#widow: they also burned that house just over there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

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i love you, in every life ࿐‧₊ worst logan - imperfect for you

chapter summary: You and Laura find yourselves in the void. A few months later, Wade—who claims to be from your universe, and a different Logan appear with a way out.

word count: 17.3k+ (31k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: alright! this is the second part, the first part was the logan movie, and while i recommend you read it, you don't necessarily have to.

most of this actually takes place after 'deadpool and wolverine.' surprisingly, i found this logan to be the hardest to write for, so i apologize if people think his character is wrong, i tried my best😭

also this is split in two parts! it's too long for tumblr to fit in one post!

(also, i know that it's 10 pm est, but i felt like i had to put this out now after watching lady gaga and bruno mars' performance at the grammy's)

warnings/tags: canon to 'deadpool and wolverine', black widow!reader, worst!logan, laura calls reader mom, violence, heavy angst, detached!reader, loverboy!logan, slow burn, fluff, wade wilson interruption, happy ending, not proofread

series masterlist - part 1 → part 2.5

“Laura!” You called out, your voice bouncing off the walls of the house. “Lau—”

“I’m here! I’m here.” Laura said, walking away from the staircase and to the front door where you stood.

You put your hands on your hips, “you know, you can try to skip school again, but I will find out. Like I always do.”

She rolled her eyes, adjusting her backpack, “yeah, you’re all-knowing Mom. Can we just go? I promise I won’t skip school again.” Laura walked past you, “even if it was just last period.” She muttered.

You leaned over her shoulder, “wanna say that again?” You asked with a smirk, as she sighed and shook her head before opening the door.

At least 5 people in black suits with orange accents. “Y/N Howlett? Laura Keen?”

Your hand reached behind your back for your hidden dagger as Laura clenched her fists, claws ready to come out.

“Yes?” You asked hesitantly.

“On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the sacred timeline.” The man without a helmet said, “hands up.”

Both you and Laura moved at the same time, with you throwing your dagger into the chest of one of the men and Laura stabbing one of them with her claws. Before you could do much more, someone from behind grabbed you, pulling you backwards through an orange door, another man doing the same with Laura.

Immediately you were both in another place, it almost looked like a retro, but futuristic, office space. Laura growled at the man holding her, but his grip on her was surprisingly tight.

“You punched a hole in the timeline after that stunt. Now, you have to be terminated.” A woman said to you, as you tilted your head.

“Come again? Hole—timeline—what?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at you, “you gave your husband back his memories and caused a large anomaly, spreading you throughout the timeline.”

“You’re making no fucking sense. You can’t just take me and my daughter away from—”

The woman looked at one of the men who brought you and Laura here, “this is the one from Earth-100006, right?”

The man looked down at his small tablet then back up at the woman. “…No. They’re from Earth-100005.”

She sighed, waving her hand. “Terminate them.”

“What?” You growled, taking one step forward before a baton touched you, making you disappear.

“Mom!” Laura yelled. “What did you do to—” The baton touched Laura, making her disappear as well.

---

When you woke up, you were lying on sand, the sun beating heavily down on you. Every inch of your body felt heavy, and a searing pain radiated from where the baton had touched you. Blinking against the sunlight, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, sand clinging to your palms.

“Mom!” Laura’s voice snapped you out of the haze. She was stumbling toward you, her backpack missing, her hair wild from whatever had just happened. Relief coursed through you when you saw she was unharmed.

“I’m here,” you rasped, your throat dry as dust. You reached for her as she dropped to her knees beside you.

“What the hell just happened?” she asked, her voice trembling with anger. “Where are we? Where did they send us?”

You looked around, trying to get your bearings. The landscape was barren, a wasteland of jagged rocks, broken remnants of buildings, and endless dunes of sand stretching into the horizon. The sky above was gray and swirling, like the calm before a storm. In the distance, you could make out twisted shapes—structures or machines—but nothing alive.

“Not sure,” you said, pulling Laura closer for a moment, “but it’s not home.”

Laura’s claws slid out instinctively as she scanned the area. “This place… it feels wrong.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” You pushed yourself to your feet, testing your weight against the burning ache in your muscles. You checked your back for your dagger, but it was gone. “First thing’s first: we need to figure out where we are, what those bastards did to us, and how to get out.”

Laura nodded, her fists tightening. “If they hurt you, I’ll kill them.”

You smirked despite everything. “You’d better get in line, kiddo.”

Before either of you could say more, the faint hum of engines reached your ears. You turned sharply, squinting against the haze, and saw figures approaching in the distance.

“Shit,” you muttered, pulling Laura behind you as the shapes grew clearer. There were three vehicles—ramshackle but armored—kicking up dust as they sped toward you. They screeched to a halt a few yards away, and several people jumped out, armed to the teeth.

“Don’t move,” one of them barked, pointing a rifle at you. He was tall, bald, and scarred, his pale eyes scanning you with a mix of suspicion and recognition.

Laura growled, her claws sliding out.

“Easy,” you murmured to her, raising your hands slightly. “We don’t want to start a fight we can’t finish.”

“Y/N Howlett,” a woman’s voice said from behind the group. She stepped forward, her piercing gaze cutting through you. Her presence was commanding, and her bald head and strange demeanor set her apart from the rest. “And Laura Keen. Interesting. We’ve been expecting you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not creepy at all. Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Cassandra Nova,” the woman replied coolly. “And you’re in the Void. Welcome.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the warm reception,” you shot back. “Now tell me what you want before I lose my patience.”

Cassandra tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Fiery. I see why he loved you.”

Your chest tightened. Even though she didn’t say his name, the context was clear enough. “Don’t.”

“Oh, but I will,” she said, stepping closer. “You’ve lived so many lives, Y/N, and yet, every time, he’s there. Do you even know why?”

“Lady, I don’t have time for your cryptic bullshit.”

“Patience,” Cassandra said, raising a hand. “I don’t need to waste time with questions when I can just take the answers.” Her eyes began to glow faintly as she focused on you.

The sensation hit like a wave—cold, invasive, and sharp, as if someone were clawing through your mind. But as quickly as it started, Cassandra reeled back, her expression twisting in confusion.

“You…” she whispered, narrowing her eyes. “Why can’t I get in? What are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you shot back, forcing yourself to stand tall despite the pounding in your head. “You try that again, and I’ll show you exactly what I am.”

Cassandra’s lips thinned, but before she could respond, Laura lunged forward without warning, her claws flashing as she aimed straight for Cassandra’s throat. But before she could make contact, one of the armored figures moved in, grabbing Laura by the arm and throwing her back. Laura landed with a grunt, but she was back on her feet in seconds, ready to charge again.

“You’re wasting your time,” Cassandra said, her voice cold. “Surrender, or this gets much worse for you both.”

“Not happening,” you shot back, your grip tightening on your dagger.

Before the situation could escalate further, a deafening boom echoed from behind Cassandra’s group. Everyone turned just in time to see a massive fireball hurtling toward them. It slammed into the sand, sending a shockwave through the ground and knocking several of the armored soldiers off their feet.

“What the—” Laura started, but another explosion cut her off, this time from the opposite side.

Two figures appeared over the dune, running at full speed. One was a man engulfed in flames, flying just above the ground, while the other was heavily armed, his face hidden behind a tactical mask. The flaming man shot another fireball at the soldiers, while the masked figure opened fire with a barrage of bullets, cutting down two of the soldiers before they even had a chance to react.

“What the hell is going on?” Laura shouted, glancing at you.

“No idea,” you muttered, watching as the battle unfolded in a blur of fire and gunfire.

The flaming man soared over Cassandra’s head, sending another blast of fire in her direction. She dodged it easily, her eyes narrowing in anger. “Kill them!” she ordered her remaining soldiers, but they were already being overwhelmed.

The masked figure moved with deadly precision, taking down soldiers left and right with well-aimed shots. He was fast—too fast for them to keep up.

The fight was chaotic, but in the middle of it all, Cassandra’s gaze locked onto you again. “This isn’t over,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. Then, without warning, she disappeared in a flash of light, taking the remaining soldiers with her.

You and Laura stood there, breathless and confused, as the battle ended as quickly as it began. The flaming man and the masked figure approached cautiously, their weapons still at the ready.

Laura’s claws were still out, her stance tense. “Who the hell are you?”

The flaming man extinguished the fire surrounding him, revealing a young, blonde man with a cocky smirk. “Name’s Johnny Storm. And I think we just saved your asses.”

The masked figure stepped forward, removing his helmet to reveal the grizzled face of a man you didn’t recognize. “And I’m the Punisher. You’re welcome.”

---

“So, you were all sent here. For ‘not playing nice,’” you said, crossing your arms and scanning the group. Johnny leaned casually against the wall, the cocky smirk never leaving his face. Frank Castle, aka the Punisher, stood nearby, stoic as ever, his arms crossed like a living wall. The new trio—Elektra, Blade, and a man Johnny had called Remy—watched you with varying degrees of suspicion.

Elektra’s eyes narrowed. “That’s putting it lightly,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. The twin sais strapped to her thighs gleamed in the low light. “Apparently, stabbing the wrong guy gets you sent here.”

Blade snorted. “Wrong guy was a senator.”

Elektra’s lips curved into a dangerous smile. “He deserved it.”

“Not the point,” Blade muttered, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was built like a tank, his presence commanding even in silence.

Remy, with his disheveled brown hair and glowing red eyes, let out a low whistle. “Look like we got new recruits,” he said, his Cajun accent thick. “You gonna play nice, chére, or you gonna cause trouble?”

Laura’s claws slid out with a snikt, her glare cutting through the room. “Try me.”

You stepped in front of her, placing a hand on her arm. “Laura. Not the time.”

Remy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy now, petite. Jus’ makin’ conversation.”

Johnny laughed. “Gambit’s harmless—well, unless he’s got cards in his hands.”

“You got a point?” you asked, turning to Johnny, your patience wearing thin. “Or do you just like hearing yourself talk?”

“Both,” Frank said gruffly, finally speaking up. His voice was deep and gravelly, and his expression made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for games. “But Johnny’s right about one thing—we’re all here because the TVA didn’t like what we did. Same with you and the kid.”

You sighed, glancing at Laura. Her fists were still clenched, claws out, but she hadn’t made another move. “Fine. We’re all rebels. What’s the plan?”

Elektra’s smile turned sharp. “Plan? There’s no plan. We survive.”

“Survive what?” Laura asked, her voice laced with skepticism.

Johnny leaned forward, his smirk fading. “The Void ain’t exactly Club Med, sweetheart. There are worse things out there than us.”

“Like what?” you asked.

Blade stepped closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Alioth.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alioth?”

“A predator,” Blade said simply. “Consumes anything it touches.”

“Big purple smoke monster,” Johnny clarified, his hands miming an explosion. “Real nasty. You see it, you run.”

Laura scoffed. “We don’t run.”

“Then you die,” Frank said bluntly. “We’ve seen it happen.”

Elektra stepped forward, her gaze fixed on you. “This place isn’t just a dumping ground. It’s a death sentence. The TVA sends people here to get rid of them permanently. If you’re smart, you’ll stick with us. We know how to stay off the radar.”

“Why would you help us?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. “You don’t know us.”

Remy grinned. “Maybe we jus’ like company.”

“Or maybe we want to see what you’re made of,” Elektra added, her voice edged with challenge.

Before you could respond, a loud crash echoed from outside the bunker. Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward the door. Johnny’s hand ignited in flames, and Blade unsheathed his sword.

“Alioth?” you asked, your voice low.

“No,” Frank said, moving toward the door. “Too small. But it’s not friendly.”

Laura moved to your side, her claws ready. “Let’s find out.”

Elektra smirked. “I like her.”

Johnny opened the door cautiously, flames crackling in his palm. The rest of you followed, weapons at the ready. The landscape outside was as bleak as ever, the gray sky swirling ominously.

“Over there,” Blade said, pointing to a figure stumbling over the sand. It was humanoid but moved awkwardly, like it wasn’t fully in control of its body.

“TVA tech,” Frank muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle. “Looks like one of their enforcers.”

“Not anymore,” Elektra said, her eyes narrowing. “It’s corrupted.”

The figure turned toward you, its eyes glowing an unnatural green. Its body twitched violently before letting out an unearthly screech. Without warning, it charged.

“Move!” you shouted, grabbing Laura and pulling her back as Johnny hurled a fireball at the creature. The blast knocked it back, but it kept coming, its movements erratic and unnatural.

Blade stepped forward, his sword gleaming. With a swift, calculated strike, he severed the creature’s head. It crumpled to the ground, twitching before going still.

“What the hell was that?” Laura asked, her claws still out.

“TVA cleanup crew,” Frank said, kicking the remains. “Sometimes their tech gets left behind and... mutates.”

“Mutates into what? Zombies?” you asked.

“Close enough,” Johnny said, extinguishing the flames on his hand. “That’s why we don’t go wandering around unless we have to.”

Elektra looked at you and Laura, her expression unreadable. “Still think you can handle this place?”

You met her gaze evenly. “We don’t have a choice.”

---

It had been months since you and Laura entered the void. Frank had died a few days after you and Laura arrived, presumably by Alioth or what they call the ’Deadpool Corps’.

Since Johnny had left a few days ago and hadn’t returned, you and Laura decided to go out and look. There wasn’t any clues or leads until Laura came upon a Honda Odyssey with two men inside it. One in a red suit, tied up with seatbelts, and the other in a yellow suit with the same face as her own father.

She knew it wasn’t him, that he wasn’t their Logan, but it seemed like this was her only lead. She got into bloodied and wrecked car and drove it to base.

---

Wade finally woke up, sitting up on the bed, “where are we?”

“No clue,” Logan held up a whiskey bottle he was drinking from, “but I like it here.”

Rumbling came from outside the place they were in. Wade went to the entrance standing by it’s side when a woman came in and used her sai to knock Wade down.

Behind her a man entered, wearing black sunglasses, and after that was another man, holding a stack of playing cards.

“Okay, look at you… all. You must be the others. Terrific. So just to refresh, you are one- ”

“Elektra.” She said.

“Elektra, yes. Who could forget? And you, I was not expecting to see you here, thought you were… you know, retired.” Wade said in an accent.

“Retarted?”

“Retired.” Wade said again. “I’m already in the void. I’m not trying to get cancelled again.”

Blade, or Eric, pointed his blade at Wade, “I don’t like you.”

“You never did.” Wade turned to the other man, “and who’s this succulent reminder of my own inadequacies? Look at you. You look like the superhero version of Hawkeye.”

“The name’s Remy LeBeau. Le Diable Blanc, but you can call me the Gambit.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Sling Blade hit me again.” Wade asked.

“They call me the Gambit.” Remy said again.

“Do they? Are you sure you didn’t just really, really want them to, but it never quite worked out?”

Remy turned his gaze from Wade to Logan in the back, “you know, we never had a Wolverine up in here. But I can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.”

“It’s a good think I don’t give a fuck.” Logan shot back. He went to take another drink from the bottle when Remy tossed a playing card, breaking the bottle in half, glass shattering to the floor.

Wade stood up and looked between Remy and Logan, before settling his gaze on the latter, who tossed the top half of the bottle on the ground. “So embarrassing.”

Logan grabbed another bottle from the shelf.

“Well, now that that’s settled, look, we came a long way to find you three.”

“There’s five of us.” Elektra corrected.

“There’s five? Is one of them Magneto? Dear sweet God in heaven, let it be Magneto, because with him- ”

“He’s dead.” Blade cut in.

“Fuck!” Wade yelled, “now Disney gets cheap? It’s like Pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.”

“Ooh, you nasty! Mon petit rouge. Laissez les bons temps rouler, huh?” Remy said.

“Not a single word, what do you do exactly?” Wade questioned.

“Charge the playing cards. Make ‘em go boom.”

“Your power is close-up magic, that’s good. We’re not totally fucked at all. So, who brought us here?”

“That would be me.” Laura said, as she walked down the stairs into the room. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Holy shit. Logan. That’s her. That’s X-23. She’s the one I told you about.”

Laura looked at Logan, younger than the one she met years ago. Part of her wondered if this is how he looked before it all went to shit.

Wade looked to the others, “hey, how did you all get stuck in the void?”

“There was a knock at the door, TVA sent me here.” Blade said.

“Me too.” Elektra added.

“Maybe I was born here. It’s- it’s hard to know for sure.” Remy answered.

“TVA decided our universe was dying. And I never even got a chance to fight for it.” Blade continued.

Laura walked close to the wall, watching Logan continue to drink from the bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

“People like us don’t go quietly. TVA knows that, so they took us out.” Elektra said.

Wade kissed his gloved fingers and pointed it towards them, “the answer is yes. I’m in.”

“In what?” Blade questioned.

“A team. Me, you, you and me. All of us together. Let’s get the fuck out of this place.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a fucking liar!” Logan called out.

“It was an educated wish!” Wade yelled back. Logan scoffed at him as Wade continued, “Look. We’ve been inside Cassandra’s lair. The only way out of the void is through her. She can get us home. She told us.”

“Wait a minute, you’ve been inside? And you made it out alive?” Blade asked.

“Bullshit.” Elektra commented, “nobody’s ever done that.”

“We did.” Wade answered.

“Every time one of us has gone up against her, they die. The Punisher, the Quicksilver, the Daredevil.” Remy started.

“Daredevil, I’m so sorry.” Wade looked at Elektra.

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.”

“Even that sweet, baby angel, Johnny Storm. He up and gone missing like, what, two days ago?” Remy said.

“Ah, that’s so sad. Wherever this Johnny feller is, I’m sure he’s thriving. Look, there’s strength in numbers. All right? Us, plus you guys. We can put Cassandra over our knee and force her to let us out of the void. I know what it means to feel self-doubt.”

“I don’t feel that at all.” Elektra looked over at Blade.

“I’m good.” He said.

“Now, I get your gut like a coke duct tape worm.” Wade continued.

“It’s like you’re in the middle of my soul.” Remy said.

“You guys may not have been able to save your universes, but you can avenge them. It’s what Johnny would have wanted.”

“Wait. You knew Johnny?” Elektra asked.

Before Logan could respond, you walked into the room, passing by Remy. “Yeah, he’s the reason Johnny is fucking dead.”

“Ah, ah. I’ll have you know that Cassandra killed him, not me. He was the one who ran his little mouth.” Wade said, throwing up his hands in mock defense.

You clenched your fists, holding back the frustration that boiled beneath the surface. “You didn’t help, Wade. You egged him on. You could’ve shut up for once.”

Wade waved a dismissive hand, leaning back against the wall. “I mean, that’s debatable. Can’t really shut up when you’re this charming.”

“Charming?” Elektra muttered, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Wade and Logan.

Laura’s gaze flickered between the two of them, tension evident in the way she crossed her arms.

Logan’s eyes hadn’t left yours since the moment you walked into the room. He stared at you, the bottle of Jack still halfway to his lips, forgotten. You didn’t look like you had aged, not that much anyway. It was a jolt to his system, like stepping into a memory. There you were, alive. In this damn place.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, and though you tried to avoid it, there was no denying it now. You had locked eyes with him, this other version of Logan. His brows furrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure you out, but there was something deeper in his eyes—recognition.

“I have to go,” you muttered, stepping back outside.

Laura looked between Wade and Logan before following you. “Mom!” she called, her voice sharp and worried as she jogged to catch up.

You didn’t stop until you were a good distance away from the others, your back turned to her. You exhaled, your hands gripping the railing of an old platform overlooking the desolate landscape of the void. Laura slowed when she reached you, her boots crunching lightly against the gravel.

“Mom,” she said again, softer this time.

You closed your eyes, steadying your breathing. “I’m fine,” you replied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

“No, you’re not.” Laura crossed her arms, watching you carefully. “That wasn’t him. You know that, right?”

You turned to face her, your expression conflicted. “I know it’s not him,” you said firmly, but the words felt hollow. “It’s just… he looks the same. Sounds the same. Even drinks the same damn whiskey.”

Laura studied you for a moment before speaking. “But he’s not the Logan you knew. He’s not Dad.”

The reminder hit you like a punch to the gut. You’d had years to grieve, but seeing another version of him alive and well—so close yet so far removed from the man you loved—had ripped open wounds you thought had healed. You shook your head, trying to push it all away.

“I just need a minute,” you said, turning back to the railing.

Laura hesitated, glancing back toward the hideout. “Do you want me to…?”

“No. Go back inside,” you told her. “I’ll catch up.”

She lingered for a moment, clearly reluctant to leave you alone, but eventually nodded. “Fine. But don’t take too long. Wade’s already planning something stupid, and I don’t trust Blade not to stab him.”

You almost smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach your lips. “I’ll be there soon.”

Laura gave you one last look before heading back toward the others. You waited until her footsteps faded before letting out a long, shaky breath. You gripped the railing tighter, your knuckles turning white.

---

Night had fallen in the void and Logan found himself outside sitting on a log, in front of a fire with a bottle of alcohol. He wasn’t allowed to think about this other version of you, or his own before Laura walked by him.

