into his hand. You’d never wanted to hug the man more.

He winced at the sight of your puffy face; your right eye was nearly swollen shut from where Fortuna decided to land her hits. A pastime she seemed to enjoy, simply to hear you scream.

You wondered if you took off the mask, would you see Wade's face bleeding with rage. Or did he too wear an expression of pity.

"Logan's gonna kill her," he muttered, crouching in front of you and sliding the knife through the ropes with ease. "I've got ya sweet angel."

"W-Where is he?" You staggered to your feet, Wade's arm wrapped tightly around your waist to keep you upright. "He can't be here. She'll kill him Wade."

He clicked his tongue, leading you to the front steps, past where Laura was busy twisting Fortuna's whip around her own neck. "He knows what's at risk, angel. Believe me. I offered to be the noble sacrifice but I played that card when it came to saving this universe and there's no take backs."

"He's gonna die," you rasped, your knees buckling as he got you over the last step. "H-He can't die."

Wade gripped your arms, settling you to the ground with a grunt. "You forget who you're fucking sweet angel. He's the Wolverine."

"But she's-"

"A toxic ex who can't seem to take no for an answer. We've all got one of those."

You huffed. "She's more than an ex."

"I know." Pulling the gun free from his thigh, he made sure you were safe before stepping back to the front stoop. "But that doesn't mean this isn't a daytime soap opera." He turned to the treeline with a sigh. "You coming, your majesty or should I roll out the red carpet?"

A glimpse of the man in question stopped your heart, the breath catching in your throat, as Logan finally stepped forth. His suit was sewn with pieces of black leather (no doubt from Wade's leftover stash), a yellow X stretched across his chest now became the sole focus. Yet that isn’t what filled your body with warmth.

This time he wore the suit with pride. A glint of determination was in his eyes that once never used to exist. He stepped forward the X-Man this world needed; ready and willing to take on the legacy of a man he once loathed. You felt your heart twist violently at the sight—love pouring into your chest faster than you could stop it.

"Honey," he breathed, rushing over—hesitation and a storm of outrage clashing together in his hazel eyes.

"I'm okay."

He huffed through his nose, hands gathering you gently in his arms. "Don't bullshit me honey."

Wade's cough was exaggerated, his hands gesturing to the doorway. Laura's shouts and the crashing of furniture being demolished spilled through the broken windows—her rage matching her father's right down to the familiar lilt of her roar. She was a fighter. Just like the man who held you as if you were glass. Your pain, now a reflection in his eyes as he took in what Fortuna did to you.

"You can't kill her. She’s too powerful," you stated.

“You’re safe.” He didn’t seem to comprehend your words. Opting to press you close enough to feel his body heat sink into your frigid form. “That’s all that matters.”

Wade ducked down, pressing his face close to Logan's. "Yeah. I don't mean to interrupt your romantic hero kiss the girl moment. But what the fuck are we gonna do?"

"She can't keep going like this," Logan replied. "Eventually she's gonna have to tap out."

"Of course! Makes perfect sense. Mind elaborating for the audience honey badger?"

Logan sighed, his hand cupping your face with a pained noise in the back of his throat. "Her energy will run out. Same as Charles and...Jean. They couldn't keep up the fight forever."

"Okay but the whole freezing time business." He glanced to the side, shoulders lifting in a perfunctory shrug. "I know right, we really could have explained this earlier."

"Mutants are aware." Logan rose to his feet, leaving you to sit on the ground, your hand outstretched to keep him here. "We have to struggle but we can break free if she's weak enough."

"Wow." Wade sagged, a muffled groan coming through the mask. "That's just lazy writing."

You gripped Logan's hand, forcing him to step closer. "You're not going in there."

"Honey-"

"No." Gripping the stair railing, you struggled to your feet—eyes blazing with a headstrong fighting spirit Logan loved you for. "She'll kill you Logan. I can't lose you. I-I won’t."

His breath was heavy, hand curling around the back of your neck to press his forehead to yours. "You're not gonna lose me alright? Not today."