“Hey, hey. I’m not lookin’ for company. Get out of here.”

Laura sat down anyways, letting out a small chuckle. “You remind me of him. Angry. Drunk. Mean…”

“Sounds like a great guy—”

“Wasn’t finished.” Laura cut Logan off. “Showed up when it mattered the most. Couldn’t help it.” She watched as Logan sighed, his eyes still on the crackling fire. “You might not know it, but… you’re a good man, Logan.”

He chuckled, “you might not know it, but apparently, I’m the worst Logan.”

“I got to have a life because of you. I got to grow up because of you. A lot of kids did.”

“A lot of kids didn’t grow up because of me. Trust me, kid, I’m no hero.”

Laura looked over at him, her eyes trailing over the yellow suit. “That suit says different.”

“Yeah. Do you like it? Scott used to beg me to wear it. So did Jean, Storm, Beast. Y/N.” His voice cracked on your name, but he continued. “All of them. They wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t. Told ‘em they all look fucking ridiculous. I mean… I couldn’t have ‘em thinkin’ I wanted to be there. And then one day, while I was off on my own, the humans came… and went mutant hunting.”

“I can guess the rest.” Laura spoke.

“No, no, let me… Let me say it. I… I need to say it. By the time I stumbled home shitfaced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. Every…” Logan stifled a sob, his bottom lip quivering as he remembered the horror almost perfectly.

Scott and Beast’s bodies were at the front of the mansion, clearly trying to protect everyone else, while you and Storm were near the kids with Jean in front of you.

“This suit’s all I got to remind me of who they were. And what I did.”

Laura didn’t speak, just looked at Logan as he sniffled and took another drink of his whiskey. Finally, she spoke, “we’re headed to Cassandra’s at sunup.”

“Have fun. Not my fight.”

“We won’t pull this off without you.”

Logan briefly glanced at Laura before returning his gaze to the fire. Laura clenched her fists and stood up, beginning to walk away.

“Hey,” Logan called after her. “Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.”

She turned around to face him, “you were always the wrong guy.” Laura said, before returning on her way to base.

Logan watched Laura disappear into the darkness, her parting words echoing in his mind like a bad tune stuck on repeat. “You were always the wrong guy.” The fire crackled as he shifted on the log, the whiskey bottle in his hand feeling heavier than it should. He stared into the flames, his jaw clenched tightly, the weight of her words hitting harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t the right guy. He never had been.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He didn’t look up right away, figuring it was Laura again, coming back to throw another jab. But when the footsteps stopped a few feet away and silence followed, Logan finally glanced over his shoulder.

It wasn’t Laura. It was you.

The firelight danced across your features, casting shadows and illuminating the faint lines of tension around your mouth. Your arms were crossed, and your expression was unreadable, though your eyes betrayed a flicker of hesitation. Logan turned back to the fire, lifting the bottle to his lips.

“What do you want?” His voice was gruff, a practiced barrier meant to push people away.

“I don’t know,” you replied honestly, your tone soft but steady. You hesitated before stepping closer, the gravel crunching beneath your boots. “Maybe to talk. Maybe to figure out why I feel like I already know you.”

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “You don’t know me. And I don’t know you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into the flames. “Whatever you’re lookin’ for, you’re not gonna find it here.”

You didn’t move, just stood there, watching him. “Maybe not. But I can’t ignore it—this... whatever this is.” You motioned vaguely between the two of you. “It’s like looking at a ghost.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, a humorless chuckle escaping him. “Funny. That’s what you feel like to me.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, but you stayed quiet, letting the weight of them sink in. After a long moment, you spoke again. “Laura told me about what happened to the others. To… your version of me.”

He tensed, the grip on his bottle tightening. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I’m not trying to pry,” you said, stepping closer. “But I think we’re both avoiding the obvious here. In your world, I’m dead. In mine…” You trailed off, the ache in your chest making it hard to finish. “He’s gone.”

Logan looked up at you then, his sharp gaze meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The fire crackled between you, the silence stretching until it felt like the void itself.

“Seems like we’re both ghosts,” Logan finally muttered, looking back at the flames.

“Maybe,” you said softly, sitting down on the edge of a nearby log. “But ghosts usually have unfinished business.”

Logan smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah? What’s yours?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked up at the dark, starless sky, your hands resting loosely in your lap. “Trying to make sure Laura survives this hellhole. Trying to get us out of here.”

Logan tilted his head slightly, studying you in the flickering light. “She’s a tough kid. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “She gets it from her father.”

He didn’t respond, just took another swig of his whiskey. But there was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but heavy. You both knew what it was, even if neither of you wanted to say it.

After a moment, you stood, brushing the dust off your hands. “We’re leaving at sunup,” you said. “You should come with us.”

Logan shook his head. “Not my fight.”

You let out a murmured growl, “too fuckin’ stubborn.” You said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest and looking into the crowd of trees nearby.

But he heard it. He finally turned to face you completely, that one word throwing him off. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard you curse before—he had, in one of your other lives—but it never seemed natural coming from you. Now it did, like it fit in a way it hadn’t before.

Logan’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he studied you for a moment longer, as if trying to reconcile the you he remembered with the one standing in front of him.

You didn’t seem to notice his lingering gaze, or maybe you just didn’t care. Your arms stayed crossed, and your jaw was tight as you stared into the trees, the firelight flickering across your face.

“You done sulking, or should I give you some space to mope?” you asked, finally turning to look at him.

“Mope?” Logan echoed, an edge of irritation creeping into his tone.

“Yeah, mope. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself while the rest of us try to figure out how to not die tomorrow.”

“Not my fight,” he repeated, leaning back against the log and taking another swig from his bottle.

You rolled your eyes. “Right. Because it’s easier to sit here and wallow than to do something that might actually matter.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you, his sharp gaze trying to pierce through the wall you’d thrown up.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” he asked finally. “Why the hell do you care so much what I do?”

You huffed, shaking your head. “I don’t care what you do. I care what happens to Laura.”

“She’s a tough kid. She’ll figure it out.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” you shot back. “And you know it. You’ve got this thing in you, Logan—this need to protect people, even if it’s buried under all the whiskey and self-loathing. You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”

Logan snorted, the sound low and humorless. “Yeah? And what makes you such an expert on me, huh? You don’t even know me.”

You blinked, and he wasn’t able to tell if it was you holding back tears or clearing your face of your emotions.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you asked quietly. “You look at me like you don’t know me, but you do. I might not be her, or any of the ones you’ve met, but… I’m still me. And you’re still you. Still Logan. You just—”

Your voice broke, but you stopped yourself from letting it out. Crying wasn’t something you did, not anymore. You held your head high, jaw tight, and swallowed down the lump that threatened to rise in your throat. But Logan didn’t look up.

He kept his gaze firmly on the fire, his knuckles white around the bottle in his hand. His silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until you finally gave up. Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked back toward the base. Your footsteps echoed in the quiet void, but you didn’t look back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much this hurt you.

Logan didn’t move, didn’t call after you. The only sound left was the crackling of the fire and the distant whisper of the wind in the trees. He stared into the flames as if they held answers he couldn’t find, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

When he finally spoke, it was to himself. “I can’t do this again.”

The words were barely audible, but they carried the weight of lifetimes. He took another drink, letting the burn of the whiskey distract him from the ache in his chest. But no matter how hard he tried to drown it, your voice still lingered, cutting through the alcohol like a knife.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Because looking at you hurt. Because every time he did, he saw her—his version of you. The one he’d failed. The one he couldn’t save.

And maybe, if he admitted it to himself, because he was scared. Scared of letting you in. Scared of losing you all over again.

---

When you got back to the base, Laura was leaning against the wall, sharpening one of her claws with a whetstone. She looked up as you entered, her expression unreadable.

“Did he come around?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you sat down heavily on one of the benches. “He’s too stubborn. I should’ve known better.”

Laura snorted. “Stubborn runs in the family.”

You gave her a sharp look, but she just shrugged and went back to her whetstone. The rhythmic scrape of metal on stone filled the silence, but it didn’t do much to calm the storm in your chest.

“He’ll show up,” Laura said after a moment, her tone more subdued. “He always does. Even when he says he won’t.”

“Maybe,” you muttered, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. “But it’s not my Logan.”

Laura paused, her hand stilling for a moment before she looked up at you. “He’s still Logan,” she said quietly. “And you’re still you.”

You didn’t respond. What could you say to that? She wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make it any easier.

---

Logan stayed by the fire long after it had started to die out, the whiskey bottle empty at his feet. He should’ve gone back to the base, but the thought of facing you again felt like too much.

The truth was, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Not after everything he’d already lost. Not after what had happened to his world, to his team, to you.

But as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, he found himself standing, brushing the ash from his hands.

Maybe Laura was right. Maybe he was too damn stubborn for his own good.

But if there was even a chance he could make this right, if there was even a sliver of hope that he could protect you—this version of you—then maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.

---

“Ooh! Look at that there!” Remy exclaimed, looking ahead at Cassandra’s base. You see them biggum hands come closed. Ain’t not a wonna gettin’ up inside there.”

“I think what Gambit’s trying to say is getting Juggernaut’s helmet ain’t gonna be easy. I’m just making stuff up at this… yeah. Tilt up to Blade.” Wade trailed off.

“Gun!” Blade called out, as he stood up in the car through the opening in the roof. You lifted the gun up to Blade, who took it and aimed at the base.

“Where’d he get that little beauty?” Wade asked.

“That’s Punisher’s AT4.” Elektra answered.

“Which Punisher? There’s been, like, five of them.”

“There’s only been one Blade, and there’s only ever gonna be one Blade.” He spoke, before shooting the gun. It hit the closed hands of the Ant-Man suit causing Elektra to speed up, driving through the fire from the explosion before turning the car to a halt.

Cassandra’s minions aimed their weapons at the group as you all exited the van. You and Laura stood in the back with Wade and Remy in the front, and Blade and Elektra to the sides. Wade looked up into the head of the enlarged suit to see Cassandra.

The Odyssey’s trunk opening caught everyone’s attention. Turning to look, you saw Logan exiting the van. His eyes instantly met yours before briefly glancing at Laura. He moved to the front beside Wade.

“Ooh, this is gonna be good.” Blade commented.

“You know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this? Whoo! I’m about to make a name for myself here.” Remy spoke.

“I don’t think you guys walk away from this.” Logan commented.

“You just make sure people know what happened here today. And when you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?” Remy finished.

“You just stay on our six and get inside.” Blad ordered, moving to the front. You, Laura, and Elektra moved with him, standing in front of Wade and Logan. “We’ll make sure you get the package.”

“And we’ll get our ending.” Elektra said.

You pulled out your batons, powering them on as they shone blue, the faint hum of their charge filling the air. Laura slid on her sunglasses, her claws extending with a metallic snikt. Everyone was ready—Blade with his katana, Elektra twirling her sais, and Remy flicking a charged card between his fingers.

Cassandra’s minions surged forward, a chaotic wave of bodies armed with guns, knives, and makeshift weapons. You took a deep breath and moved in sync with Laura and Elektra, forming the front line of the attack.

Logan hung back with Wade, his eyes narrowing as he watched you dart forward, your movements swift and precise. It was like a dance—graceful, brutal, and deliberate. Each swing of your baton hit its mark, dropping Cassandra’s soldiers with calculated efficiency. He couldn’t reconcile this version of you with the shy physics teacher he’d known. This wasn’t the you he remembered, who’d tucked herself away in a world of equations and theories. This version fought with a cold, detached precision that sent a shiver down his spine.

“You seeing this?” Wade said, nudging Logan as he ducked a stray bullet. “Your girl’s got moves.”

Logan grunted, not taking his eyes off you. “She’s not my Y/N.”

“Right, right, multiverse shenanigans. Still, if I were you, I’d feel a little insecure. That physics degree sure didn’t teach her how to do that.” Wade gestured wildly as you flipped over one of Cassandra’s soldiers, your baton cracking down on his skull mid-air.

Logan ignored him and started up the steps toward the lair, his claws unsheathed. “C’mon, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Ugh, fine. Leave the fun to the professionals,” Wade muttered, following Logan while tossing a grenade over his shoulder. It exploded behind him, sending a group of minions flying.

Meanwhile, you spun around, parrying a blade aimed at Laura before kicking its wielder into Elektra’s path. “We’ve got this!” you shouted. “Go!”

Laura glanced at you, her lip curling into a snarl as she slashed through another attacker. “Make sure they don’t screw it up.”

You smirked. “Like I’d let them.”

Logan heard you, but he didn’t turn back. He didn’t want to. Seeing you fight like this, kill like this, wasn’t something he could reconcile. In his world, you wouldn’t have hurt a fly, let alone taken a life. And yet, here you were, effortlessly carving through Cassandra’s forces like you’d been doing it your whole life.

“Seriously,” Wade panted as they reached the top of the stairs, “how are you not having, like, a major existential crisis right now? I mean, you’re watching your not-wife turn into a murder machine. That’s gotta mess with your head.”

“Shut up, Wade,” Logan growled.

Meanwhile, the five of you stood in front of the stairs, bloodied and battle-worn. Blade smirked, flicking blood from his sword with a casual shake of his wrist. “Heh. Some motherfuckers still trying to ice skate uphill.”

There wasn’t time for banter. Cassandra’s remaining minions surged toward you like a swarm. You darted forward, Laura beside you, the two of you moving as a deadly unit.

“On your left!” you shouted, swinging your baton in a sharp arc to deflect a blade aimed at Laura’s ribs.

“Got it,” Laura replied, ducking low and slashing through the attacker’s legs before finishing with a swift upward strike.

The chaos of battle roared around you, but your focus locked on the figure in the center. He was barreling through the fray, tossing bodies like rag dolls.

“Mom, we take him together,” Laura called, already moving toward him.

You nodded, gripping your batons tightly. “Go high; I’ll go low!”

As you charged, Juggernaut swung his massive fists toward you. You ducked under one blow, the force of it creating a shockwave that rattled your teeth. Laura leaped over the other, her claws slashing across his arm. Sparks flew as her adamantium claws met his reinforced suit.

“Damn it,” Laura growled, flipping back to avoid his retaliatory strike.

“Helmet,” you reminded her, dodging another swing.

“Working on it!” she snapped, lunging forward again.

You feinted left, drawing his attention, while Laura climbed his back like a feral animal, her claws digging into the material. Juggernaut roared in frustration, reaching back to grab her, but you jabbed your baton into the back of his knee, sending him stumbling forward.

“Keep him down!” Laura shouted, her claws ripping through the side of his helmet.

“Trying!” you yelled, slamming your baton into his other knee. The impact sent a jolt through your arm, but it was enough to drop him to one knee.

Laura didn’t hesitate. She yanked his helmet free and flung it toward you. “Catch!”

You grabbed it mid-air and shoved it into Laura’s backpack. “Got it!”

Juggernaut let out a guttural roar, swinging wildly in an attempt to regain control. Before he could stand, Laura’s claws flashed, slicing clean through his neck. His head toppled to the ground with a sickening thud, and his massive body collapsed seconds later.

“Nice work,” you panted, wiping sweat from your brow.

“Don’t get cocky,” Laura replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her face.

The two of you turned your attention to the giant Ant-Man helmet, Cassandra’s lair. Laura adjusted the backpack on her shoulders you handed her and glanced at you. “Boost me.”

You crouched, lacing your fingers together. Laura stepped into your hands, and you launched her upward. She caught onto the edge of the massive helmet, her foot claws extending as she began scaling the structure.

“Almost there,” she called down.

You stayed on guard, fending off any straggling minions who dared approach. Laura reached the top, pulling the backpack from her shoulder and tossed it into the lair where Wade grabbed it.

“Catch that?” she asked.

“Perfect throw,” you replied, knocking out a soldier with a swift elbow strike.

Before Laura could climb down, one of Cassandra’s soldiers used a psychic lasso, yanking her down. She fell, twisting mid-air to land on her feet, but more minions rushed toward her.

“Laura!” you shouted, moving to intercept them.

“I’m fine!” she snapped, slashing through one of the attackers. “Just keep them off me!”

The group fought with renewed vigor as the minions closed in. Elektra moved like a blur, her sais spinning with lethal precision. Blade fought alongside her, his katana carving through the enemy ranks. Remy flicked charged cards into clusters of soldiers, the explosions creating openings for you and Laura to strike.

The battle reached its peak when a low, rumbling growl filled the air. You looked up to see a massive dark cloud—Alioth. It loomed closer, its ominous presence sending chills down your spine.

“All clear!” Blade shouted as the last of Cassandra’s minions fell.

You exchanged a glance with Laura, both of you breathing heavily. “Let’s move!”

The air shimmered as a glowing portal opened above you. You watched as Wade and Logan jumped through it, disappearing into the unknown.

You felt a pang of something—loss, maybe?—as you saw Logan vanish, but you pushed it aside. There was no time to dwell on it.

Especially when not even moments later, orange doors appeared in front of you.

---

“So, how does it feel to be in the past, Sparky?” Wade asked you, putting an arm over your shoulder.

You promptly shoved it off, “don’t call me that, suka.”

Wade let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you’d just stabbed him. “Ouch, that hurt, Sparky. Right in the feelings.”

You gave him a look. “Try again, Wilson.”

“Fine, fine.” He sighed, adjusting Dogpool in his arms. The little thing was fast asleep, drooling all over Wade’s sleeve. “But you gotta admit, it fits. You know, because of the—” He made an exaggerated exploding motion with his fingers.

Laura rolled her eyes. “Can we just go? I’d rather not stand in the middle of a parking lot looking like a rejected Suicide Squad lineup.”

“I don’t know, I think we make it work,” Wade said, waving a hand between the three of you. “Got the grumpy old man, the feral murder daughter, and the ex—” He stopped himself, side-eyeing you before clearing his throat. “—the badass chick with secrets. Feels like a sitcom waiting to happen.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just get us where we need to go, Wilson.”

“Alright, alright. Welcome to Casa de Deadpool—where the beer is warm, the floors are sticky, and the roommates are blind. Follow me.”

Wade led the way, humming some off-key tune while you, Logan, and Laura followed. You glanced at Logan. His face was unreadable, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. He hadn’t said much since the fight, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He wasn’t your Logan. You weren’t his Y/N. But still… it was hard not to see the familiarity in his face, the way his brow furrowed just so, the way his jaw clenched when he was thinking too hard about something.

You looked away. No point in getting caught up in what-ifs.

“Alright, home sweet home!” Wade announced, throwing the door open.

The inside was… exactly what you expected. Empty pizza boxes, half-drunk bottles of something questionable, and the faint smell of something that had probably died under the couch.

Blind Al sat in her usual spot, her head tilting slightly in your direction. “Oh great, more people. Just what I needed.”

“Oh, don’t be rude, Al,” Wade scolded. “These are my very special guests. We’ve got Grumpy Claws, Murder Jr., and Timey-Wimey.”

“I’m not calling them that.”

“You don’t have to, but the audience will.”

Al sighed, clearly used to Wade’s antics. “Are they staying?”

“Just for a bit,” Wade said, tossing Dogpool onto the couch, where he immediately curled up. “Logan here needs a drink, and I’m guessing these two need a place to not be hunted by crazy bald ladies in giant Ant-Man skeletons.”

Al’s head tilted toward Logan. “You drinking my whiskey?”

“...Maybe.”

“Then you can sleep outside.”

Laura smirked, and you huffed a quiet laugh. Logan just shook his head, muttering something under his breath.

You leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “So what now?”

Wade clapped his hands together. “Now? We celebrate. We drink. We unwind from our very successful murder spree. And then, bright and early tomorrow—” He paused, leaning in like he was about to share some big, dramatic secret. “—we figure out what the fuck to do with you guys.”

“I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen. I have some money stashed somewhere, I’ll go get it, come back, then me and Laura can leave so we never have to see your faces again.” You said.

Wade let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Leave? Leave? Y/N, honey, sweetheart, my beloved time-traveling murder mom—why would you ever want to leave me?” He clutched his chest like you’d just driven a knife into his heart.

Laura crossed her arms. “I can think of about twenty reasons.”

“Okay, rude.” Wade pouted, shifting Dogpool in his arms. The little thing let out a content sigh, completely unbothered by the chaos. “But seriously, you’re gonna take off just like that? No heart-to-heart? No teary-eyed goodbye? No passionate ‘will-they-won’t-they’ moment with Grumpy Claws over there?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not interested.”

“Are you sure?” He wiggled his eyebrows, then pointed at Logan, who had yet to say a word. “Because that face screams tension.”

Logan let out a long breath through his nose, like he was physically restraining himself from punching Wade in the throat. “I’m not dealin’ with this shit right now.”

Wade gave him finger guns. “That’s a tomorrow problem, huh, bud?”

Logan ignored him. Instead, he looked at you. “This money you’re talkin’ about—where is it?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t trust you to go off alone, get it, and come back in one piece.”

Laura scoffed. “She can handle herself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Logan said, looking at her before turning his attention back to you. “But I ain’t gonna let you run off and get yourself killed when we just finished dealin’ with enough shit.”