"Logan-"

Wade gripped your arm, drawing your gaze to him. "Don't worry sweet angel. He's got a bodyguard." You leveled him with a glare that would have sent him six feet under if his mutant power wasn't regeneration. "Have I ever mentioned that your eyes are the perfect shade of rage and violence. It's like a beautiful fucked lava lamp from the eighties."

You weren't sure if he was paying you a compliment or trying to lighten the mood. Logan sighed against your cheek, disappointment practically bleeding through his words.

"Seventies Wade."

"He would know. He's from 753 B.D." He turned. "Before Deadpool."

"A.D.," you spit, fighting the hint of a grin that threatened to bloom across your face.

"Not in this universe."

A shout tore through the small sliver of peace as Laura was thrown from the house, landing in a bloodied heap on the grass. Mere seconds passed before she was flipping to her feet again, claws extended and glasses forgotten about in the dirt. You wondered if the surge of warmth in your chest was pride or something else entirely.

Perhaps one day you'd get the chance to figure it out.

"Time to go do what heroes do," Wade said, nudging Logan as Fortuna floated through the open doorway, landing mere feet away from where you stood.

"Wolverine," she crooned, her boots a steady thump against the wooden porch. "Come to rescue the human I see."

Logan gripped your waist, moving you away from the house with quick steps. You clawed at his back to get him to stop. To keep him from leaving you behind. But Laura's hands on your shoulders forced you to remain calm—to remain on the edge of the property and watch as the man your heart screamed for walked away.

"Logan!" you shouted, fighting against the girl's hold, but the wasted energy was all for naught. There was no breaking away from a determined Wolverine.

He rejoined Wade with a darkened grimace. His claws ripping through the flesh of his knuckles as Wade pulled free the katanas strapped to his back. Your voice shouting his name set his entire body on edge; the urge to go to you, comfort the panic that filled your veins, nearly breaking his spirit.

But this was not your war and Logan would go down fighting before he let another person he loved fall into the hands of death.

"Alright," Wade grunted, cracking his neck. "Maximum effort."

Fortuna's whip snapped in the air, slicing a gaping hole in time as Logan and Wade charged. She leapt forward, boot pushing off the railing and toppling into them with a shout—a stolen knife carving into Logan's shoulder. He shoved her off, claws swiping for her neck, teeth bared in a snarl.

She ducked, foot slamming into Wade's stomach, rupturing the surrounding area with a blast that sent Logan sliding back into the dirt. He grunted, claws burying into the soil as Wade reached for his guns. A single katana forgotten on the ground.

"Pathetic," she sneered.

"Look who's talking McFly." Wade fired off three rounds, watching her roll to avoid the bullets, her hands crushing the dead grass beneath her.

She pointed to Wade. "You're first."

He laughed. "Bring it on you witch bitch."

Fortuna scoffed, glancing at Logan. "Does he ever shut the fuck up."

"Ha! Good luck with that. I can go on forever."

The whip unraveled from her wrist, rapidly slicing towards Wade—wrapping around his arm in a dramatic rendition of what already happened. This time he was prepared. Sprinting towards Logan, he rolled to the side as claws dragged down your arm. Opening a wound in her arm; blood pouring down her skin, dripping onto the grass.

“Fuck!” she snapped, knife lodging into Wade’s back as she leapt towards Logan.

His knee met her stomach, slamming her a few feet back until she landed on the ground. A groan reverberating in her chest.

Time flickered, punching them in the chest as they fought to move. Air rushed to his lungs as she stumbled to her feet—time falling back into place. Wade grabbed the second gun strapped to his thigh with a huff. The shot went off, the bullet finding its mark in Fortuna's wounded arm.

She screamed, falling to one knee—waves of blue pouring into the ground, forming a bubble of safety. She plucked at the fabrics of the universe, pulling them towards her as Wade pulled the trigger until the mag was empty. A pile of bullets by her body now trapped in light.

"Fuck!" Wade tossed his gun to the side.

Logan turned to see Laura holding you back, your face stricken in fear as you watched them battle it out. It was a struggle to have you here. To keep himself sane. He longed for you to be you close. What he wouldn’t give to take you away from all of this carnage. But you weren't safe as long as Fortuna was around.

She would always be a step behind, ready to chase him to the ends of this universe simply to watch him burn. He knew what he had to do. But the cost of making that choice weighed heavy on his chest—choking the very breath from his lungs. Wade could see it clear as day even as Fortuna began to build enough strength to keep herself going—to pull one final move.

With a shout, she swung her arms out, forcing enough energy their way to fling them into the air. Logan watched as spots began to form on his skin—time ripping away the very makeup of his DNA as she swung her whip in the air. It latched to his waist, dragging him forward until he was on his knees—body struggling to heal from something so unknown.

"Is she worth it?" she sneered, fingers curling into his hair to maneuver his head to keep his eyes on you. The struggle you put up to free yourself from Laura's grasp. "I'm going to kill her next Logan."

"No." He pushed against the vice of your whip, eyes latching onto the white streak hidden in your hair. A sign of what Fortuna had already started.

"I'll age her day by day, year by year, until she's dust."

"NO!"

She laughed, her lips brushing his cheek. "And you? You will have to live without her."

Tears stung his eyes when you finally managed to slip through Laura's hold, legs trembling as you forced your body to sprint his way. The sight of Logan's hair graying, wrinkles carving across his skin, brought you to the edge of your sanity. It ripped at your chest until blood poured from your heart. Staining the ground beneath you.

You couldn't lose him; you didn't know how to breathe without him. And you refused to watch him die from the sins of his past; actions he did not commit.

"Wait!" Laura shouted, running after you as Wade staggered to his feet.

"Angel!"

There was no thought process to your actions, no sense why you did what you did. All you could think about—all that filled your heart with dread—was the knowledge that Logan wouldn't survive this. He wouldn't be there to love you, give you the future you desperately ached for. He would never know you loved him.

That alone drove you forward with a pained cry.

Flinging yourself onto Fortuna, you sent the both of you flying a few feet away as Wade and Laura ran to rip her off you. But time stopped. Every sound stilled, and they were forced to stand and watch as Fortuna straddled your waist—her hands reaching for your throat.

"What do you have huh?" she snarled. "What the fuck do you have that I don't?"

"Please!" You punched her wherever you could reach, desperate to get her off of you. "He-"

"He what?"

"He wouldn't want you to do this Fortuna."

She laughed, manic enough to chill your heart with fear. "Who Logan? You think I fucking care? I would kill him in a-"

"CHARLES!" She froze, eyes flashing sapphire as her grip loosened. Giving you a chance to suck in air. "H-He loved you. Logan told me."

"Charles," she mumbled—a glimpse of your shared original color of her eyes coming through the expanse of white. "He's..."

"Dead." You gasped, turning to see three people you'd die for struggling against time—their bodies battling the power of someone far too corrupt. Someone who forgot where they came from; who their home was. "Your family...my family...they wouldn't want you to become this. P-Please. Charles, Jean, Storm. They didn’t want this for you."

She turned, gaze softening. "You would die for them."

Hot tears burned your frigid skin—falling down your temples and into your hair. "I would."

Stuttering out a breath, she fixed you with a gaze of someone you might have recognized in the mirror. A woman so broken by what time did to her. What the humans caused all because of her DNA. You wanted to promise that life might have turned out different if Logan stayed; that she would be safe. But even you knew it would be a lie.

There would be no saving her from the one thing that created her.

Time.

Leaning down, she pressed her forehead to yours—defeat curving around her shoulders, weighing heavy against her heart.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she murmured.

Pain detonated under your skin before you could open your mouth to respond, forcing your body to convulse in her tight grip. Scarred hands pressed tightly to your face, pinning you to the ground as her whip latched around your chest. Logan's roar became a distant buzzing sound that surrounded you as blue washed over your twisted bodies.