You stared at him for a long moment. The way he was looking at you—it was careful, measured, like he was trying to keep himself in check. You knew that look. Your Logan used to look at you the same way. Like he was always preparing himself to lose you.

But this Logan wasn’t yours. And you weren’t his.

Still, you looked away first. “It’s in a lockbox at a storage facility a few miles from here.”

“Great,” Wade said, clapping his hands together. “Field trip!”

“No.” You turned to Logan. “I’ll go. Alone.”

“Not happenin’.”

“Logan—”

“No.” His voice was firm, final. “I’ll go with you.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Fine. Just let me freshen up.” You walked off to where you hoped the bathroom was, but not before mouthing, “parar” to Laura.

You locked the bathroom door behind you, glancing around the small, cluttered space. Wade’s idea of ‘freshening up’ probably involved nothing more than spraying deodorant over questionable hygiene decisions, but you had other plans.

Stepping up to the sink, you turned the faucet on, letting the water run just to make it sound like you were actually doing something in here. Then, moving quickly, you flipped the lock on the window and shoved it open. The cool night air hit your face as you glanced outside—an alley, empty except for a couple of overturned trash cans.

Perfect.

You hoisted yourself up, slipping through with practiced ease before lowering yourself down onto the pavement below. The moment your feet hit the ground, you took off down the alley, keeping to the shadows.

Back inside, Laura leaned against the wall near Wade’s stained couch, arms crossed as she watched Logan shift impatiently.

“She takin’ a damn shower in there?” Logan grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

“She said she was freshening up,” Laura replied casually, not looking up from the knife she was idly flipping between her fingers.

Logan huffed. “It’s been long enough. I’m gettin’ her.”

Laura didn’t move as he pushed off the wall and headed for the bathroom. The moment he reached for the doorknob, she spoke.

“You should wait,” she said.

Logan shot her a look over his shoulder. “Why?”

Laura finally looked up, her expression unreadable. “Just ‘cause.”

That made Logan pause. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between her and the closed bathroom door. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Kid,” he said, his voice low and edged with suspicion, “where’d she really go?”

Laura met his gaze evenly. “She’ll be back.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “Damn it.” He turned, pushing the bathroom door open with enough force to slam it against the wall. The running faucet mocked him, the open window sealing the truth of it.

“She ditched us,” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

Wade peered in behind him. “Oof. Classic Sparky move. You love to see it.”

Logan turned on his heel, his glare cutting through Wade like a knife. “Where’d she go?”

Wade shrugged dramatically. “Beats me. But if I had to guess? Probably somewhere far away from your grumpy ass.”

Logan growled, storming back into the room. “Damn stubborn—” He turned to Laura. “You knew.”

She didn’t flinch under his stare. “Yeah.”

His fists clenched, frustration mounting. “And you let her go?”

“She can handle herself,” Laura said simply.

“That ain’t the point,” Logan snapped.

“Then what is?”

Logan opened his mouth, then shut it. What was the point? That he didn’t want her runnin’ off alone? That the thought of her out there, possibly in danger, made his gut twist?

“She’ll be fine,” Laura said again. “She’ll be back before you know it.”

Logan shot her a sharp look. “And you knew she was gonna pull this shit?”

Laura didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Damn stubborn woman.”

Wade, now comfortably sprawled on the couch, feet kicked up on the armrest, wiggled his fingers dramatically. “Aw, look at you, all worked up. It’s almost like you care.”

Logan glared at him. “Shut the hell up.”

Wade gasped, hand over his heart. “Ouch! That’s no way to talk to your bestest buddy in the whole world. You know, if you keep scowling like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Logan ignored him, turning back to Laura. “Where’d she go?”

Laura shrugged. “She didn’t say.”

“Bullshit,” Logan growled. “She told you something.”

Laura arched a brow. “Even if mom did, why would I tell you?”

Logan stepped forward, voice dropping low. “Because she’s out there alone, and I don’t trust her not to get herself into trouble.”

Laura tilted her head. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Logan clenched his teeth, nostrils flaring. “Damn kid’s just as bad as she is.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Wade, now peeling an old banana he found on the coffee table, piped up. “Look, let’s be real here—Sparky probably ditched us so she could do some shady, assassin-y, Black Widow type shit. Maybe she’s robbing a bank! Maybe she’s breaking into a top-secret government facility! Maybe she’s meeting a mysterious lover who—”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve melted steel.

“Or,” Wade continued, grinning, “maybe she’s just getting her money so she can take Little Miss Stabby Hands here and leave your grumpy ass behind.”

Logan’s jaw tightened.

Wade snapped his fingers. “Ohhh, there it is. That realization. That little pang in your chest. That Oh no, I don’t want her to leave feeling.”

Logan ignored him. “She said somethin’ about a storage facility,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “A few miles from here.”

Laura sighed. “And now you’re gonna go after her?”

“Damn right, I am.”

“She doesn’t want you to.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Laura watched him for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. But don’t get all dramatic when she punches you for following her.”

Wade sat up, tossing his banana peel over his shoulder. “Ooooh, I gotta see this. Road trip!”

Logan grabbed his jacket off the chair, shooting Wade a glare. “You’re stayin’ here.”

Wade pouted. “Rude.”

Laura smirked. “Good luck.”

Logan muttered something under his breath and stormed toward the door, already regretting whatever the hell he was about to do.

---

You hadn’t been at this storage facility in almost 2 decades, from before you joined the x-men. It was a standard procedure, you left large amounts of cash, fake id’s, and weapons hidden in almost every major city.

The lock clicked open with a soft beep, and you tossed it onto the floor, pushing the storage unit door up. The metal groaned as it rolled upward, revealing the small space packed neatly with everything you’d left behind years ago—cash, fake IDs, weapons, emergency supplies. It was all still there, untouched.

You exhaled through your nose. Good. This would be enough to get you and Laura far away from New York.

You crouched down, lifting a duffel bag from the pile, zipping it open. Stacks of cash, bundled and secure, sat inside. Grabbing a few more rolls, you stuffed them in before reaching for one of the smaller, locked cases in the back. Inside were passports, IDs, credit cards—everything you’d need to disappear.

Your fingers brushed over one of the old IDs. It was worn from time but still legible. A name you hadn’t used in years. A version of yourself that no longer existed.

“Never thought I’d see you here.”

The voice sent a jolt up your spine. You knew it before you even turned around.

Logan.

You let out a slow breath before standing, keeping your expression neutral as you turned to face him. He stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his gaze flickering between you and the duffel bag.

“Took you long enough,” you muttered, zipping the bag closed.

He stepped inside, boots heavy against the concrete. “Could say the same about you,” he replied. “Sneaking out like that. Real subtle.”

You slung the bag over your shoulder. “Wasn’t trying to be subtle. Just effective.”

Logan scoffed. “Right. And this little errand of yours—it’s just about gettin’ cash?”

“That’s exactly what it is.” You met his eyes, unwavering. “I came here to get what I need. Then I’m leaving.”

His jaw tightened. “And by ‘leaving,’ you mean what? Takin’ off across the country? Across the world?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yeah,” he said sharply. “It does.”

You clenched your jaw, adjusting the bag strap. “Not to you.”

Logan’s brows furrowed, a flicker of something in his eyes—frustration, maybe something else. “You really think I don’t give a shit?”

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Logan—”

“No, you listen,” he cut in, stepping closer. “You don’t wanna stick around, fine. You wanna take off with the kid, start fresh? I get it. But you don’t get to act like I don’t care.”

You looked away, pressing your lips together.

“I know I ain’t him,” Logan continued, voice lower now. “And you ain’t her. But that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna let you walk away without sayin’ a damn word.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down. “Fine.” You walked out of the unit and picked up the lock you’d tossed to the floor. You threw it toward Logan, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice. “Mind lockin’ up for me? Thanks.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and headed down the narrow hallway, duffel bag weighing on your shoulder. You knew he’d follow. Hell, part of you expected it. Still, you kept your pace brisk, eyes forward, determined not to let him see the mess of emotions churning behind your calm façade.

Sure enough, you heard his footsteps closing in on you just a few seconds later. “Hey,” he called, his tone halfway between annoyed and concerned, “hold up.”

You didn’t stop. “I don’t recall askin’ for backup, Logan.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, voice low, “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Rolling your eyes, you quickened your stride. “This is none of your business. I just need what’s in that storage unit. Then I’m done.”

“Done with what?” He stayed right on your heels. “You keep sayin’ you’re leaving, but leaving for where?”

“Somewhere that isn’t here,” you shot back, pushing open the heavy exit door. The chill of the evening air hit you like a slap, but you welcomed it. At least it was better than the stale, fluorescent-lit corridor.

Logan grabbed the door before it slammed shut, following you outside. “And what about Laura?”

“What about her?” You spun around to face him, jaw tight. “She’s comin’ with me. That’s it. We’ve both been through enough.”

“Enough of what, exactly?” His gaze flicked to the duffel bag. “You got money, IDs, weapons in there? Where’re you even plannin’ on goin’?”

You tightened your grip on the strap, resisting the urge to throw a punch at the damn question. “Somewhere quiet. A place we can actually live. Maybe not a perfect life, but a life that’s ours, away from… all of this. Away from Wade and the insanity he brings. Away from you.”

Logan’s expression clouded, though he tried to mask it behind a scowl. “Could just as easily do that in New York. Wade might be a pain in the ass, but he’s not forcing you to stay.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Because it’s so easy, right? Laura and I just hole up in some apartment, pretend everything’s normal when half the city’s got vigilantes flyin’ around? When there are still people lookin’ for us—always will be?” You shook your head, glancing at the ground. “No. We’re done with that.”

He took a step closer, voice lowering. “So that’s it. You’re gonna vanish and start over. Another new name, new ID, new everything.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter of guilt. “Worked before. It’ll work again.”

For a second, you both fell silent. A car drove by in the distance, headlights flashing across the storage facility’s cracked walls. You squared your shoulders, forcing yourself not to look at him. The way he studied your face was too familiar, too painful.

Finally, Logan cleared his throat. “I know I’m not him.” His tone had lost some of its edge. “I’m not your Logan, and you’re not… mine. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to stand here and watch you self-destruct.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. “Self-destruct?” you echoed, voice trembling with anger. “That’s rich, comin’ from the guy who’s been drinking himself into oblivion every night since I laid eyes on him.”

He clenched his jaw, but he didn’t deny it. “I’m not sayin’ I got my shit together. I’m sayin’ you don’t have to do this alone.”

“How ‘bout you cut the crap,” you fired back. “We don’t know each other. We’re strangers. I’ve known you for, what, two days? I’m doing what’s best for my daughter. And if that includes taking her out of this state, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his patience fraying at the edges. “You really think you can just pack up and disappear?”

You tightened your grip on the duffel bag, your stance unwavering. “Worked before.”

“That’s not an answer.” He stepped closer, his voice low, edged with frustration. “You’re actin’ like I’m some kinda obstacle. Like I’m one more thing you gotta shake off before you can breathe easy.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what you are.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you cold.

“You’re runnin’,” he said.

You exhaled sharply, spinning back around. “I am not running.”

“Feels like you are.”

“No, Logan, you don’t get it.” Your voice sharpened, cutting through the tension like a blade. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Wade. This is about Laura. About what we need.”

Logan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “And what? You think ditchin’ the only people who’ve got your back is the answer?”

“I think getting away from this life—your life—is the answer.”

Something shifted in his expression, something bitter and tired. “So that’s it? You wanna go play house somewhere, pretend none of this ever happened?”

You squared your shoulders, forcing yourself not to flinch at the weight of his words. “No one’s pretending anything. I just don’t want to look over my shoulder every damn day.”

Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “Yeah? And what happens when the past catches up to you? Because it always does.”

You stepped forward, closing the space between you. “Then I’ll deal with it. But I’m done doing it your way.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The night air pressed in, thick with everything left unsaid. Logan’s gaze burned into you, searching, waiting. But you didn’t give him the answer he wanted.

He exhaled, looking away. “You’re makin’ a mistake.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But it’s mine to make.”

Logan clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. You half expected him to argue, to push, to demand something from you. But instead, he just nodded, stepping aside.

“Fine,” he said, voice gruff. “Do what you gotta do.”

You didn’t linger. Didn’t give yourself time to second-guess. You adjusted the strap on your shoulder and walked past him without another word.

As you disappeared into the night, Logan stayed where he was, fists clenched, jaw tight. Watching.

Letting you go.

---

The car you bought from a used-car dealership was silent, other than the radio softly playing pop music that Laura liked as she stared out the window, her sunglasses over her eyes.

You had just exited the New York City traffic and were heading south—but other than that, you didn’t know where you were going. Maybe you would stop somewhere in Pennsylvania, or West Virgina if you were lucky.

Laura tapped her fingers against her knee in rhythm with the song playing on the radio, her sunglasses perched on her nose as she stared out the window. The highway stretched ahead, empty except for a few distant cars.

"You know where we're stopping?" she asked, her tone casual, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity.

You kept your hands on the wheel, eyes scanning the road ahead. "Not yet. Somewhere quiet, somewhere we can lay low for a bit."

Laura tilted her head slightly, still watching the trees blur past. "So, nowhere specific."

"Nowhere specific," you confirmed.

She nodded, letting a few moments pass before speaking again. "You think he's following us?"

You exhaled through your nose, gripping the wheel a little tighter. "Probably."

Laura hummed. "You gonna punch him if he shows up?"

You smirked. "Maybe."

Laura smirked back, adjusting her sunglasses. "Can I watch?"

"If he pushes his luck, I'll make sure you get front-row seats."

Silence settled between you, only broken by the soft hum of the music and the occasional sound of the tires on the road.

Then, Laura spoke again, her voice quieter. "You sure about this?"

You glanced at her briefly before turning back to the road. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "Just… we’ve been running for a long time. Feels like that’s all we ever do. What happens when we stop?"

Your fingers flexed on the wheel. "Then we figure it out."

Laura nodded slowly, like she was mulling it over. Then, after a beat, she said, "We’re out of snacks."

You snorted. "I’ll stop at the next gas station."

"Good." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "But if he shows up, I’m picking the next destination."

"Deal," you said.

Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew Logan would catch up eventually. The only question was when.

---

“Whaddya think about Florida?” you asked, swirling your milkshake with the red-and-white striped straw. After two days of driving, you and Laura had landed in Nashville—not exactly planned, but necessary. The money situation was getting tight, and you had a stash here.

Laura sat across from you in the dingy diner booth, picking at the fries on her plate. Her sunglasses were still on, even though the place was dimly lit, the neon “Open 24 Hours” sign flickering against the window beside you.

She shrugged. “Kinda humid, isn’t it?”

You snorted. “That’s your issue with Florida?”

She popped a fry into her mouth. “I don’t like humidity.”

“Well, we’re runnin’ out of options,” you said, taking another sip of your milkshake. “I’d rather not head west, too many people I don’t wanna run into. And the north? I’m done with the cold.”

Laura considered that, chewing thoughtfully. “So, Florida.”

“Yeah.”

She tapped her fingers against the table. “Ever been?”

“A couple times,” you admitted. “But never long enough to get comfortable.”

Laura leaned back, arms crossed. “What’s in Florida?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Hopefully? A quiet place. Some space. Enough cash to keep us moving if we need to.”

Laura was quiet for a beat, then said, “And what if we don’t need to?”

Your hand froze over your cup. You looked up at her, but she wasn’t looking at you—she was staring at her plate, pushing a fry around in the ketchup.

You exhaled, setting your drink down. “Then we don’t.”

Laura didn’t say anything, but she nodded slightly, like she was mulling it over.

You let the silence settle for a moment before reaching into your jacket pocket and pulling out a small envelope. You slid it across the table.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Fake IDs. A couple different names for you, just in case.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Where’s yours?”

You smirked. “I’ve been doin’ this longer than you, muñeca. Mine are already handled.”

Laura picked up the envelope, flipping through the IDs. Her lips twitched when she landed on one. “Carla?”

You rolled your eyes. “It was short notice.”

Laura shook her head, stuffing the envelope into her pocket. “How much cash do we have left?”

“Enough to get us a motel for the night,” you said. “Then I’ll hit the stash in the morning, and we’ll go from there.”

She tapped her nails against the table. “And if someone’s watching it?”

You took another sip of your milkshake. “Then I deal with it.”

Laura didn’t argue, but she gave you a look.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You sure you don’t want him to come after us?”

You froze for half a second before scoffing. “Logan?”

Laura shrugged, popping another fry in her mouth. “I mean, it’d be kinda funny. Watching him all pissed off, trying to track us down.”

You smirked. “I’d give it a day before he gave up and found a bar instead.”

Laura chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah. Probably.”

The conversation shifted after that—lighter, easier. You finished your food, paid in cash, and headed back to the car.

As you pulled onto the empty road, Laura leaned back against the passenger seat, her feet propped up on the dashboard. “If we go to Florida, I’m picking the first place we stop.”

“Deal.”

The road stretched ahead, dark and open, with nothing but the hum of the engine and the occasional song crackling from the radio.

For now, it was enough.

---

The Florida heat wasn’t as unbearable as you’d expected. It was different from the suffocating summers in New York or the bone-chilling winters in Canada. Here, everything moved slower—the ocean waves rolling onto the sand, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the distant hum of cicadas at night. For the first time in a long time, you and Laura weren’t running.

The job at the high school had been a last-minute decision, something stable to keep you grounded. It wasn’t hard work—not compared to everything else you’d done in your life. Wrangling teenagers in gym class was nothing compared to dodging bullets or teaching mutant children to use their powers. And Laura? She was doing good. She got her GED, started talking about what she wanted to do next. It was a normal life, or as close as either of you could get to one.

You leaned back in your chair on the porch, the scent of saltwater drifting through the air. Laura was sitting across from you, flipping through a book while picking at the remnants of her dinner.

"You gonna eat that or just mutilate it?" you asked, raising a brow at the half-demolished slice of pizza on her plate.

Laura shrugged, still looking at her book. "Not hungry."

You snorted, reaching over and stealing a piece of crust. "Then quit wasting good food."

She kicked your shin under the table, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make a point. "I was getting to it."

"Sure you were." You chewed the crust, glancing out at the ocean beyond the dunes. The sky was starting to darken, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting everything in shades of orange and pink.

Laura shut her book with a soft thud. "You think he's still looking for us?"

You didn’t need to ask who she meant. "Probably."

She rested her chin in her hand. "You miss him?"

The question made you pause, your fingers tightening slightly around the crust before you set it down. "I don’t know."

Laura gave you a look. "Liar."

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "It’s complicated."

"It always is with you two."

You huffed out a quiet laugh. "And how would you know?"

Laura smirked. "Because you get that look whenever I bring him up."

You frowned. "What look?"

"The one you’re making right now."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. "Even if I did miss him—which I don’t—it wouldn’t matter. He’s not the same Logan, and I’m not sticking around to see if he turns into him."

Laura was quiet for a moment before she said, "He still came after us."

"Yeah, and?"

"And that means something."

You shook your head. "It means he’s stubborn."

"Or it means he cares."

You scoffed. "He knew us for two days."

Laura shrugged. "Sometimes that’s enough."

You didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, you picked at the label on your beer bottle, watching the condensation roll down the glass.

After a while, Laura stood up, stretching. "I’m going to bed."

You nodded, not looking up. "Night, muñeca."

She hesitated for a second. "You’d tell me if you wanted to go back, right?"

You finally looked at her, meeting her eyes. "I don’t want to go back."

Laura studied you for a moment before nodding. "Okay."

She disappeared inside, leaving you alone with the sound of the waves and the quiet hum of your thoughts.

You didn’t want to go back.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t expect him to show up.

---

He showed up.

You were walking out of the store, picking up some more food since Laura ate a lot, when you saw him across the street, talking to some guy.

It was clear he hadn’t seen you—if he did, it would’ve been a miracle, spotting you in a parking lot full of suburban moms and their SUV’s. You quickly put the final bag in the trunk and closed it, getting into the driver’s seat, glad that an SUV was blocking the window, and of course that you were wearing a wig.

You scrolled through your phone, quickly looking up plane tickets before purchasing two for Anaheim, California, which left in three hours. It would be a short trip, long enough to take Laura out to Disneyland—somewhere she wanted to go when she was younger, and maybe see the sights before coming back.

With the tickets secured, you tossed your phone onto the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel, exhaling slowly. You could still see Logan across the street, standing near a bar, talking to some guy you didn’t recognize. His stance was the same as always—broad, solid, like he was ready for a fight even when there wasn’t one. You couldn’t tell if he was actively looking for you or if it was just dumb luck that put him in the same town. Either way, it didn’t matter.

You put the car in drive, pulling out of the parking lot with careful ease. No sudden movements. No panic. You were good at this—disappearing.

By the time you got home, Laura was already sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels with half a bag of chips resting on her stomach. She barely glanced up when you walked in.

"Got food," you said, setting the bags on the counter.

"About time," Laura muttered, grabbing another chip. "I was starting to think you got lost or arrested."