Her brows furrowed, eyes bleeding white as her iris began to form once more—the long lost color that matched your own gaze.

A mirror you wanted to shatter. Damn the bad luck that might befall you; this remained too agonizing to endure.

Her lips pressed to your ear, the pain ebbing from your veins with each pulsing wave. You clawed at her wrists, nails slicing through calloused skin as a scream erupted from the depths of your chest. Piercing the air and slamming directly into three chests.

People who were ripping at the ground to get to you—pulling their bodies across dirt as the curse of time began to lift from the air.

"Do better than me," she whispered, the hot drip of her tears mixing with your own.

Someone yanked her off of you, hurling her to the side with a familiar rumbled growl. You gasped for air, dragging your half limp body away from where Logan stood over her—claws a silver shine emanating with a promise.

"No!" Laura and Wade's hands clamped on your shoulders—keeping you at a safe enough distance. This time refusing to give you any leniency in your movements.

Logan lowered himself to one knee, chest heaving with stunted breaths as Fortuna lay before him—eyes wide with fear. He knew you were behind him. He could feel the burn of your gaze. But all the pain Fortuna caused began to splinter at what little mercy he might have held onto. Yet still the familiar fist of grief wrapped around his heart, reminding him of who Fortuna was.

The woman he once loved.

The woman he couldn't save.

"P-Please," she sighed, hand gripping onto his wrist, tugging his claws against her chest. "Before I hurt you Logan. Before I hurt her."

"I-" He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of a you so broken—so defeated. "I'm sorry."

She grinned, eyes clear for the first time—weightless after such suffering. "It’s okay. I-I’ll get to see them again. Charles. Jean. Storm."

A sob wracked his body as he dragged her into his lap, hand cupping her face with the tenderness she deserved. "Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them..."

"I will," she murmured, allowing him the freedom to break the final vow of their love. "Till death huh baby?"

Your shouts of his name echoed in the background—Wade's voice mixing with Laura's—and suddenly Logan understood why he found himself here. Why he would stay.

They weren't just his family. They were pieces of his heart sliced open and bared to the ravages of the world. And he would be their protector. The one to meet what danger threatened them head on; willing to fight till his last breath.

He'd be the person he could never be for her.

"Of course," he sighed, tears streaking down his cheeks. "Till death."

"Love her," she breathed, cupping his cheek and forcing his claws to pierce her chest. He sliced through her with a choked shout, the warmth of her blood spilling over his hands. Tainting him further; breaking his already tormented heart. "Love her how you couldn't love me Logan."

"I will honey." Her eyes dragged to how you lay on the ground, Wade's body practically covering yours to keep you from getting any closer. "I promise."

Light flickered in her vision—white and blue and perfect—as Logan clutched her close. Sobbing over a woman he would forever hold the memory of. The last of his family that he couldn't save. Her lips curled into a smile—serenity glistening in her eyes—as a familiar voice echoed in her mind. Tugging her close into welcoming arms.

"Hello Fortuna."

She stuttered out what little breath remained in her chest, a tear slipping down her cheek. "Charles."

"I like it," a voice mumbled, breaking through the darkness that shrouded your body. "And not just cause Ness has one."

A girl hummed. "It's cool."

"Very superhero."

You groaned, body battling any slight movement as your eyes fluttered open with a wince. Light streamed through a grand window, the bed too soft to be yours, yet you knew who sat beside you. Even through the blurred haze of vision, Wade's face was unmistakable. Shifting, you felt everything in you lock up—a hoarse cry falling past your lips.

Hands pushed you back down, steadying you gently as you were finally able to see the other person sitting on a table, munching on some fries. She had a shake beside her—feet propped up on the back of Wade's chair. The sunglasses she lost in the dirt were back atop her head, keeping her hair back.

"Whoa there angel face." He fluffed the pillow violently, jolting you slightly. "You've got two broken ribs and a wound across your torso that would give me being ripped in half by Juggernaut a run for my money."