"Very funny," you deadpanned, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "Pack a bag."

That got her attention. She sat up, eyeing you with suspicion. "For what?"

"California," you answered, twisting the cap off your bottle. "Leaving in a few hours."

Laura blinked. "Wait… what?"

"You heard me," you said, taking a sip. "Disneyland. Quick trip."

She narrowed her eyes. "You saw him, didn’t you?"

You paused mid-drink before lowering the bottle. "Doesn’t matter."

"That’s a yes," she muttered, tossing the remote onto the couch. "You’re seriously dragging me to Disneyland just to avoid him?"

"I’m taking you to Disneyland because I promised," you corrected. "Avoiding him is just a bonus."

Laura folded her arms. "You know he’s gonna find us eventually."

"Probably," you admitted, leaning against the counter. "But not today."

Laura exhaled through her nose, clearly debating whether or not to argue. Finally, she stood up, brushing chip crumbs off her shirt.

"I’m picking the first ride," she said.

You smirked. "Deal."

---

The airport was busy but not unbearable. You and Laura moved through security without issue, your fake IDs holding up just as they always did. It was second nature at this point. The two of you boarded the plane, settling into your seats with practiced ease.

Laura put her headphones in, shutting the world out almost immediately. You, on the other hand, couldn’t quite relax. You had that feeling again—that gnawing sense that you were being watched, even when you knew you weren’t.

Logan would look for you. You knew that much. But you also knew how to stay ahead of him.

For now, at least.

You leaned back in your seat, closing your eyes. Just a few days away. That was all you needed.

Just a few days.

---

“Wade,” Logan growled into the phone. “Your contact was fucking useless. They’re not here.”

There was a pause on the other end before Wade let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh no! You mean my totally legitimate, not-at-all shady informant lied? Color me shocked.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “You told me they were still in Florida.”

“Well, yeah, because I thought they were,” Wade replied, his voice way too casual. “Turns out, your little murder mom and stabby daughter are really good at vanishing. Who knew?”

Logan clenched his jaw, his patience wearing dangerously thin. “Did you actually talk to this guy, or did you just pull a name outta your ass and hope for the best?”

“Okay, first of all, rude,” Wade said. “Second of all, I did talk to him. And third of all, I’m beginning to think you have trust issues.”

Logan let out a low growl, glancing around the dimly lit parking lot. He had been following a lead for hours, only to find himself at a dead end. Again. “You got anything else, Wilson, or am I wasting my time?”

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking me—”

“I wasn’t.”

“Fair,” Wade admitted. “But if I had to guess—and I am very good at guessing—I’d say Y/N is doing what she does best.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, already annoyed by whatever bullshit answer was coming.

“Running.”

Logan’s grip on the phone tightened. He knew it was true, even before Wade said it. He had seen enough of you to know your patterns, and disappearing was your specialty.

Still, something about it didn’t sit right. You had said goodbye. He just hadn’t wanted you to go.

“So what’s your next move, grumpy pants?” Wade asked.

Logan exhaled sharply, kicking at a loose rock on the pavement. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, I do,” Wade said. “You stop chasing her like a crazy ex-boyfriend and let her live her life.”

Logan ignored the jab. “They ain’t safe on their own.”

“Oh, please,” Wade scoffed. “Y/N could take both of us in a fight with one hand tied behind her back. And Laura? That kid is a human blender with anger issues. What exactly are you worried about?”

Logan didn’t answer.

Wade sighed dramatically. “Look, I get it. You’ve got feelings—gross. But maybe, just maybe, you should consider that she doesn’t want to be found.”

Logan clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

“Or, you know, keep chasing her,” Wade continued. “Nothing screams ‘healthy relationship’ like stalking.”

Logan ended the call without another word.

He stood there for a moment, jaw tight, before slipping his phone back into his pocket. His eyes scanned the quiet street, but there was nothing. No sign of you.

Not yet, anyway.

---

It was the first time in a while—months—that you saw Laura this happy. Being in the Void had been hard on both of you, but now, as you walked around Disneyland with Mickey Mouse ears perched on your head and a churro in hand, things felt lighter.

Laura, wearing her own pair of ears, pointed toward one of the bigger roller coasters. “That one.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of your churro. “You sure? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” she asked, arms crossed.

“The look you get when you won’t admit you’re nervous.”

Laura scoffed, turning toward the ride again. “I’m not nervous.”

You smirked. “Uh-huh.”

“Are we going or not?”

You chewed thoughtfully, glancing up at the towering structure of the coaster. “I dunno. I’m kinda enjoying this churro.”

Laura grabbed your wrist and started dragging you toward the line. “You can eat and walk.”

You laughed, letting her pull you along. “Pushy.”

As the two of you weaved through the crowd, the excitement buzzing in the air was infectious. Kids in princess dresses, parents trying to wrangle toddlers, and groups of friends laughing between bites of overpriced snacks. It was normal.

By the time you reached the front of the line, Laura was practically bouncing on her heels.

“You gonna scream?” you teased, nudging her.

She shot you a look. “No.”

You snorted. “We’ll see.”

The ride operator waved you forward, and you both climbed into the seats, pulling the safety bars down.

As the coaster lurched forward, Laura gripped the handlebar a little tighter.

You smirked. “Told you.”

She didn’t have time to retort before the coaster shot up the first incline. The wind rushed past you, the clanking of the tracks beneath adding to the anticipation. Then, the drop.

Laura let out a yell—not quite a scream, but close enough.

You threw your hands up, laughing. “Told you!”

“Shut up!”

The ride twisted and turned, the loops pulling at your stomach in a way that was both exhilarating and oddly grounding. For those few minutes, there was no running, no fighting—just pure, unfiltered fun.

When the ride finally slowed, Laura’s breathing was slightly heavier, her face flushed from the rush. You grinned at her. “Admit it, that was fun.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

As you stepped off the ride and made your way back into the park, Laura bumped her shoulder against yours. “Okay, you pick the next one.”

You took another bite of your churro, already eyeing the spinning teacups. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

---

The fireworks exploded in bursts of color, painting the night sky over Disneyland. The crowd around you and Laura watched in awe, gasps and murmurs of excitement filling the air. Laura sat cross-legged on the grass, her arms resting on her knees as she stared up at the display.

"You know," you said, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "when I was your age, I never got to do this kind of thing."

Laura glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "Watch fireworks?"

"Have a normal night," you corrected. You leaned back on your hands, feeling the cool grass beneath your palms. "Theme parks, vacations, junk food... not exactly things you get when you're trained to kill people before you hit puberty."

Laura hummed in acknowledgment, turning her gaze back to the sky. "Guess we’ve got that in common."

You exhaled through your nose, nodding. "Yeah. But at least we’re here now."

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the fireworks crackle above her. Then, almost reluctantly, she said, "It’s weird."

"What is?"

"Not having to fight," she admitted. "Being... normal."

You tilted your head, watching her carefully. "Do you like it?"

Laura shrugged, pulling at a loose thread on her jeans. "Yeah. I think so."

You smiled, though she wasn’t looking at you. "Good."

The fireworks continued, shimmering reflections dancing across Laura’s sunglasses. The two of you sat in easy silence, the kind that didn’t need filling.

Eventually, Laura spoke again, quieter this time. "How did you and dad get together?”

You glanced at Laura, the question catching you off guard. She was still watching the fireworks, her expression neutral, but you knew her well enough to recognize when she was fishing for something.

You took a slow breath, leaning back on your hands. "That’s kind of a long story, kid."

Laura shrugged. "We’ve got time."

You huffed a small laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, I guess we do."

For a moment, you just watched the bursts of color in the sky, letting the memories settle in before you spoke. "When Ororo first brought me to the mansion I had heard stories of the X-Men—and of the Wolverine. I kinda hated them all at first, how they were able to live an almost normal life even though they were all mutants.”

You shrugged, “took me a while to get used to them—to tolerate them. Took me the longest to get used to Logan though.”

Laura glanced at you, her expression unreadable behind her sunglasses. "Why?"

You let out a short breath, watching the last of the fireworks fade into the sky. “From the second I arrived he was always… there. Not in a ‘grumpy old man’ way like I thought he would be, but he would save me a spot for dinner, did the chores I didn’t want to do that Scott assigned me. Hell, he was the first person to show me Star Wars."

Laura turned her head toward you, adjusting her sunglasses. “Wait. You had never seen Star Wars before?”

You smirked. “Believe it or not, I had other things to do growing up.”

Laura hummed in response. After a moment, she said, “So, was that when you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That you loved him.”

You hesitated, watching as a little girl in a princess dress skipped past, holding her father’s hand.

“No,” you said finally. “Not then.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Then when?”

You thought about that for a second. “I don’t know. I guess all the gestures caught up to me. The way he wasn’t afraid to be around me like some of the others were. It wasn’t until one night when I snapped at him, asking him why he had been doing all this that he confessed.”

Laura shifted slightly, crossing her arms over her knees. "Confessed?"

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "Yeah. It wasn’t some big romantic moment. It was just… him being honest. Told me he wasn’t the type to say things out loud unless they meant something. Said he didn’t expect me to feel the same, but that he wasn’t gonna pretend he didn’t care."

Laura raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And… I kissed him," you admitted, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Told him he was an idiot for waiting so long to say it."

Laura scoffed. "Sounds about right."

You tilted your head, glancing at her. "What, you expected some fairytale confession? A love letter? Logan wasn’t that type of guy."

Laura shook her head. "No, I just… I don’t know. It’s weird thinking of him like that. Like, all soft."

"He wasn’t soft," you corrected. "He was still stubborn as hell, still grumpy, still fought me on just about everything. But he never made me doubt how he felt."

Laura was quiet for a moment, looking back up at the sky. "Guess that’s what matters."

"Yeah," you said softly, following her gaze. "It is."

A comfortable silence settled between you as the last of the fireworks fizzled out, leaving nothing but smoke trails and the distant hum of the park.

"So," Laura said after a moment, "if he never said anything that night, do you think you would've?"

You thought about that, your fingers tapping against your knee. "Eventually. But he beat me to it."

Laura nodded, processing that. "Good thing he did."

You smiled slightly. "Yeah. It was."

Another pause. Then, in a quieter voice, Laura asked, "Do you think you'd ever—" She stopped herself, shaking her head.

You turned to her. "What?"

"Nothing."

You studied her for a second before letting it go. Instead, you nudged her shoulder. "C'mon, we've got one last ride before the park closes. You promised I got to pick the next one."

Laura groaned but got to her feet anyway. "If it’s the teacups, I’m never forgiving you."

You grinned, standing up. "Guess you’ll have to find out."

As the two of you made your way through the thinning crowd, Laura side-eyed you. "You know, for someone who says they don’t like talking about the past, you sure didn’t shut up about it."

You shrugged. "Maybe you caught me in a good mood."

Laura smirked. "Or maybe you just like remembering the good parts."

You didn’t respond to that. You didn’t have to.

Because maybe she was right.

---

After coming back from Disneyland the lightness didn’t leave. Maybe because it was the first ‘normal’ thing you two had done in months—maybe ever. Just a mother and daughter enjoying their time together.

The grocery store was quiet for a weekday afternoon—just the usual crowd of retirees, moms wrangling their toddlers, and bored cashiers going through the motions. You moved through the aisles quickly, grabbing the essentials: eggs, bread, milk, and way too many snacks to keep up with Laura’s ridiculous metabolism.

You checked your list, crossing off the last item, before making your way toward the checkout. As you tossed the groceries onto the conveyor belt, you let yourself breathe. Things were steady. Normal.

Laura was getting comfortable, and, for the first time in a long time, so were you.

It wasn’t permanent—you knew that much. But for now, it was enough.

You grabbed a carton of ice cream, but something made you pause. That feeling. The faintest prickle at the back of your neck. The one that always hit when someone was watching you.

Cautiously, you moved closer to a nearby Employees Only doorway, keeping your expression neutral as you reached for a yogurt on the shelf. You adjusted your grip on the container, using the reflective surface of the glass door to scan the store behind you.

There.

A figure standing near the magazine rack, pretending to skim through an issue of Sports Illustrated. Too broad-shouldered to be just any guy, too stiff to be casual. You knew that build. That stance.

Logan.

Your stomach clenched, but you kept your movements easy, natural. It didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t still be here. You had been gone for days—long enough that he should’ve moved on, left Florida entirely. You had given him nothing to follow. No trail, no leads.

So how the hell did he find you?

You put the yogurt back, pretending to consider a different brand. The reflection shifted—Logan wasn’t at the magazine rack anymore. He was moving. Closer.

Before you could react, a hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward the Employees Only door.

Big mistake.

Years of training kicked in before you even thought about it. You twisted sharply, breaking the grip, and slammed the person into the wall inside the backroom. Your dagger was out in a flash, pressed firmly against their throat.

Logan.

His jaw was tight, eyes sharp but not surprised. He barely reacted to the blade at his neck, just met your gaze with that same unreadable expression.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

Your grip on the dagger tightened. “I should gut you for grabbing me like that.”

Logan arched a brow. “Go ahead. Might be the only way to get rid of me at this point.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, pissed but not at him. At yourself. Because you should’ve known he’d find you. You should’ve been more careful.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, your voice low.

Logan smirked slightly, like the answer was obvious. “Lookin’ for you.”

“Try again.”

He held your stare, his throat moving slightly under the blade. “Not here to fight, darlin’. Just talk.”

You scoffed. “That why you dragged me back here? Didn’t exactly scream ‘peaceful conversation.’”

“You were gonna bolt.”

“Damn right I was.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, his patience clearly thinning. “Can you put the knife down?”

You hesitated, then pressed it a little harder—not enough to break the skin, but enough to prove a point. “Give me one good reason.”

Logan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“That’s not a reason.”

He sighed, then, softer this time, “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Your stomach twisted, but you ignored it, stepping back as you lowered the dagger. Logan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as if he’d been expecting you to actually use it.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t thank me yet,” you shot back. “Because if you don’t explain yourself in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna drag your ass out of here and dump you in a very public place.”

Logan smirked, but there was something tired beneath it. “You sayin’ I can’t handle a crowd?”

“I’m sayin’ I don’t want to deal with security after I kick your ass in front of an audience.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, then leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. “Been lookin’ for you,” he admitted. “Figured you wouldn’t make it easy, but damn, Y/N.”

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t know I owed you a trail to follow.”

Logan’s jaw flexed, something flickering in his eyes. “You don’t. But that doesn’t mean I was just gonna let you disappear.”

Your fingers curled against your biceps. “Why not? That was the whole point of leaving, Logan.”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t think you actually wanna run.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know me.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Really? ‘Cause anytime your frustrated with me you get this,” Logan gently traced your skin with his thumb, “little crease between your brows—”

You grabbed his wrist, peeling it away from your face, your grip firm but careful. Logan didn’t resist, just watched you, his expression unreadable. His hand was rough, calloused—familiar and unfamiliar all at once. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“You don’t get to do that,” you said, voice low.

Logan tilted his head. “Do what?”

“Touch me like that.” You let go of his wrist, stepping back. “Like you know me.”

Logan let out a short breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I do know you.”

“No,” you corrected. “You know her.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, you thought he’d argue. Instead, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Alright. Maybe I don’t know this you. But I know enough.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah? And what exactly do you think you know?”

Logan’s eyes flickered over you, his expression softer now, more cautious. “I know you’re scared.”

Your stomach twisted. “Of you?”

“No,” he said simply. “Of this.”

You swallowed, your nails digging into your arms. “You’re reaching.”

Logan’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smirk. “Am I?”

You shook your head, turning toward the exit. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Yeah, you are,” Logan said, and you felt his presence behind you before he even moved. He wasn’t blocking your way, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the weight of his stare. “You can run all you want, sweetheart, but I’ll still be here.”

You gritted your teeth, turning on him. “Why?”

Logan held your gaze, his voice steady. “Because I don’t think you want to leave.”

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Don’t I?” He stepped closer, just enough to make your breath hitch. “If you really wanted to disappear, you would’ve done it by now. You know how. Hell, you’ve done it before. But you didn’t.”

“I took Laura to Disneyland,” you shot back. “Not exactly the best place to fall off the grid.”

Logan’s brow arched. “You sure that’s all it was?”

You hated how easily he was reading you—how he saw right through the excuses. He wasn’t wrong. You could’ve taken Laura anywhere. Could’ve changed your names again, disappeared into some far-off city where no one would find you. But you didn’t. Instead, you stayed just close enough. Close enough for him to find you.

Logan’s voice softened. “You keep tellin’ yourself you don’t want this, but you’re still here.”

Your throat tightened. “And what about you?”

Logan’s jaw ticked. “What about me?”

“You followed me,” you said. “I told you I was leaving. I told you I was done. And yet here you are.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, his gaze locked onto yours. “Yeah. Here I am.”

The silence stretched between you, thick with everything you weren’t saying. You hated the way your chest ached, the way his presence felt—not just familiar, but right. And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “You should’ve left.”

Logan didn’t flinch. “So should you.”

You clenched your jaw, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. This was dangerous. Not because Logan was a threat, but because he wasn’t. Because for the first time in a long time, someone had chased after you—and you didn’t know what to do with that.

Logan stepped back, giving you space. His expression was unreadable again, but his voice was softer this time. “I’m not gonna force you to stay.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet sigh. “But I’m not gonna pretend I don’t give a damn, either.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you turned, pushing the exit door open.

You didn’t look back.

But Logan didn’t stop you.

And somehow, that made it worse.

---

You brought the bags of groceries inside, the faint smell of lemon cleaner hitting your nose as you made your way to the kitchen. Laura was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through Netflix with the kind of lazy ease only she could manage.

“You clean?” you asked, setting the bags on the counter.

“Obviously,” she muttered, not looking away from the screen.

You arched a brow, glancing around. The place did look cleaner—the floors weren’t covered in her usual mess of books and abandoned socks, and the kitchen counter was actually visible.

“Wow,” you said, pulling out a carton of eggs. “Guess Disneyland really did change you.”

Laura scoffed. “I just got bored.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you started putting things away. “Whatever you say, muñeca.”

She finally glanced over, eyes narrowing. “You were gone a while.”

“Traffic,” you lied easily, shoving a loaf of bread into the cabinet.

Laura sat up, crossing her legs. “Liar.”

You shot her a look. “Excuse me?”

She tilted her head, studying you like she could see straight through you—which, knowing her, she probably could. “You saw him, didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on the milk you were putting in the fridge.

Laura sighed, rubbing her face. “God. And you didn’t deck him?”

“I didn’t exactly have time,” you muttered, shutting the fridge door with more force than necessary.

“So, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, turning to lean against the counter. “He was at the store. He grabbed me. We talked.”

Laura’s brows lifted. “He grabbed you?”

You waved a hand. “Not like that. He pulled me into a back room.”

“That sounds worse.”

“It wasn’t.” You exhaled, crossing your arms. “He just… wanted to talk.”

Laura scoffed, leaning back against the couch. “Right. Because Logan’s known for his communication skills.”

You smirked. “Yeah, well. He tried.”

Laura studied you again, her expression unreadable. “And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say?”

You hesitated, running your tongue along your teeth before answering. “That I don’t really want to run.”

Laura huffed a quiet laugh. “He’s not wrong.”

Your jaw tightened. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

She shrugged. “Never is.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here. He’ll move on.”

Laura hummed like she didn’t quite believe that. “If you say so.”

You pushed off the counter, deciding this conversation was over. “Go set the table. I’ll make dinner.”

Laura didn’t argue, just stood up and stretched before heading toward the kitchen. As she passed, she muttered, “You should’ve decked him.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Maybe next time.”

---

Logan was right—he didn’t leave. But he didn’t force you either.

You assumed he learned your schedule because for the next few weeks he was there, always in the background. After work he’d lean against his truck across the street from the school.

When you went grocery shopping he was there, following from a distance.

remember that there is a second part to this!!

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henreyettah · 1 year ago

Text

Happy (belated) birthday to the boy 🫶

(Lil ficlet under the cut)

SIMON

We’re on the train, headed to Baz’s parents new house. It’s in some place I’ve never been before, but that’s ok because Baz took care of the tickets (I did offer to fly us, but again, I don’t know the way) (it’s also a bit away and neither of us were sure I’d be able to carry myself and a grown vampire for that whole flight)

He’s had a long day; he’s got this posh office job now which he wanted very badly, but the hours are horrendous.

As usual with Baz, this change in lifestyle has brought with it changes to his wardrobe: he wears loungewear now, as soon as he gets home. After particularly awful days he won’t even have the strength to change into them himself; he’ll step through the door and spell his office ones off and the cozy ones on. They complement his sharpness nicely; makes him more tangible, more like something within reach, that I’m allowed —encouraged, even— to grab a hold of and not let go.

Our luggage is stuffed beneath my seat, and my heels keep bumping into the side of it when I shift. We’ve only brought enough for the two nights we’re staying over, but Baz has this new suit set he wants to wear for his birthday dinner tomorrow and apparently it required ‘room to breathe, Snow’.

Whatever that means.

I’m not going to complain about it, however. It looks absolutely stunning on him; he’s started leaning into the vampire look again, like in school when he slicked his hair back to show off his widows peak, and it’s working wonders now just as it did then. The suit is a sleek and slender thing, paired with a blood red shirt that somehow manages to shift in color depending on where you stand. Baz said there was something special about the fabric (“Is it magic,” I’d asked, rubbing the sleeve between my fingertips. “In a sense,” he’d said. “It’s Normal magic, the art of weaving.”)

We had a drink with Penny and Shep before we left the flat, and the alcohol burns warm in my gut still. I don’t drink much, these days. Haven’t the need to.

#simon snow #simon snow series #Baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #ficlet #art #doodle #henreyettart #carry on rainbow rowell

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maras-mischief · 29 days ago

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To Hell with It…

Forty years. Forty goddamn, soul-crushing, ball-busting, and migraine-inducing years. And what did I have to show for it? I was a balding, middle-aged widower. I spent the best years of my life trying to raise two kids after the love of my life died in a hit and run. But being a single parent was no match for social media and the internet. Now I have two spoiled, entitled, cruel, and brainless leeches living in my house. No jobs, no ambition to higher education, just a selfish, delusional, narcissistic existence that they think actually matters. And don’t even get me started on the state of the world. Nothing but a veritable outhouse filled with hate-shitting mouth breathers. A dumpster fire filled with self-indulgent, petty, and recklessly retarded pseudo-people blundering in the darkness. When my ingrate children asked if they had to visit their mother’s grave on Mother’s Day, I lost it and said, TO HELL WITH IT!

I did the one thing every member in my family swore to never do, I opened Goody Bishop’s locket. My very distant grandmother was an accused witch in Salem. Her locket, said to be demonic in nature, was passed down the family. Every generation was swore to guard it and never open it. With my new found apathy to life, I opened it.

Ah, thank you mortal. I’ve been cooped up for so long in that accursed thing.

“Where are you?”

I do not possess the power yet to manifest my own corporeal self. I would need a host body.

“Okay. Take mine.”

What?

“You heard me. Take mine.”

Young descendant of Goody Bishop, you do not comprehend what you say.

“Let me take a stab at it. You’re a demon, probably a succubus based on the family stories. You used my great-grandmother’s body back in the day and almost got caught. She captured you in her locket so she wouldn’t be put to death. You need a body to consume enough sexual energy to create your demonic body. To do so, you possess a mortal.”

Okay, you know some things, but…

“But if you possess me you’ll change me. My soul will burn away as we consume the souls of the living by fucking them to death.”

Correct.

“Fine.”

Fine?

“Yes. I don’t want any of this anymore. Take my body. Take my soul, I don’t want the fucking thing. I want be free of this cursed fucking place and my horrible fucking life. Let’s tear some shit up. Let’s fuck and fight. Let’s enthrall and devour. Let’s ride this corrupt fucking world to the end with a smile on our face and glee in our corrupt heart.”

You are a strange mortal Lawrence Bishop.

“So. Is that a yes or a no?”

Oh, it’s a definite yes. This will hurt. The transformation always does. And the burning away of your soul will be agony.

“Good.”

Okay.

I don’t know what I expected to happen as I felt the demon enter my body. But the pure blue flames that encapsulated my body was certainly not it. The searing heat enveloped me and I felt skin, muscle, and fat burn away. There was pain, but there was also pleasure. I could feel the old me burning away. It was the burden of my life being consumed by the flames. I watched as the fire burned my manhood and scorched a channel into my body. The pain of having my cock burn away was replaced by the glorious searing pain of my vagina being branded into my feminine body. My scream echoed through the room as the demon snapped bones like twigs and remade them to be more subtle to its host needs.

You are a strange mortal, indeed. I’ve never seen a mortal enjoy the transformation before.

“Give me more.”

The flames dove into my psyche and my soul. I felt the demon’s archaic and arcane knowledge fill and expand my mind. I knew things about humanity only a denizens of the underworld could know. The azure flames delved into the core of my being and found the kernel of my essence, my soul. The bright burning flame poured over it like liquid corruption and burned it away a layer at a time.

Now, isn’t this interesting. Mortals repress so much.

As my soul and morals turned to char, repressed memories surfaced. The love of my life, the woman I’d convinced myself was my end-all, be-all was a cheating slut. I caught her coming out of a trashy motel with her lover and ran them both over with the family SUV. I told the kids that she’d been killed in a hit and run, which was true—I hit her and ran. With no guilt or shame weighing me down, I reveled in the memory of running the cheating bitch over. More guilt and shame evaporated as my soul was burned down to embers. My children were entitled little shits because I hadn’t raised them. I let their smart phones and social media parent them, I was too busy working and repressing my guilty conscience. As the last ember of my soul burned with a satisfying pop, I opened my eyes and grinned.

Well now, isn’t this interesting. I’ve never had a mortal embrace demonity before. We are a new breed of imp. What shall we do next, Lawrence?

“Lawrence is gone, Elsabeth. Yes, I know your name. We are neither and both. We shall be…Lillian, in honor of our Mother.”

My Mother.

“No, ours. Now shall we feed?”

Yes, I’m starving. Who shall we consume first?

——————————

Lisa heard the most obscene sounds coming for her brother’s bedroom. She’d fucked in her bedroom before with her Dad home, but she tried to keep it quiet. The bitch LJ was fucking was all but screaming in orgasm. The perverse part of Lisa needed to sneak a peek at her brother and his noisy slut. It was probably Meredith Osbourne—that fat skank had a reputation for fucking anyone and being a noisy bitch to boot.

Lisa opened the door slightly and saw a beautiful and sexy girl riding her brother’s cock. The look of joy on her brother’s face was beyond human. It looked like he was high as well as getting fucked. Lisa had never seen anything like it, not even in porn. Watching the mesmerizing woman fuck her brother made Lisa want to touch herself. As soon as the thought entered her mind, her hand was sliding into her already damp panties. Her other hand squeezed her tit as she fell into rhythm with the euphoric fornication on the bed.

Lillian felt Lisa’s presence in the doorway as she rode and slowly milked LJ’s essence out of his body. The seduction of LJ was bittersweet. Had he been Lawrence’s son, it would have made the copulation that more delicious. But from the first kiss, Lillian knew that LJ was not Lawrence’s kin. It was sweet in fucking and slowly consuming the cheating bitches love child, though. With every squeeze, her pussy cock milked more and more of LJ’s soul through his delving cock into Lillian’s ravenous body.

“Cum inside me. Surrender everything to me.”

“Yes.”

Lisa watched as her brother sat up and embraced the girl. He roared as he thrust as deep as possible and released every drop of cum into her nubile and salacious body.

“More.”

The roar evolved into a cry of panic as Lillian drained his body and soul. Lisa arousal turned to horror as she watched her brother’s arms wither around the woman. He kept pumping and crying as more and more of his essence poured into the girl. Lillian purred as she was filled and sated with the soul and life force of her lover. Her power unfurled in her new body and she felt a succubus tail slither from her tailbone and caress her desiccated lover.

“Enjoy the show?”

Lisa froze as the creatures eyes turned on her. The flesh colored tail curled and whipped around the creature as she pulled herself of LJ’s mummified corpse. Blue flames danced in her eyes as she locked onto Lisa. Satisfied with her meal, Lillian had a new plan for Lisa.

“Come here, Child.”

Lisa’s body moved involuntarily towards the creature who was now sitting on the edge of the bed. She wanted to scream and run away. She knew this thing was evil. It had just drained her brother dry of…everything. But the fire burning in the creature’s eyes had Lisa enthralled. She shuffled towards the naked being and knelt in front of her.

“So young and full of promise.”

Lisa gasped as a light and sensual touch caressed her face. The voice dripped into her ears like venomous honey and coated her mind. Lisa would surrender anything to that touch and that voice. She felt her pussy throb with need as the creature pulled Lisa into a passionate kiss. The last remnant of Lisa’s will evaporated as a bifurcated tongue danced in her mouth. The creature moaned as it savored the taste of Lisa’s lips. Lisa moaned in kind as her body quivered for more.

“You’re his kin; perfect. I need to corrupt and extend my powers in this world. You will be my first acolyte. You will hold a place of honor in my new world.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Lisa’s mind was already surrendering to the demoness before her. In her soul, she knew this creature was a succubus. She could also feel a kinship to the creature.

“Surrender yourself to me. Prove your loyalty.”

“Anything.”

Lillian smiled, her new longer canine teeth on display for the first time. She kissed Lisa on the lips sweetly then gently lowered Lisa’s face between her thighs. Lisa inhaled the scent of sex and cum as her face was pulled into Lillian’s dripping vagina. Lisa heard Lillian’s desire in her mind as she lapped up the rivulet of cum escaping from Lillian’s sated pussy. Lillian moaned as her new acolyte cleaned her pussy and consummated her devotion to her. New knowledge and power wormed into Lisa’s soul. She understood everything now. She knew who and what her Mistress was and desired. She knew that Lillian would slowly consume her soul over the years and if she proved a loyal and worthy acolyte Lisa would ascend herself.

Lisa stood and wiped a drop of her dead brother’s cum off her lips. Lillian purred as she felt her hold cement on her new minion. This world was ripe for the taking. It was corrupt and ignorant. She would have no trouble ascending to power. But first, she needed to discard the remains of her old life.

“Lisa, my dear.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Take your brother’s remains and put them in living room.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Then gather everything of value. We are moving on from this pathetic mortal dwelling.”

“Yes, Mistress. Where will we go?”

“Where ever we want. Where do you want to go?”

“I want to go to my boyfriend’s house. I want to give him to you as an offering.”

“Such a sweet Acolyte. No, you will take him in offering. You will be my scion. You will drain him and I will feed.”

“Yes, Mistress. But what of this place?”

“To hell with it. Let it burn.”

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sokoviansimp · 1 year ago

Text

Control

✒ Pairings: dom!wanda x subAgent!femreader

✒ Summary: Tension builds when Wanda and Y/N, who hate each other, are sent on a mission with Y/N's best friend, Natasha, and her wife Maria. The mission doesn't exactly go to plan.

✒ Tags and Warnings: 18+! Mature themes, kidnapping, chemicals, hospital, bickering, enemies to lovers, slow burn

✒ Author's Note: not proofread, because I'm really high rn and want to get this out because it's been in my drafts for like a month but I've been so busy with moving, and working 2 jobs, and just life changes.

✒ Word Count: 9523

✒ Read Time: 24 minutes

Masterlist : Socials : Series Masterlist

The dimly lit, high-tech briefing room at the SHIELD headquarters buzzed with anticipation. Agents of all kinds filled the seats, their eyes trained on the enormous screen at the front. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow herself, stood at the head of the room, her signature poise and confidence emanating from her.

You sat nearby, attention locked onto the screen. You had earned your place among the elite Shield agents through sheer skill and determination, graduating early from the academy. Your sharp mind and lightning-quick reflexes made you one of the best in the business.

Natasha, after glancing over to her wife, Maria, began the mission briefing. "Our intel suggests that a rogue group of Hydra operatives has obtained a dangerous chemical compound. We need to secure it before they can use it for any nefarious purposes. We’ll be sending a small team in to infiltrate, if all goes to plan we should be in and out within 2 days. Y/N, you’ll partner with Wanda, and Maria will come with me,” Wanda couldn’t help but roll her eyes and let out a small huff at being paired with you, “The tac team will meet us on day 2 by the south entrance to secure the base. Everyone clear?” Nat finished as she looked around the room to see a bunch of heads bobbing in confirmation.

Once everyone had filed out, you and Wanda hung back to discuss infiltration plans with Maria and Natasha. Nat explained that the trek to get to the area undetected would take a day, you would sleep at a small cabin safe house on the outskirts of the forest, and then the next day you would stealthily breach the border to the Hydra base and seize control of the chemical before letting the tac team in to finish up.

“Sounds like a plan, but why do y/n and I have to be partners on this?” Wanda added trying everything she could to get out of being stuck with you by her side.

“Now, I know you two love to bicker, but we’re all adults here. I’m sure you two can push your differences aside for 2 days.” Natasha explained as she shot Wanda a pointed look. She knew the brunette had her grievances about you and, as much as Nat loved you, she also knew how annoying you could be on the surface, but you two were also the ones Nat trusted most, aside from her wife, to have her six.

“I don’t see that being a problem, do you Wanda?” you confirmed with a smug smirk on your face, knowing you would have ample time to get under Wanda’s skin. Bickering with the brunette was something you would never admit you actually enjoyed, but you did. You loved getting her going and sometimes you could even imagine the smoke blowing out of her ears from how much you drove her crazy. You found herself drawn to Wanda's reactions, the way her cheeks would flush with annoyance, or her lips would curl into a sly smile when she caught on to your teasing. You unknowingly reveled in the attention it garnered from Wanda.

Wanda’s gaze shifted back to the screen as her brows knit tightly together forming a slight furrow in the middle of her forehead, “Guess not, when do we leave” she asked tightly pressing her lips together.

“Wheels up in 30” Nat informed as everyone filed out to pack.

You leaned against a nearby table, eyeing Wanda as she adjusted her gear. "Wanda, are you sure you're ready for this mission? I mean, it's not as easy as manipulating some red energy."

Wanda shot you a withering look, her scarlet eyes flashing. "Not everything can be solved by punching first and asking questions later, Sprints. Some of us have to use our brains."

Wanda had given you the nickname, Sprints, one day when you were training in the compound with Nat. Shield agents don't typically train at the compound, but your close friendship with Natasha made you an exception. This day, you had been bragging about setting a new in-house record for the 100-meter dash.

You chuckled, unfazed. "Brains, huh? Well, I'm glad one of us has 'em."

Wanda smirked, her accent lacing her words with a hint of sarcasm. "And I'm glad one of us doesn't rely solely on brute force."

You couldn't resist a playful jab. "True, but at least when I hit something, it stays down. Can't say the same for your mind tricks."

Wanda's lips curled into a wry smile. "Wanna test that theory?" she said pointedly as she raised her hand and her magic swirled around in her fingertips.

Just then, Nat entered breaking up the standoff between you and Wanda, “Knock it off you two, the jet is taking off in 5, get loaded up,” Nat instructed as she watched Wanda walk by you and slightly nudge your shoulder as you innocently raised your hands toward Natasha, “Now.” she said firmly causing you to scurry off with your bag in Wanda’s trail.

As the quin-jet roared to life, and with Nat and Maria both in the cockpit, you couldn't resist the urge to tease Wanda. You knew how to push the right buttons, and her playful, sometimes very real, annoyance was on full display.

You leaned across the narrow aisle, grinning mischievously at Wanda, who was quietly reading a book on her tablet. "Hey, Wanda," you began, your tone a touch too cheerful, "since we're going up against Hydra today, maybe you can use your mind tricks to make them forget they ever messed with us."

Wanda glanced at her with a bemused expression, clearly unimpressed. "Y/N, my powers don't work that way, and you know it."

Y/N pretended to ponder this for a moment, tapping her chin with a playful smirk. "Hmm, shame. It would've made our job so much easier. But hey, don't worry. I'm sure you'll find some other way to be useful."

Wanda sighed, shaking her head as she shifted her focus back to her book. She was clearly unamused by your antics.

As the quin-jet touched down in a remote area, nearly 10 miles from their target location, the four of you gathered your gear and prepared to embark on your covert trek. The evening was closing in quickly and with the loss of the sun, it would start getting cold soon.

Natasha, the team leader, huddled the group together for a final briefing. "Remember, we need to reach the cabin undetected. This is a highly secured area, and any alert could jeopardize the mission. Y/N and Wanda, I need you two to put your differences aside and work together. Our success depends on it."

Y/N exchanged a begrudging glance with Wanda but nodded in agreement. "Got it, Nat. I'll try not to annoy Wanda too much."

Wanda rolled her eyes but remained silent, her focus on the task at hand.

The team set out on their trek, moving silently through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the fallen leaves and underbrush. Y/N and Wanda found themselves side by side, each step of the way requiring them to cooperate and coordinate their movements to avoid detection.

Every now and then, an armored personnel carrier would drive by causing the team to utilize nearby ravines, trenches, and coves to avoid detection. At one point, they hid out in a culvert for a few minutes waiting for the oncoming trail of vehicles to pass. A crinkling sound eventually made its way to Wanda’s ears and her head snapped to you as you tore open a granola bar, “Really, is now the best time for that?” Wanda whispered, trying to keep quiet as she scolded you, “Oh yes, you do not want to see me when I’m hangry,” you quietly responded as Natasha hushed you both to keep quiet.

Despite your earlier banter and rivalry, you and Wanda fell into a rhythm as you navigated the challenging terrain. You took point, your sharp instincts and knowledge of the wilderness guiding the path. Wanda, with her enhanced senses, scanned for any signs of danger or hidden threats.

As you moved deeper into the night, the initial tension between the two of you began to dissipate. You began communicating with subtle gestures and exchanged information about the terrain and possible obstacles. Gradually, a sense of unity began to form between you two, as you realized that your success truly depended on your ability to work together.

Hours passed, and the mission team finally arrived at the remote cabin where they would be staying for the night. Nat and Maria thoroughly cleared it to make sure there were no unexpected guests. Once it was clear, you and Wanda made your way in. The cabin was rustic, with only two bedrooms, and it quickly became apparent that accommodations would be tight.

Natasha and Maria, who were married, naturally gravitated toward one of the bedrooms and claimed it as their own. They exchanged a knowing look, then turned to the rest of the team.

Wanda, ever the enigmatic one, made her preferences clear with a cool, unwavering stare. "I'm not sharing a room with Y/N," she stated firmly.

Realizing the implications, you tried to defuse the situation. "No problem, Wanda. I can sleep on the couch or even on the floor. It's not a big deal."

But Natasha, always the pragmatic leader, stepped in. "Actually, it is a big deal. We need both of you at your best tomorrow. We can't afford any tension or lack of rest. You two are sharing the other bed, there’s plenty of room."

Wanda's lips formed a thin line of irritation, but Natasha's word was final. She begrudgingly agreed, her tone laced with annoyance. "Fine, but I'm taking the left side of the bed."

You nodded following Wanda to the other room, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "Works for me, Wanda. I promise not to steal the covers."

With the sleeping arrangements decided, the team settled into their respective rooms, though the atmosphere in the second bedroom was palpably tense. You and Wanda each occupying your respective sides with a noticeable gap between. Tension hung in the air, and you both lay stiffly under the covers, each determined not to give an inch.

The initial discomfort led to a silent battle for the covers. Your fingers twitched slightly as you subtly attempted to pull the blanket your way. Wanda, sensing the movement, tightened her grip on the fabric. This quiet tug-of-war continued for a while, neither of you willing to relinquish control.

But as time passed, exhaustion began to take its toll. The temperature in the room dropped, and the comfort of the covers became increasingly irresistible. Unbeknownst to either of you, both of you gradually drifted into a fitful slumber, with both your subconscious minds seeking warmth and comfort.

In the dead of night, your bodies shifted ever so slightly. In your sleep, you unconsciously turned toward Wanda, your back now touching Wanda's side. Wanda, still asleep, feeling the unexpected contact, hesitated for a moment but soon found herself subconsciously gravitating closer to your warmth.

Your movements continued to synchronize in the depths of sleep. Slowly but surely, the gap between you vanished as you instinctively nestled into each other. Your arm draped over Wanda's waist, and Wanda's head nestled into the crook of your neck. The covers you had fought over earlier now cocooning you both, providing warmth and security.

Though you had started the night as adversaries, the quiet intimacy of your subconscious movements told a different story. In the stillness of the cabin, with the moonlight filtering through the curtains, you and Wanda had found an unexpected source of comfort in each other's presence. It was as if you two were pieces in a puzzle that fit perfectly with one another as your exhaustion-riddled bodies melded together after a long day.

The morning sun filtered through the cabin's curtains, casting a warm and gentle glow across the room. As you and Wanda began to stir, you each gradually became aware of your compromising position. Your bodies were entangled, limbs intertwined, and faces mere inches apart.

For a brief moment, your eyes fluttered open and met Wanda’s gaze, your heartbeat picked up nearly drowning out any source of sound for you as your cheeks reddened, you knew you should want to move, should be upset, but you froze like a deer in headlights, like if you stayed still then she wouldn’t notice and would stay as well. For a moment, you enjoyed the comfort of the witch’s grasp. That was quickly replaced by your mutual disdain from the previous night as the tension resurfaced with the disgusted look Wanda shot over to you. You locked eyes, both startled by the proximity and the realization of how closely you had been clinging to each other in your sleep.

Wanda quickly pulled away, her cheeks coloring slightly with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. She shifted to her side of the bed and cleared her throat, avoiding your gaze. "This is... not how I expected to wake up."

Equally flustered, you hastily withdrew your arm and adjusted your position to sit on the edge of the bed, cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah, well, it's not exactly my ideal morning either."