"W-Where's-"

"Shhh." He raised a crystal glass of water to your lips. "Nurse Wade is here to take care of you. Sorry I don't have the outfit. I couldn't get to a Spirit Halloween in time."

Laura snorted into her food. "It's July."

"That doesn't matter. Those stores are like herpes. You can't ever get rid of that fucker."

"Where's Logan," you said through a broken whisper.

The silence isn't what scared you. No, you'd been through too much to be scared by the threat of nothing but melancholy looks in favor of telling you the truth. You could handle the quiet. What sent terror into your heart was the fact that you knew before you even opened your eyes where he was. His warmth was nowhere to be found in this bedroom; it barely lingered on your own body.

The man who held your heart, who promised to always protect you, was gone.

"No," you breathed, tears welling up and once again blurring your vision.

"He didn't want to go," Laura interjected.

You blinked furiously to keep them at bay. "What do you mean?"

"Fortuna." She pointed to the window that overlooked an expanse of green.

With a pained gasp, you turned to see what she was directing you towards—eyes fixing on a clearly buried grave covered in fresh dirt. A shovel stood straight, plunged a foot into the ground—the handle covered in a stain of deep brown.

Laura exhaled heavily. "She's dead. Logan buried her after he...killed her."

The breath rushed from your lungs, anguish slicing through your heart. "He..."

Wade nodded, somber and horrifyingly quiet. "He wanted to stay sweet angel. We forced him to go."

"Why?" you exclaimed, your body trembling under the stress of waking up too soon. "If he wanted to stay-"

"He was broken. I thought when I found him it was bad. This was worse angel face." Wade gathered your hands in his, drawing you close with a sigh. "He needs to grieve her."

"But I love him," you whimpered, unashamed by how fast the tears were falling. Laura watched you with the eyes of her father—striking your heart in a way that split you in two. "I-I didn't get to tell him."

"He knew," she murmured softly. "Trust me."

Wade pressed a swift kiss to your hands. "He'll come home. I made him fucking promise to return to you. But right now he's gotta figure some shit out."

Laura slipped off the table, curled onto the end of the bed and handed you something folded and crumpled—streaked in stains of blood and ink that bled through the thin notebook paper. You took it with a shaky breath, cold hands closing around hers with a grim smile. Something to let her know that you were thankful for everything she did.

She wasn't your daughter. This you knew. But you wouldn't mind if she bestowed that title on you one day.

In fact...you hoped she would.

"He told me to give that to you," she said, eyes brighter than before.

You sucked in a painful breath, unfolding the letter with trembling hands. Seeing his handwriting was like a punch to your chest. The smudged words and crossed out lines as he attempted to explain himself in words for the first time. This wasn't his forte—you understood that—but the fact that he tried filled your chest with warmth.

Honey,

Don't hate Wade or even my kid for me not being there. Believe me I fuckin' wanted to. Almost ripped him to pieces when he told me I had to go for your sake. But they were right. You Fortuna was the only family I had left. I have to remember what loving her felt like. I need to let her go.

Wade and Laura are there to protect you, care for you like I can't right now. But I made a promise to you and her. So you can expect me back one day.

I care about you

I love you.

So much.

I'll love you till the end honey. Don't forget that.

-Logan

You clutched the paper to your chest, salt coating your taste buds as you sobbed for the man that you failed to protect. You would have died for him. He knew this. Perhaps that's why he left; to give you a chance to heal without him. To return as the Logan you met, not the one mangled by grief.

Laura moved closer, her hand shifting to clutch yours as tears glistened in her eyes. A solemn smile on her face. This is what Logan offered you. People who loved you; people who would die for you. Logan made sure that even in his absence you'd be safe—protected.

He gave you the one thing he couldn't keep for himself. The one aspect of his life he had to learn to accept.

Logan left you a family.

note: my brain is mush but i love you guys. it will get better i promise!

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #my writing

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