The tension that had momentarily dissipated during the night returned in full force. Both of you were acutely aware of the compromising position you had awoken in, and it only served to highlight your ongoing rivalry and mutual discomfort.

As you both jumped to get out of bed and prepared for the day ahead, your distaste for each other remained palpable. The events of the night had not erased your differences or any of the underlying tension, and you were both eager to put some distance between each other and the uncomfortable intimacy you had experienced in your sleep. Was it really uncomfortable though? You couldn’t deny, it was the best you had slept in weeks. No, it was. Just remembering the look of pure disgust on Wanda’s face puts the bad taste right back in your mouth.

“You two are up early, figured I’d have to come in clanging some pans the way you two like to sleep in.” Nat teased as you and Wanda entered the kitchen, “How’d you sleep?”

“Goo-” you began but were cut off but the louder brunette beside you, “TERRIBLE” she groaned in response, not wanting to re-live what she woke up to.

Nat glanced at Y/N knowingly, “What was that, Y/N?” she continued to tease as she poured the coffee that she had just made into 2 mugs in front of her for each of you.

“Yea, grossly bad. Just- what she said” you stammered to get out, trying to remember what exactly was so bad about it. Then you remembered the look on Wanda’s face full of disgust again, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty that she felt that way toward you.

Once you were all geared up and ready to leave the cabin, Natasha went over the plan one more time before you all stealthily headed back out into the forest. The weak spot that you were looking to infiltrate was about 5 miles from the cabin and you thanked whatever gods may exist that it wasn't winter yet. The air was cold against your cheeks, enough to tinge them a slight red from the wind burn, but not so frigid that you were shivering or unable to focus.

Wanda, on the other hand, curled in on herself any chance she could in order to keep warm and ward off the shivers that threatened to take over her body. As you were waiting in another culvert for a line of trucks to pass by, you noticed from the way Wanda was curled up that she was struggling. Knowing you could survive without the jacket you were wearing, you went to offer it to the witch, “Cold?” you whispered softly and placed your hand on her shoulder to get her attention from behind.

Her eyes snapped over to meet your gaze and she pulled her arm away from your touch like you were a deadly disease, “I’m fine,” she whispered back icy and dismissive, making a mental note to hide her discomfort better. Her disgust for you was clear, little did she know, you were only trying to help.

Taken aback by her response, your initial concern became clouded with frustration. All you wanted to do was see her light up in your direction and yet everything you did caused her to hate you more. If she’s going to act this way, may as well give her a reason. Two can play this game, “Oh right, I forgot you’re made of tougher skin than the rest of us peasants,” you mocked, keeping your tone low so as to not give up your position.

The look that Wanda shot back your way sent shivers down your spine, “Should’ve come more prepared, like me,” you say flaunting your jacket and digging the metaphorical knife deeper as Nat waved an ‘all clear’ signal.

“There it is,” Wanda snapped back at you, “every chance you get to be a coc-“ Natasha cut Wanda off, silencing her, before she could finish her point.

You caught Wanda’s gaze as it happened and pointed at your ears tauntingly. Her jaw tightened and her anger brewed as she continued to move through the culvert, following Nat and Maria’s lead.

As the team made its way out of the culvert and trekked along the route, you noticed Wanda was no longer shivering, all the pent-up anger toward you providing her warmth that would last at least a couple of minutes as you smirked to yourself.

Once inside, Natasha and Maria took point in clearing a path and disabling guards with precision and stealth. You and Wanda had been tasked with obtaining the chemical agent that had been noted on the radar. The crucial task brought you both further into the facility, and as much as you each had trouble being in one another’s presence, you put your differences aside to work well as a team.

As you moved deeper into enemy territory, you settled back into the unspoken language of signals you had used the previous day together. Wanda was easily able to disable the camera feeds with her telekinesis while you took out any remaining guards and covered your tracks.

Soon enough, you both came to a secure-looking door, its lock was intricate and seemed heavily fortified with barometric readings and sensors. Without hesitation, Wanda focused her energy on the lock’s mechanism, using her powers to manipulate the gears and pins. You had her back, keeping watch on the corrodor, as she fell vulnerable to an attack from behind with her mind focused elsewhere.

A stray guard came out of a room down the hall making his way in your direction as he began to yell and pull out his gun, “Don’t lose focus Wanda, I got your back,” you assured her as you swiftly disabled the guard. As much as Wanda may hate you, she knew deep down that she could trust you and kept her focus on the door.

Once you settled back beside Wanda, you couldn’t help but let out a snarky comment as she was otherwise engaged with her powers, “You know, Wanda, it’s almost like having magic hands comes in handy on a mission like this,”

Wanda shot you a side-eye glance with just a hint of a smirk on her lips, “Oh, so now you like my powers, huh?”

Grinning, you responded, “Let’s just say, I’m starting to see the perks.”

With that, Wanda was finally able to get the door lock to yield to her magic and open up. With the granted entry, you both slipped into the room beyond, only to be met with dozens of eyes from scientists working in the lab you just entered, “What’s up fellas, I heard you’ve been playing with a new toy,”

The scientists, startled by the sudden intrusion, immediately recognized the threat and reacted swiftly. They shouted in alarm as you charged at them causing one of them to activate a security alarm, triggering a set of reinforced doors to slam shut, attempting to neutralize the largest threat they saw, Wanda.

Before she could react, you pushed her out of the way, finding yourself locked inside a sealed chamber, cut off from Wanda and the rest of the room. Panic coursed through your veins as you realized the predicament. Seeing that you’re in no position to look out for Wanda any longer, you began pounding on the glass door, shouting for her to get out, but the scientists weren’t done quite yet.

In a desperate bid to incapacitate you, originally Wanda, and prevent any further interference, one of the scientists had activated an aerosol dispenser in the sealed chamber. A fine mist of the chemical agent you had been tasked with retrieving filled the air around you. All you could do was gasp as the toxic substance began to take effect. Desperately trying to hold your breath and shield yourself from exposure, your focus shifted from escape to self-preservation. Your skin became overrun with a dark crystalized rash, similar to obsidian growing like a vine on the side of an unkept building, scaling up and down your arms as it spread out.

On the other side of the sealed door, Wanda fought to free you from your captors, her powers surging as she attempted to disable the security measures and reach you as quickly as possible. She knew the amount of time it would take her to break through the mechanism would be fatal for you, so she desperately took to screaming at the scientists to unlock the door and sending a wave of magic knocking them against the wall when they wouldn't cooperate. The scientists, however, were determined to keep you separated and eliminate the threat they posed to their operation. The mission had taken a treacherous turn, and you were left alone in a race against time to survive the effects of the chemical while Wanda fought desperately to save you.

As the seconds flew by, your vision grew hazy and Wanda knew you were reaching critical condition as the rash spread to your face. When brute force failed, she surged into the minds of the scientists standing before her to figure out how to disable the chamber. Once she was deep enough within their mind to bend their bodies to her will, she was finally able to free you.

As soon as the doors opened to allow Wanda to reach you, she rushed in without a second thought, her magic almost working subconsciously to move whatever was left of the chemical in the air. You laid on the floor hanging onto any bit of consciousness you could grasp onto as you faded in and out, just hoping to make it out alive.

The witch scooped you up and darted for the exit, “Nat, we have an emergency situation here. Need medical evac NOW!” Wanda said over the comms. Her sprint turned into a quick glide through the air as she found it easier and quicker to let her magic take you both through the base and toward the exit.

“Roger that, contacted HQ for the tac team and medical. 10 minutes out.” Nat responded, “What hap-”

“Fuck- 10 minutes? I don’t know if she has that long,” Wanda responded with worry, as she looked down at you shaking in pain as you drifted in and out of awareness, “Y/N, hey look at me, can you hear me?” Wanda spoke gently but with urgency, as you met her gaze briefly before your eyes rolled back slightly in a blur, “Medical is on the way, you just need to hold out for 10 minutes, I’m going to get you there, just- hang on” Wanda stated as her grip on you tightened and her magic quickened in pace.

Within minutes, Wanda met up with a medical team that arrived on the scene. They assessed your condition and quickly realized the severity of the situation. You were unconscious, struggling to breathe, and not only displaying signs of chemical poisoning but also a rash they had never seen before.

Working together, Wanda and the medical team carefully stabilized your condition as best they could on-site. They administered oxygen and provided preliminary treatment to counteract the effects of the chemical agent.

Recognizing the urgency of the situation, the medical team made the critical decision to transfer you to a nearby hospital equipped to handle chemical exposure cases. They carefully loaded you onto a gurney and rushed you onto an awaiting helicopter.

During the tense journey to the hospital, Wanda rode alongside you holding her hand and offering silent reassurance, while Nat and Maria stayed back to work with the tactical team. The situation remained dire, but they were doing everything they could to give you the best chance of survival.

At the hospital, a team of specialized medical professionals took over your care, working tirelessly to detoxify your system and stabilize your condition. The chemical exposure had taken a toll on your body, and even after all this time, your prognosis remained uncertain.

Wanda, exhausted and fraught with worry, refused to leave your side. As if every reason she had to hate you flew out the window, she was determined to stand by her partner throughout this ordeal, hoping and praying for your recovery.

Wanda was pulled from her spiraling thoughts in the waiting room as she heard a nurse utter, “She’s stable,” in a very neutral tone, so neutral that maWanda was unsure if it was actually good news, “but she’s not out of the woods yet.” she warned as she motioned for Wanda to follow her in to be by your side once again.

The brunette stood to follow, “Is she awake?”

The nurse shook her head, mentioning that she doesn’t expect you to wake up for at least 12 hours. They needed to ensure that your body has flushed out the toxin before allowing it to exert any more energy.

Wanda took the seat by your bed and notified Natasha of the situation. She was hopeful, knowing you're a fighter, and Wanda tried to be optimistic as well, “It should’ve been me, Nat,” Wanda stated full of guilt and regret. Nat did her best to assure Wanda that she would’ve done the same and your situation was in no way her fault. Deep down, she wonders if she actually would’ve done the same.

“You better wake up, Sprints, or I swear. How dare y- why do you have to be the best at everything?” She sighed as her body trembled and a tear spilled from her eyelid.

After two long and agonizing days of unconsciousness, you finally began to stir in the hospital bed. Your vision was hazy at first, and you struggled to regain full awareness but as your senses gradually sharpened, you slowly became aware of the sterile hospital room that surrounded you.

The first thing you noticed was Wanda, sitting by your bedside. As your eyes met Wanda’s, your heart skipped a beat, you could see her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and relief. It was unlike her, but you couldn't help but smile weakly, your voice hoarse as you croaked out a greeting. "Hey there."

Wanda's expression softened, and she reached for your hand, squeezing it gently. "You're awake," she replied, her relief evident in her voice until it starkly changed to anger, almost like a mask, “Don't ever do that again!” she warned, brows furrowing.

“Wow, not even a thank you.” you teased as Wanda bit back to reiterate, “I’m serious y/n, I could’ve protected myself.”

“Yeah, but I protected us both,” you snarkily replied letting the brunette build up steam as you dug further.

“Protected? You almost got yourself killed, for nothing! God you're insufferable!” she exclaimed, not even wanting to be in the room with you anymore. Remembering just how annoying it is to even hold a conversation with you.

“Didn’t realize you cared,”

As your eyes continued to scan the room, you spotted Natasha and Maria entering the room with a tray of coffee and snacks, “Coffee anyone? Oh Y/N, you're awake!”

You smiled in response as Nat took the coffee from her wife with a smile, letting the tension built between you and Wanda disipate as they took over the conversation.

“You gave us quite the scare there, y/n,” Nat noted, as much as she worried for you, she knew you were a fighter with the best medical team in the country.

“Aw, you were worried?” You teased, knowing Nat to always keep a stone cold exterior to most, only letting ones that she was close to, like you, really get to see her emotions.

“Not one bit,” she lied and everyone in the room knew.

As Nat and Maria took over the conversation, Wanda sat there brewing. Not only could she not understand the emotions she was feeling for you, but they just kept brewing as he sat in silence. Anger, relief, annoyance, worry, it all swam around in a confusion pool of questions. Her abrupt departure was without a word and you looked to Nat as she left, “Guess she’s tapped out on me for the day,”

Nat knew that you and Wanda had a rocky relationship but she felt that the brunettes behavior was quite uncalled for given the circumstances, “mm, I’ll talk to her,” Nat hummed as she got up to leave the room in pursuit of Wanda.

“And then there were two,” you joked with Maria.

Nat found Wanda in the hallway walking toward the exit of the hospital, she was headed back to the cabin as that’s where the 3 of them have been staying while you were stuck in a foreign hospital until you were ready to be transferred back to New York, “What the fuck was that?” Nat aggressively shouted in Wanda’s direction.

Wanda quickly snapped her head around to the familiar voice, eyes landing on the angry Russian, “Not now Nat, please.” She dismissed as she stayed on her path.

“No, Wanda, you don’t get to pick and choose. Y/N was practically on her deathbed to save you and this is how you want to act? What’s so terrible that you can’t even spend more than 5 minutes with her?”

“I didn’t need her to save me, she just made it all even more,” Wanda paused before bursting out, “DIFFICULT!”

Nat could tell this was about more than just getting you to safety after the mission. She knew Wanda had dealt with a lot and always had a hard time getting her emotions in check. Instead of pressing further, she decided to switch up the metaphorical cards in her hands, “well all she wanted was to make sure you were safe.” With that, Nat turned to head back to your room. Wanda stood there watching her walk away, knowing she was right.

Before Wanda could decide what to do next the ground began to shake. It was subtle at first but soon, the items lining the walls and the structure of the building began to tremble along with it. Nat turned back to Wanda, who was still standing behind her, “Is that you?” She raised her brow, knowing the answer would be no, but hoping that it was by chance as that would make their job much easier.

Wanda shook her head, confusion written all over her face as Nat turned again in the direction of your room in a full sprint, Wanda following Nat’s lead closely behind. Nat easily put the pieces together that the chemical agent you were exposed to would have effects that they could not predict.

When they made it to your room, they were met with Maria trying to calm you down as you shook and writhed on the bed in pain. Your skin felt like it had just been dipped in lava causing your temperature to rise so much that you could visibly see a slight red tint on your face. Inside was arguably even worse as the uncontrollable shivers caused you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

Nat tried calling for a doctor through the hallways as the building began shaking even more. The worse your condition became, the more aggravated the building shook. They had to do something before the hospital filled with hundreds of innocent people became rubble. Wanda came to the side of your bed opposite Maria, shock prominent on her features as she watched you squirm, not knowing how to help.

Maria could tell that Wanda was struggling with how to help, honestly, she didn't know exactly what to do either, but she did know that they had to get the building to stop shaking, and she was sure with Wanda’s magic, they would be able to help you somehow, “We have to neutralize the seismic waves emitting from her somehow,” Maria told Wanda as she kept her eyes on you, trying to figure out a solution.

With that, Wanda was snapped out of the frozen state she was in as her eyes lit up red and she dove into your mind, trying to get answers. Near instantly her body began to tremble as a whimper fell from her mouth at the pain that radiated from you, “Y/N you have to calm down, the whole building is about to collapse”

“I’m not doing anything,” your thoughts fighting to make sense of the situation, “I-I can't control it! H-HURTS!”

Wanda’s balance faltered as the building’s shaking became more intense, her grip on the railing of your hospital bed tightened, and it became clear to her that her best option was to sedate you. She reached her hands toward your temple and let the red tendrils of her magic flow freely toward your skin as they rooted themselves within your mind. Taking hold and lulling you into a calm state of peaceful sleep. Slowly but surely, the building stood still again and soon after, a doctor came in to assess the situation.

“About time,” Natasha spat with clear irritation towards the doctor.

Wanda, felt a growing unease as Dr. Scholt entered the room. His icy, judgmental gaze fell onto you as he began to examine your medical chart and machines. It was clear to Wanda that his discomfort with powered individuals was not something he could easily hide.

Ignoring Nat’s comment, Dr. Scholt made his way over to assess your condition eventually swaying from their original plan of keeping you until you were stable enough to be transferred, “I've seen too many of their kind, causing nothing but chaos and destruction. We don't have the resources to deal with creatures like this in our hospitals,” unaware that one of the most powerful enhanced individuals was standing right beside him, his disdain for you was clear with his tone and judgmental words.

With a mixture of anger and concern, Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and her voice carried a hint of impatience as she retorted, "We're here because we need medical assistance, Doctor, not a lecture. Y/N's condition is the priority, and I expect her to receive the same care as any other patient. Your personal opinions have no place in a hospital room."

Before the doctor had the chance to respond, Wanda cut in, “No, it’s fine. He made his stance awfully clear,” she quarreled with a head tilt toward the doctor before turning back to Natasha, “We’ll take it from here,”

“Great, I’ll get her prepped for transport,” the doctor mentioned as he attempted to grab sedatives to administer to you for the ride. However, Wanda wasn’t going to let him or his team lay another finger on you after the display he just made, knowing even from his thoughts, that his ill intentions may get the better of him.

Before he left the room, Wanda caught his attention, “Maybe I wasn’t clear, Adam,” refusing to use his doctorate title, “we will take it from here.” she precisely articulated in a sharp manner, “Our transport team is on the way, You and your team are not to lay another finger on Agent y/l/n. Are we clear?” she flared, starring daggers into his soul.

“How do you know my name?” he bit back as if that was the most important thing that Wanda said.

“Are we clear?” Wanda repeated, without any explanation for the extra information. The doctor quickly took the hint as he nodded and scurried out of the room.

Wanda’s gaze shifted to meet Nat’s gaze who stood by the door as she watched the doctor walk past her to leave the room, “All that for someone you hate, can’t imagine what you're like when you actually like somebody,” she teased.

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda defended as she tried to hide the growing smirk on her face, “She’s just the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” she added to keep her position on you clear and she couldn’t have anyone thinking she likes you in the slightest, “But he wanted to do more to her than prep her for transport,” She informed the two other agents that stood with her in the room around your bed.

“Well, Y/N’s lucky to have you in her corner, once Fury hears about this, Mr. Sholt can kiss his doctorate goodbye,” Maria reassured as she took a seat beside your bed to wait for the transport team to arrive in a couple hours.

Once SHIELD’S medical team arrived, they administered sedatives to keep you unconscious during the flight and prepared you for the jet before you woke up. Wanda was instructed to be by your side as an extra precaution, in case you somehow woke up or your unhinged powers started going haywire in your sleep.

The ride back was tame with no real issues, at one point Wanda could sense your consciousness creeping back in but she was able to quickly lull you back to comatose with her magic. Once the jet landed, they quickly got you set up in the med bay at the compound in Upstate New York. This was not typical protocol for the team. Since you were not an Avenger and merely a Shield agent, proper protocol would be to take you to the medical facilities at SHIELD headquarters. Natasha wouldn’t allow that to happen though, under her authority, she made sure you were overseen by the best team available and close enough to keep watch on.

In a matter of hours, the team ran all the tests they deemed necessary, concluding that the chemicals you came into contact with ignited something that laid dormant in your DNA. The gene acted as a sponge for the toxins, without it, the poison would’ve continued to spread and shut down every part of your body slowly and painfully. Instead, the contagion was absorbed into the gene strand, which was subsequently sent into its next phase. Without the toxin, this gene could’ve laid dormant within you forever, instead, it entered a new stage, triggering your new abilities.

“Was anyone else in contact with this chemical?” Dr Cho asked out of an abundance of caution, knowing that if they had been, they probably wouldn’t be in such good condition.

Nat looked to Wanda for a response, knowing she was the one in the room with you when it was released. Wanda’s gaze fell to the floor for a brief second before she began, “No, they meant to expose me but Y/N pushed me out of the way,” Wanda explained as she recalled the events from a couple of days prior.

Dr. Cho nodded slightly in acknowledgment before responding “It’s a good thing Y/N was the one affected by this in all honesty. Without running tests, there’s no way to know whether the rest of the team has the gene structure to survive such an attack. She got real lucky,” Dr. Cho explained as she went over the results of the tests.

Wanda struggled with this internally. Part of her was thankful things unfolded the way they did because if they hadn't the situation could've been a lot worse, but the other part twisted it to figure that you must have just been trying to 1-up her. You never do anything nice without something in it for yourself, at least in her eyes. This wasn’t anything new when it came to the way she thought about you. It was often that your intentions were competitive and came off abrasive, but she tended to use that model of thought for anything you did in her presence. Shaking every bit of sincerity off for a hidden agenda, and refusing to see any good in you. Deep down, maybe she didn’t want to see the good in you, it was so much easier to be closed off. Afraid that once she starts to unravel you, she’ll have no more walls to hide behind. No more armor to keep her from falling for you, to keep her safe from the pain she’s always known to follow. So, she doesn't think too deeply about it, instead, she lets her thoughts protect her.

It was easier for her to paint you as an asshole than to deal with the mixed emotions she felt for you. Blaming everything on your lack of empathy acted almost as a shield for her, enabling her to bury other emotions so deep that she could forget about them. After replaying the events over and over in her head on a loop, she was able to spin the story in her head and concluded that you must’ve known about your genetics. You had to go through genetic testing to be a field operative with such high clearance, surely that’s how you knew. So the only reason you even pushed her out of the way was to look like the hero, to make it look like she needed saving, knowing full well you’d make it out just fine. Ugh, you’re the worst.

With that, it was like a switch in Wanda flipped. As if her emotions were immediately shut off, she stopped visiting you at the medbay and was happy to go about her daily life without a care in the world of your condition.

You spent the next few weeks recovering. Natasha was by your side every step of the way, acutely aware of who visited you and who didn’t. Wanda never did. Tony came by a few times, you two weren't very close but he felt the need to show face at least. With nothing much to talk about, Tony always defaulted to talking about work when he was nervous. He didn’t find himself in too many situations without anything to say, but when he did, he attempted to claim the room with his confidence as he always had in his career. Almost as a nervous tik, he defaulted to talking about things that he knew a great deal about, even if the people around him didn’t.

To his surprise, you were easily able to keep up with his shop talk jargon and follow along with the schematics he propped open as examples. The two of you quickly began bonding over your love for science and math. Nat noticed the uptick in visits from Stark and was happy to see you making more connections with the people she called family.

Some of the other Avengers made their way down to the medbay as well after Nick encouraged it in a meeting. He knew how good of an agent you were, following your progress ever since word spread about you during your time at SHIELD Academy. It was practically unheard of for an Agent to graduate early, only 2 had ever done it before you. Since then, he made sure to check up on your progress every few months, hoping you’d grow into a top agent so he could use you on one of his special teams. With your new onset of abilities, he figured that eventually, you’d fit right in as a new addition to the Avengers.

Fury rarely leaves anything to chance though, including your development. In order to get you comfortable with your newfound abilities, you’d need a mentor. Someone who has gone through a transition like yours before. After giving it some thought, there was only one other person on the team who could relate to you in that sense.

Thor, while he did have to prove he was worthy to his father and himself in order to unlock his full potential, his powers always belonged to him. There was nothing unexpected or confusing about it. He has always wielded his power with knowledge and confidence. Similarly, Steve’s transition was also foreseen and he was able to quickly and seamlessly get a hold of his powers.

Bruce on the other hand, still struggles to keep the beast inside of him under control. While he may be able to relate to the situation you’re currently experiencing, he wouldn’t be the right fit to mentor you with the way he is still trying to figure things out for himself.

It was clear that Wanda could relate to your situation most closely. While she may have volunteered in the experiments carried out by Hydra, the outcome was something she never could’ve expected. For a while, she struggled to come to terms with what her body was capable of. Fearing that she would lose control and hurt someone unintentionally, and deep down the fear always lingers, but she has learned how to control it; and while she may not believe it herself, her team trusts her and her ability to keep her powers in check.

Fury knew the two of you were far from besties, but he hoped this mentorship could double as a bonding experience to help get you more acclimated to the team. Wanda would need to get used to you being around more often, whether she was okay with it or not, he hoped this could help nudge her in the direction of welcoming the transition.

“No. Not a chance in hell.” Wanda argued as she stood from the chair opposite Fury in his office. Nick didn’t offer a reaction, instead, he kept his face neutral and waited for Wanda to come to terms with the arrangement.

Noticing that Fury was not giving in, Wanda broke the silence to add, “Why me? I have nothing to teach her, she’s insufferable. This seems like more of a Rodger’s job.”

“The arrangement isn’t negotiable, Maximoff. Y/N has a lot to learn from you and I’m sure you’ll be a great teacher once she’s back on her feet.” Wanda scoffed, anger beating off her, as she went to leave the meeting.

“Oh, one more thing,” Nick added causing the brunette to pause and turn by the door, “Y/N will not know about this arrangement of ours, and I intend to keep it that way, are we clear?” without giving a clear response, Wanda rolled her eyes and stormed off to the gym, wanting to let her anger out on something meant to be hit before she ended up taking it out on the nearest wall.. “Oh, and I expect an influx of visits from you to the medbay!” He shouted towards her retreating form down the hall.

Straight from Fury’s office, she stormed into the gym with a palpable aura of frustration and anger. Her usually calm and composed demeanor had given way to an agitated energy that practically crackled in the air around her.

Nat, who happened to be in the gym working on her own training routine, turned her head as she sensed Wanda's arrival. The room seemed to darken with Wanda's stormy presence, and Natasha knew that something had clearly set her off.

Wanda didn't waste a moment. She approached one of the punching bags, her eyes flashing with a mix of determination and anger. Without saying a word, she unleashed a series of powerful punches and kicks that sent the heavy bag swinging wildly.

Wanda's frustration reverberated through the gym as she relentlessly pummeled the punching bag, each strike carrying the weight of her annoyance. The ferocity of her strikes was a clear indication of her irritation. Natasha, noticing the intensity of Wanda's training session, decided it was time to address the obvious tension. Wanda's training strikes were powerful and precise, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Once Nat felt that Wanda had gotten out her initial anger, she approached her friend cautiously, waiting for a break in the flurry of punches before speaking. She knew better than anyone that sometimes words were not enough, and physical exertion was the only way to cope with intense emotions, "Wanda, what's going on?" Natasha asked, her tone laced with concern as she held the opposite side of the punching bag sturdy for Wanda to continue laying on punches.

“Fury.” She growled, “He wants me to.” *PUNCH* “mentor y/n” *PUNCH* “he won’t let” *PUNCH* “Steve do it.” *PUNCH* “He wouldn’t listen” *PUNCH* “ugh!” the punching finally stopped as she left a hand on the punching bag for balance while she caught her breath.

Natasha peeked around the bag that she held steady for Wanda to give her opinion, trying to approach with caution, knowing Wanda wouldn't like what she had to say.

Natasha didn’t know what triggered it, but she noticed the stark change in the way Wanda went from caring about you in the foreign hospital to completely shutting herself off from you as soon as you got back to New York.

Nat took a step back from the bag to gather her thoughts, “Let me get this straight, you’re throwing a fit because the girl who just saved your life is going through life-changing trauma right now and Fury is asking you to help her through it because you have experience and have been through a similar situation?” with one eyebrow slightly raised, she shot Wanda a pointed glare.

With her frustration rebuilding as she processed Nat’s words, Wanda pushed the bag away and turned toward the door, “Oh, here we go again. Poor Y/N she’s always the victim,” Wanda marched toward the door, not wanting to hear another person defend you. In her eyes, you were conniving and everything you did was calculated, other people just couldn't see past your charm to expose how much you actually tormented her. They couldn’t see how she was so clearly the victim in this circumstance. They couldn't see how twisted you made everything. She could though, she saw right through you.

Nat wasn’t letting her get off that easy. She chased after the brunette trying to storm out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to be face to face. Against her own desire, Wanda’s feet stayed planted to see what Nat had to say.

“Are you serious? You two may not be friends, but she saved your fucking life. She was there for you, the least you could do is offer her some support and show a sliver of gratitude! You need to take a good hard look at yourself, this isn’t the Wanda I know.” Nat scolded

Seething, Wanda bit back through gritted teeth, “I didn’t ask her to.” without giving Natasha the opportunity to speak, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the gym.

Natasha stood there nearly dumbfounded, wondering what had gotten into Wanda to make her so heartless and cruel towards you.

From the gym, instead of wallowing alone in her room, Wanda decides to leave the compound for a walk around the grounds. As she walked alone with her own thoughts, she desperately tried to calm the anger within. Spending more time with you was the last thing she wanted to do, especially after coming to the conclusion that your heroic act was just a ruse.

As she strolled, she went through countless scenarios for ways that she could get out of this whole situation. There wasn’t a single one that she thought was good enough to change Fury’s mind.

What if I broke my hand? No, I'm sure he’d still make me teach her. What if the compound mysteriously caught fire? That would probably only delay things. What if there was an Avenger’s level threat? He’d probably just make me do it when I got back. What if I became evil and left the Avengers to take over the world or something? That could work, though it’s a bit dramatic and I don't even want to take over the world.

Knowing that Nat was on your side about this already told her that everyone else at the compound would share Fury’s opinion. Out of the whole team, Nat was the one most likely to take Wanda’s side for anything. She always knew that if Natasha’s opinion differed on a subject, the others were bound to as well.

Wanda took the rest of the day to decompress and attempt to accept that she’d have to mentor you. The next day during breakfast, she heard Tony and Thor mention they’d be visiting you once they finished their meal. Knowing she’d have to see you eventually, Wanda’s ears perked at the opportunity to tag along and not go alone, “Can I come?” Wanda’s eagerness came as a shock to the two men sitting across the counter from her, but also to everyone else within earshot who wasn’t involved in the conversation.

“Come to see y/n?” Tony clarified, not sure if Wanda had heard them correctly but she nodded in confirmation, “ye- yea of course.” he confirmed, surprised Wanda had any interest in visiting you.

The hum of medical equipment filled the medbay as Tony and Thor entered, their presence bringing a dynamic shift to the room. You were still in the process of recovery, looking up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude as the two Avengers approached and Wanda trailed behind. She didn’t say anything as the two of them greeted you, and instead, she took the furthest seat in the room from your bed.

Tony, always one for theatrics, struck a dramatic pose. "Fear not, citizens! Iron Man and the God of Thunder have arrived to grace you with our formidable presence."

Thor chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Indeed! We heard tell of a valiant warrior in need of cheering, and so we have descended."

You couldn't help but smile at their playful entrance, a welcome distraction from the monotony of the medbay. However, as the three of you continued the banter, Wanda lingered at the periphery, sitting leaned back with her arms crossed and a subtle expression of indifference on her face.

Not letting her get away with sneaking in unnoticed, you broke the silence that lingered between the two of you, “Wasn’t expecting you to be here, Wanda. Did someone force you to be here or something?” You saw right through her, but before she could lie through gritted teeth and say that she was there of her own volition, Tony spoke up instead, “Believe it or not, she actually asked us to come,” Tony defended.

Riding along Tony’s explanation, Wanda forced a smile to sell it. She was grateful that he had beat her to it, she was never much good at lying. You weren’t fully convinced that there wasn’t some underlying explanation for her presence but you accepted it with an impressed look on your face, “Wow, no hidden agenda?”

“Actually there is one,” Wanda clarified as she began to explain, “I’m going to mentor you.”

“Mentor?” You were taken aback. Why was Wanda suddenly interested in mentoring you and what made her think you wanted to be her mentee?

“Yeap, we’ve both been through similar experiences and you have a lot to learn about controlling your new powers,” she added with passive aggressiveness dripping from her words.

You wanted to question her further, but you also didn’t want to push her to rescind her offer. Truthfully, you were kind of excited at the thought of Wanda teaching you how to wield your newfound abilities. You knew that she went through a similar situation while she was with Hydra and the thought of spending more time with her, though you would never admit it, made you excited, “oh- okay.” you accepted.

Wanda expected more of a fight with you about this but was relieved to get it over with easily.

“How exciting,” Thor announced, “I know a thing or two about using powers myself if you need help or anything.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if I find a magical hammer,” you teased making the other two chuckle.

Taglist: @marvelogic @esposadejoyhuerta @ju-maxi89 @gingiesworld @simpforlizzie @bigbattygyal585 @cakechan123 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

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1thesewordsaremyown1 · 1 month ago

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So about those 8x16 spoilers.

Clears throat. Places Optimistic Akubra firmly on head.

Read under the cut for a ramble as to why we shouldn't be fretting.

I know people are panicking/upset about the most recent spoilers for 8x16. But I'm of the belief that those spoilers aren't as doom and gloom as we think, and in the case of Buck and Tommy, they're actually GOOD news.

Let's start with the Bobby of it all. I don't think he's dead. For starters, Tim STILL regrets killing off Shannon (who wasn't even a main) over five years after the fact. He's the type that would prefer to write off his characters so that he has the opportunity to bring them back. Then there's the number of the ep that the funeral is in - this happens in ep 16 of an 18 episode season. Narratively speaking, killing someone off is usually a last episode kind of thing (or second to last if you're going to have the last episode deal with the consequences of that death - think Tara from Buffy). But, since we know eps 14 and 15 are a big two-parter, you could logically conclude that Bobby's "death" happens in 15, and 16 is the aftermath/funeral. Now there has been speculation that the two-parter is going to follow a story similar to the movie Outbreak - perhaps there are people trying to use a biological weapon and they end up kidnapping Bobby in circumstances that make everyone believe somehow Bobby was killed? Or maybe Bobby gets infected with something, and the FBI/Army fake his death because they don't want the knowledge of the contagion exposed. Who knows, I'm just spit-balling here.

Then there's the fact that since 911 moved to the abc (I know, small sample size being this is the second season) the stories to open and close the season have been heavily Bathena focused. Cruise ship, house burning down, aeroplane disaster. I mean, they are the stars of the show after all. If the trend continues, you can bet that the last two episodes will be heavily focused on them again - perhaps Athena thinking she's lost her husband and Bobby trying to get back to her.

I've also seen a few people suggest that 911 isn't getting renewed and that's why they've seemingly killed off Bobby. I dont think that's the case here. As we saw at the end of season 6 when they thought they were being cancelled, as well as how Lone Star ended, the writers of 911 like to end on a "happily ever after". There are far too many threads still in play at this point in time to be tied off for that to happen. With Athena at least, unless they do a time jump in the last ep, there's no way Athena goes from grieving widow in 8x16 to happily ever after in 8x18 (and a time jump would not only be lazy writing but seriously unsatisfying for viewers - we want to see Athena being able to move forward, and her journey getting to a happy ending, not just being shown in the last five minutes of the show that all good, she's happy again!)

Now for the bucktommy side of things. Those stills only firm up my belief that they get back together in 15. It would be a classic bait and switch - lull the audience into thinking everything is ending on a happy note with the two of them getting together and then BAM. Bobby is dead.

Not to mention, that for Buck, NOT having Buck get back together with Tommy before they "kill off" Bobby is just CRUEL. With everything he's gone through this season - the breakup, his sister's abduction, his best friend leaving - to throw the death of his father figure on top of all that? Like I said, cruel. Yes, of course he's still going to be devastated, but at least he'll have his boyfriend back for a support system.

And once again, there are too many threads to tie off before 8x18 for them to wait to reconcile until AFTER 8x15. Buck's relationship with Tommy has been his major storyline for this season - finally resolving their issues, and getting back together would be a big deal for him. If Bobby is indeed not dead, and the last few episodes are focused on him, there's just no room to breathe for Buck and Tommy's reconciliation. I mean, sure, they could have them getting back together in 16, have Buck realise that life's too short and he wants to be with Tommy, but personally I'm not a fan of this option. I feel there would always be the lingering doubt (and I know the buddies would certainly use this argument) that Buck only got back together with Tommy because he was blinded by grief, and not because he genuinely thought it through about wanting to be with him (much like they're claiming that he only slept with Tommy because he was lonely, not that he wanted them to get back together).

The fact that they've brought Tommy back again for 8x16, straight after the big two-parter, is also a VERY good sign that a reconciliation is nigh, as well as the fact that he's up with the 118 in the funeral procession - a place we've seen reserved usually for family and his station. Honestly, if they're not back together by this point, the audience would surely be getting frustrated and wondering what's going on and when the hell are they getting back together already. The more they keep bringing him back, the more it's obvious the writers are trying to embed him in the audience's mind as Buck's potential endgame - if they weren't interested in getting them back together, 8x11 would be Tommy's last appearance, and they wouldn't bother putting him in at least an additional 2-3 episodes later that same season.

Once again, this is all speculation based on what we've seen on the show over the years and what you expect to see from a general episodic TV formula. I could be completely wrong, in which case I will begrudgingly trade in my Akubra for a clown wig. But until we find out after those episodes air, the good old Optimistic Akubra stays on.

#trying to keep the hope alive #I feel like not everything as it seems #we're more than likely spiralling over nothing #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #athena grant #bobby nash #bathena #911 spoilers #911 speculation #911 #my ramblings #I feel like the Optimistic Akubra might need a tag at this point #what the hell I'll do one #the Optimistic Akubra

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witchofhimring · 3 months ago

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Disloyalty (Chapter 3)

Book One Masterlist

Synopsis: Your plan to entice Jaecerion in put into action. (Jaecerion x reader officially happening this chapter!)

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Aemond Targaryen x Ellyn Baratheon

Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Jaecerion Targaryen x Reader

Jason Lannister x Reader (minor)

(more to come!)

Y/n Tyrells Profiles

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, childbirth, emotional turmoil, death, unrequited love?, humiliation by Ellyn Baratheon, marital abuse, marital consummation, misogamy (internalized as well as external), brief depictions of smut, mentions of rape (not to the reader), morally grey reader

'Did you hear about Talia?' They were whispering over needle work. While present, you said absolutely nothing. Suppressing the urge to laugh was a considerable effort. Apparently Talia lost many valuable things in there at was forced to live in a lesser room for the time being. 'Serves her right.' You though.

Your fingers stroked the books worn covers. One would think that the royal library would be better looked after. Like all the other books this one provided little information you desired. Under different circumstances you might have enjoyed its contents. But time was of the essence. Soon you would be packed off to Casterly Rock. Determined not to have a repeat of your past, you had to find a way to stop it. There were few who could gainsay Jason Lannister, but you had just the person in mind. Jaecerion loved you. The only problem lay in whether he would say yes. Last time he asked proposed you were a widow and unattached. These circumstances were different. Well, if he knew. It occurred to you that Jaecerion might not have known ahead of time. Last lifetime Aemond had been unaware, so why should Jaecerion who was his younger?

That problem would need to wait. With more immediate concerns' you needed to focus o those, for now. Ever since the bathing fiasco Ellyn had made herself scarce. In any other situation she would have held her head up high. But to do so in this case may very well be deadly. Some did send their condolences, and in those conversations you mentioned how some of her friends might have known her intentions. Naturally this was all a lie, however it suited you well. No jabs were being made in your direction these days. No one wanted to get entangled in this mess.

Just as you were getting dressed that morning a knock sounded at the door. Answering is, Elinor was handed an letter. Your stomach went cold as you recognized the wax seal. The Tyrell rose, Jenna's symbol. 'Please leave.' Trying to suppress the shake in your voice you dismissed Elinor. 'Is everything well?' She asked. 'Yes. Now go.' You said it more forcefully than necessary. Alone now, you opened the seal.

Lady Y/n,

I heard about the events that took place recently, and can only say I am very shocked. Let us pray that this fiasco settles down. You must lay low for a while, for your future depends on it. Stay out of trouble and listen to the Dowager Queen.

Lady Jenna Tyrell

"Stay out of trouble." You snorted. The letter was burned. Staying out of trouble was hardly an option. Either way was an uphill battle. But this time you intended to will.

The current dilemma you faced was to rid yourself of that guard. Burning Talia's room was only possible because he had been paid of by Cerilla. If another was to take his place it must be your man. Despite being a Tarley you had little money to your name. Whatever was allocated to you for service was not enough to bribe someone. And even if this knight was rid of who was to say that the next was not also in Cerilla's pocket. The only solution was to find out how to prove it. Easier said than done. Cerilla might be in a similar position to yourself, but she had allies you did not and Jenna's wealth.

Wait. Was Jenna even aware of this? It would cost money Cerilla did not have, unless one was passing it to her. Someone who had the backing of House Tyrell. Jenna might be a vile hag but you suspected that spying on you at night was not her way. Given her wealth Jenna would have hired more able hands. No the fumbling efforts of Talia. Yet you could not be entirely sure. But there might be a way to find out.

Cerilla had her plots, you had yours.

Dear Lady Jenna,

I pray this letter finds you in good health. You are very right to say I should be careful, and resolve to do so. But there is something of great importance I must tell you. It concerns Lady Cerilla, the sister of your good-daughter. I fear she may be finding other ways to make money, or is in dept. She wears very fine clothing that would cost a greater sum than that allocated to her by The Crown. Several times I have found her out late at night and am very concerned for her safety. If this is mere fantasy I humbly beg your pardon.

Lady Y/n

Even if Jenna did see through the letter and knew you wanted to get Cerilla in trouble she would still investigate. And if evidence turned up which proved Cerilla was acting without her consent then your animosity to her would pale in comparison. The letter was sealed and sent. You watched as the pageboy carried it away. Hopefully soon the fruits of your results would be clear.

Meanwhile you busied yourself with getting the books out. Soon you would hopefully be moving rooms and you did not want to cause speculation. Now that the letter was sent you needed to focus of Jaecerion, and it had to happen before word got out of your betrothal. If you pressed your suit after the proposal House Lannister may consider than an insult. It must be done before. Now you were at the issue you had to think of when to ask. How should you approach it? Jaecerion had been in and out of The Red Keep.

There was still a life outside of your plots, insignificant as it was. Flora and Lady Lenita came and asked if you would accompany them to visit the Queen. You knew there was no point in visiting her. Helaena was utterly mad and nothing would heal her from losing a child. You still dreamed of Owen. His beautiful little face going off colour and ragged breaths. On those nights you woke up in a cold sweat and could not sleep. In those cases sleep was not an option. Instead you simply stared up at the ceiling, thinking.

You ended up not having to wait very long for Jenna's reaction, and it was everything you hoped for. No longer was anyone at your door. And word got around. 'Did you hear what happened to Cerilla?' Flora leaned over whispering in your ear. All the ladies were sewing in Alicent's tea room. People kept chatter to a quiet lull. Hiding you excitement, you simply said; 'What?' Flora leaned in closer. 'Apparently she ran afoul of her patron Lady Jenna.' 'Why? What did she do?' Flora looked around. 'We do not truly know. Money matters I think.' You tried to hide a smile.

A crumpled up butterfly lay at your feet. Its purple wings fluttered piteously in a vain attempt to rise. Stooping down you gathered it up. With its final dying struggles it desperately tried to escape death. Then it lay still, its feeble finds lightly fluttering in the wind. Looking closer you realized a red liquid oozing from its body. Staining your hands red, blood flooded in rivers down the palms of your hands, far to much for so small a creature. And it poured and poured until all the ground was red and you were drowning in the blood.

The quill scratched over parchment as you wrote everything down. Morning had only just begun, the first rays shooting across the lightening sky. Afterwards the book was hidden and you got dressed for the day. Today you went for something simple. That did not mean you were dressing without thought. The deep green dress presented your shoulders for a man's gaze, a sweeping train behind you. Only a golden necklace adorned you. Looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling satisfied you set out. Jaecerion was back after a short excursion. You wanted to greet him before anyone else did. Remembering the past did you good in cases like these. It also meant you knew that in a few days Jason Lannister would press his suit.

Jaecerion entered kings Landing on a horse, his dragon was too large to be kept within. His silver hair caught in the light and you felt something overcome you. He was beautiful. Muscles moved with each movement, honed by years of military exercise. Not many were in the courtyard this early morning. Due to the war the usual pomp and ceremony performed for the arrival of a prince was forgotten. This suited you well. Ones schemes were best left hidden until they took form. 'Jaecerion.' He saw you and smiled. 'Y/n, it is early.' He took you into his arms. And although the hug was friendly a secret kiss lingered on your cheek. Slightly longer than that between friends. 'Jaecerion, there is something I wish to speak to you about.' Curious, Jaecerion consented. A powerful force seized your belly. It was a combination of excitement and anxiety. Never before had you felt so in control. He looked at you as one looked upon a most precious object. Any which way you could pull him.

'Jaecerion!' Alicent was walking towards the pair of you, flanked by Criston Cole. She looked anxious, a normal condition for Alicent. 'Your Grace.' Sinking into a curtsey you inwardly cursed her. Now you would have to wait, and who knew what would happen between now and later. Who was to say Jason's suit would not be pressed on you sooner. Quickly you were dismissed, Jaecerion being whisked away to a council meeting.

A morning mist had settled over King's Landing. As you could no longer be in Ellyn's services you sat with Alicent's ladies. Today they were all crowded in the queen's rooms. No laughter or music brought harmony to these sorry women. Alicent had never been a merry queen, but grief had settled over all like a blanket. Stepping in you felt their emotions like a physical presence. Men might wage war, but women too felt the pains of battle. For a woman's battle always had to be on the inside. It was a silent war that tore at ones very soul. Sitting beside Flora you felt like you were falling. Suddenly all plots were swept aside. Jaehaerys and Owen's pale little faces peaked out at you from the darkness within your mind. The torches flickering above might as well have not existed. Shadow seemed to close in on every side, threatening to swallow every living person in that room. Not truly there, you absentmindedly stitched the tapestry. Who cared about it anyway.

Food felt stale and fire provided no warmth. Your entire being was absorbed with images of the past dead and vengeance. More nourishing than any early substance the feverish desire that consumed you was like the strongest elixir. Emotions swung between elation and grief. All you could do was wait for night to fall. Keeping your ears open you listened for any mention of a meeting. Hopefully this would not happen, for your plans could be impeded. Already you had a plan in place. You would hide behind the statue of King Jaehaerys near Jaecerion's room. Covered in a black cloak you would hide until Jaecerion arrived. At least that was the plan if Jaecerion was up late. You just had to get through today.

When night descended you did not go to bed. You suspected another guard (or spy) would be there. Just because Cerilla was out of action did not mean Jenna's guard was down. In fact she might have become suspicious of you. If everything worked out it would not matter how Jenna felt. As princess you would be more powerful then all of them. So, hoping that this gamble would pay off, you slipped off as the sun set. A strong wind bartered the keeps stone in a torrent of power. You listened its powerful howls outside. It brought you an element of peace as you waited. Through the window you could see the sun set, casting its orange ray across the darkening sky. Every footstep made you jump slightly and look in anticipation.

How long would he be? Your knees were starting to burn. 'Where are you.' You hissed under your breath. Feeling clammy and cold you dreamed of going to bed. With warm sheets and a nice hot fire in the fire place. Only your conviction was stronger than temporary discomfort. Exhaustion was starting to seep in but you held firm. Shaking hands threatened to loosen on the statue. Strong will was the only thing keeping you from tumbling down.

Then you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Looking over you finally saw him. Jaecerion was alone, thank goodness. Body shaking, you stumbled down from your perch and out into the light. 'Y/n' Jaecerion looked alarmed and you were quickly in his arms. 'Jaecerion.' You murmured. Feeling warm you snuggled up against him. 'I'll take you to my room.' You allowed Jaecerion to take the lead. A guard by his door gave you a look. 'You won't be giving me that look soon enough.' You thought. Jaecerion's room was mercifully warm. You took off the heavy black cloak and allowed the warmth that enveloped you. The dress you wore underneath was a rather plain green one. Yet it had an alluring effect, showing off your back and shoulders. You could feel Jaecerio's eyes on you. Good. 'Why are you out so late?' Jaecerion was only a few feet behind you.

'Its......' Your inability to properly covary the words were a combination of exhaustion and anxiety. You had planned this moment and yet when it came you were here there was nothing to show for it. Jaecerion, sensing your anxiety, took a cold hand in his. 'Y/n, are you alright?' Taking a small step towards him you looked into his eyes. They were beautiful. Your own were starting to burn. 'I'm afraid.' Your voice was small and so, so pathetic. Feeling small you wanted the ground to swallow you up into the darkness. This was not acting. Built up fear you had suppressed for weeks was becoming overwhelming. Physically you could not take it anymore. It was like being severely sick with a cold. You wanted to wail and be sick. There was a strong desire to tear your hair out and howl. Everything had happened so quickly that you wanted nothing more than to lay down and just sob. And it was not even like you could tell Jaecerion the whole tale. No one could now how you had been locked up, lost your son and been killed. Perhaps death was a sweeter end after all.

Suddenly you swayed on the stop. The fires light seemed nearly blinding as Jaecerion caught you in his arms. He was warm and safe. All that time locked up by Jenna had deprived you of human companionship. So absorbed with vengeance, you had not realized just how much you missed the company of others. Tears fell past your eyelids and down trembling cheeks. Jaecerion's strong arms wrapped themselves around you as he knelt on the ground. Fingers carded through your messy hair and Jaecerion soothed you between your shaking gasps. 'Y/n.' He sounded disbelieving and worried. His tone, however worrying it sounded, made a flood of security and tenderness run through you. In those long lonely months there had been no one to hold you like this. Ever since the war had started back in another life you had not known a moments security. All you could remember was death, of slit throats and hanging bodies. But for just a moment your thoughts were only of this warmth.

'Jaecerion.' Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Looking up you got lost in his eyes. It had been so long since you had felt so close to someone, and never so intimate. 'I'm afraid.' gently Jaecerion hushed you. 'I swear Ellyn will not harm you.' You looked away.' It is not just her. Everyone seems against me and I do not know what to do.' Leaning into his chest you closed your eyes. 'I do not see how you will be able to protect me, Jaecerion. 'His grip tightened. He took a weak hand in his and pressed it to his lips. You felt the warmth of his youthful lips on you. How good would they feel against yours. 'I swear to you that there is nothing I will not do for your safety.' He took you but the shoulders and you were kneeling in front of him. Face to face with the fire behind him Jaecerion's eyes were wild. His silver hair had the reflecting light behind it with a mesmerizing effect. 'Jaecerion....can you truly promise that?' He nodded, the reaction of a young man who thought strength alone could protect the woman he loved. But you knew better. Taking his pale face in your hands, you said; 'You are a prince and a good man. But I am a mere lady. Ellyn is a princess.' You tried not to spit out the title in a fit of anger and jealousy. Then you were thinking what else to say. He needed to see your way of thinking.

'What would you have me do?' If your were honest, you would have told him to marry you. But that may not work. He had to come to that conclusion on his own. 'I can do away with Ellyn.' Purple eyes went very dark, almost black in this light. A menacing presence issued from him and you marveled that he might be a very dangerous enemy. You had already accepted that Jaecerion killed Ellyn. Her death would serve no purpose to your cause. After your last life you had no wish to be accused of her murder again. 'No, that will be me little good. If anything happens to Ellyn then I will be blamed. I need to find a way to keep me safe, a solution that will keep me out of her clutches. Perhaps I can go to Highgarden. Maybe being out of her way she will forget about me.' 'No!' You barely finished the sentence before Jaecerion protested. He looked desperate and a pang of guilt hit you. But you were close now. You could smell it. Jaecerion stood, pulling you up. Taking you in his arms Jaecerion held you to him. 'Stay with me Y/n.' His voice uncharacteristically shook. Had anyone loved you like this? 'Then what will we do? You are a prince, but I a mere lady.' You did not hide the desperation in your voice.

'May me.' You could hardly believe it. Despite your hopes and planning his words still stunned you. It had actually worked, your plan worked. Swaying on the stop you gripped him tightly. Jaecerion, taking your state deriving from an unplanned outcome. Brushed your hair out of the way. 'If I marry you, I could keep you safe. As my wife you would carry the title of princess and under the crowns direct protection. Ellyn would not be able to harm you, ever.' Jaecerion then got down on one knee. Taking he hand he kissed it reverently, thumb caressing your ring finger. His lips, even after parting, were only a mere inches from your skin. 'If you were to marry me my life would be completely in your keeping. And I would do all to protect you....both of us. And I would love you. Cherish you more than any other.' Even if you had not planned this you would have been won over in a heartbeat. here was this beautiful young man pledging himself to you with a fervor none had shown you before. This plan was one truly mad. For a prince to marry without allowance by his king was dangerous. The woman married to him could face grave consequences. Neither of you cared, you in vengeance and lust, Jaecerion for passion. Now it was your turn to pull him up. And without thinking you kissed him hard. And before the fireplace he made his mark. Afterwards, as Jaecerion lay sleeping, you beside him, the ruby glittered in the firelight.

Notes: This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the rest because I could not find anything else to add. Next chapter will be longer and very interesting👀.

Taglist:

@daenerysqueenofhearts

@le-petit-lulu

@aemondswifeisme

@mandiiblanche

@gknj9495

@minakay

@strangersunghoon

@iilsenewman

@moonlightfoxx

@gknj9495

@heartb8k2

@dahlias-and-marigolds

@dumbhxeredrose

@m-riaa

@sweetsnow88

@blxkstar

@seomta

@sxlsvv

@ninihrtss

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lunicho · 1 year ago

Text

kiss ban - lee sohee

synopsis - sohee's been sick for a while and you haven't been able to come over to help him. so when you finally do he just missed you so much. (2.1k words)

warnings - subby sohee, gn reader, handjob, oral (m receiving), not proofread

a/n - idk if the actual smut part is any good cuz i refuse to read it,, also this is for @kissohee (i'll write u smth better in the future!)

the dimly lit apartment was quiet and cold, almost eerie as you walked in. you shuffled through the door trying not to drop the bags that you were struggling to bring in with you. it was a pretty cloudy day and none of the curtains had been opened in the stuffy home. you frowned at this, remembering your poor sick and probably cold boyfriend. you dropped the bags off by the wide open door, rushing to push the curtains aside and crack open a widow or two.

“babe? are you awake?” you hustled through the apartment, trying to get to your boyfriend's side as quickly as possible. you nudged the door closed, overlooking the house and taking note of the dishes that need to be done and the counters that need to be wiped down. a quiet groan came from the other room, indicating that your boyfriend was awake.

sohee had been out for a few days, his sickness keeping him in bed for a while. at first he told you he was okay and that you didn't need to come by but him being sick still worried you.

you grabbed your overnight duffel and the bags from the store and headed to sohee's bedroom. you quietly pushed the door open and placed the bags on the end of the bed.

sohee rolled over slowly, his movements sluggish. “hey baby,” you moved to his side, caressing his face as he looked up at you cutely. “you're burning up!” you shouted with a hushed voice, in case sohee had a headache.

he smiled dumbly, his entire body feeling weak, “i'm okay y/n, just some fatigue.” you frowned once again, standing to help sohee sit up.

“anyone can tell you're congested, you have a fever too!” you supported his body in your grasp, sticking a hand down the neck of his shirt to feel how hot his body is.

“i promise i'm okay!” sohee sounded anything but convincing, the rasp not subsiding in his voice. you smiled at his poor attempts to convince you he wasn't sick, his hazy expression giving it away.

“maybe a bath will help, yeah i think a bath will help.” you laid him back down, caressing his face once more as you spoke out loud to yourself.

sohee was really out of it, he's just tired, fatigued, and hot. “if you think i'm so sick then you should kiss me better.” the boy flashed you another dumb smile.

you chuckled along with the shake of your head, “no sohee, i can't get sick too. who will take care of us?” he shrugged his shoulders to the best of his ability, not really caring.

“what if i die? then what? you'll just have to live with the fact that you didn't kiss me one more time.” sohee was gaining back a little energy which had you relieved.

“baby you won't die, i'm not gonna let that happen.” with that you went into the bathroom, starting the water for your boyfriend.

“just one kiss y/n? promise it'll make me feel so much better.” sohee was sat up on his own when you came back into the room, he's really hellbent on this kiss.

“in a few days, i'll kiss you all over that pretty face, promise.” you smile at him, leaning in the place a kiss on his forehead. “thought you were gonna kiss my lips, you played me.” you could hear the frown on his lips.

“sorry baby, you'll just have to get better super quick, lets get you in the bath.” you helped him get up and you walked to the bathroom with him leaning into you the whole time. he snuggled into you, loving the closeness of your bodies.

you're doing everything for sohee, just wanting him to feel better. you even help him out of his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head. “go on, get in. tell me if you need anything, im gonna go wash your sheets and clean the kitchen up. i brought some food for you too so you can eat once you're out.

sohee's heart felt complete, he loved that you took care of him like this. “thank you y/n, i'll get better so fast so we can make out and stuff.” you laughed at this, ruffling sohee’s hair before leaving.

you clean up as quickly as possible, popping into the bathroom every once in a while to check on sohee. the house had warmed up and the dirty counters were no longer driving you crazy.

the bathroom door creaked open and out came sohee in his cozy pajamas. his body didn't look as fatigued anymore. a grin came across your lips when you looked into his pretty eyes, “you feeling okay?”

he nodded and walked towards you, still drying off his hair with the towel in his hand. you instinctively lean into kiss him but noticing him puckering his lips made you snap out of it. you lean back, dodging the kiss.

“not this again! you're really not gonna kiss me?” it hurt his feelings seeing you dodge him but you're serious about not wanting to get sick, you had too much to do.

“i want to so bad, trust me but your voice is all yucky and stuff.” you try to hold in a laugh when you see the offended expression on the boys face. “i'm sorry! i'm seriously gonna make it up to you when you're better, you'll never forget it!”

he whines in response, his toothy smile never leaving his face. you move over to the couch with him, finally sitting, “i cleaned everything for you, the dishes, the counter, and your sheets are clean now. the bedding is just drying right now.” he nods, admiring your features as he listens.

“you're so pretty, love when you take care of me.” he grabs hold of you, pulling you in for a hug. you snuggle into him, noticing that his body wasn't hot anymore.

“you mean you love when i act like your maid?” he scoffs at your joke, “it's a fair trade, who babysits you when you're drunk at parties?” you look up at him and roll your eyes, “you, but that's just because you're a good boyfriend.” he smiles, “and you a good girlfriend, one i would really love to kiss.”

he honestly looks so good right now, his feverish blush not yet leaving his cheeks. he was dressed simply, just some loungewear you picked out for him but he looked good in anything.

you sit up and kiss his cheek, then his forehead, “i still won't kiss your lips.” he rolled his eyes and used his pointer finger and hooked it under your chin, placing a kiss right by your mouth.

you laughed along with him, placing more kisses on his face. you trailed down to his neck, nibbling the skin there. “you look so good right now.” you mutter against his neck when his arms wrap around you, pulling you onto his lap.

sohee sighs contently, hands resting on your hips and lower back. you could feel him getting hard against your clothed warmth. you hum against his neck, sitting back to look at his face, “always so quick to get hard..”

you put your weight down on his lap, feeling his hand tighten on your hip. “wish i could kiss you, i'd swallow all your little noises.” sohee whines at this, his head falling back against the couch. he looked at you through hooded eyes, the feeling of your warmth on him being almost too much.

the rasp in his voice was especially present when he whined, making you caress his face lovingly. you didn't want to do too much to him and make his voice worse or make his head hurt.

“so whiny, my little prince.” you grind your hips down on his length, the strangled noise that he let out making you smile. it never takes much to get sohee going, he's easy to get riled up and even quicker to get begging.

“please make me feel good, not kissing you hurts bad enough.” there's genuine sadness in his eyes as he speaks, poor thing. you return the expression, nodding at him slowly. .

“how are you feeling though? headache? throat pain?” you want to be sure this isn't going to be torturous, no matter how much he reassures you he's okay, you're still worried.

“the only pain im feeling is in my pants right about now.” he points down, both of you looking towards the bulge in his pants.

you smile, your hips grinding down on him again. sohee sucks in a breath, getting more desperate, “missed you so much, i was dying here by myself.”

you'd missed him too, you weren't able to come and spend everyday with him since you were busy. the moment you got the chance to come over you ran to his side. “sorry i wasn't able to come sooner, it's been a busy week.”

you climb off of his lap, returning to your original spot right beside him. your hand found it's way to sohee's crotch, gently palming him through his pants.

his body shudders when he speaks, “i-it's okay, you're here now, that's all that matters.” he lifted his hips against your hand, wanting you to touch him more. he snakes an arm around your waist as well, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

you curl up next to him, one arm around his shoulder while the other traces the print of his erection. “pull your pants down, let me see your pretty cock.” he's obedient, immediately reacting to the demand.

you run your nails up and down his thighs, watching precum leak from his twitching length. he's so pretty like this, desperate and leaking. you watch in amazement as you grab his length in your hand.

“fits so perfect in my grasp..” it was almost like sohee was crafted perfectly for you. your hand tugs at his length gently, sohee whines out softly, his lip getting caught between his teeth. you pump him in your hand steadily, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. his hand slightly moves under his shirt, his hands gripping his stomach gently, this was a habit you noticed he had.

you lifted your other hand to sohee’s head, feeling his hair as you brushed your fingers through it. he leaned into your touch, loving the feeling of your fingers on his scalp. he shivered lightly when your nails gently scratched in his hair.

you picked up your pace a little, focusing more on the tip of his cock. small whines and mewls fall from the boys lips, his grip tightening on your waist.

you could tell he was getting close from the sound of his moans and the way he gripped you tighter. sohee grunts, his hips stiffening slightly, “w-wanna finish in your mouth.. please..” his voice has a whiny pitch to it, desperation leaking off his tongue.

you drop down to your knees, slowing down your pace on his cock. you stare up at him, smiling when he looks down at you through his eyelashes.

sohee loves your mouth and anything to do with it, he loves kissing you, feeling your tongue in his mouth, and feeling your mouth on his cock.

you lick a long stripe up his length, watching him shudder at the feeling. you take his full length into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down. he moans at this, his hands making their way into his own hair.

he always gets so desperate that he thrusts into your mouth and today was no different. his hips thrusted up into you, his length brushing against the back of your throat.

you stopped moving your head, letting sohee use your mouth so he could make himself cum. “s-so close..” he continued his movements until his cock was twitching, indicating that he was about to cum.

his hips stilled, his orgasm washing over him. you bobbed your head again gently, feeling his cum shoot into your mouth. you swallow his seed, stroking him through the rest of his orgasm, his moans filling your ears.

you look up at him again, your hand still gently stroking his length as you move to sit next to him. “feel better?” sohee's eyes are shut as you speak to him, his breathing still heavy.

he nods, opening his eyes and gazing at you with loving eyes. “good, i'm gonna go check on the sheets so we can cuddle in bed until you get get all the way better.”

#bunny writes <3 #riize smut #sub riize smut #sub idol smut #sub kpop smut #riize sohee smut #lee sohee smut #riize hard hours #riize hard thoughts #sub sohee smut #sub sohee #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #sub! idol

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months ago

Note

hi! just a regular fic rec for Salt and Sweet: Halotherapy by Anaxarete https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229947/chapters/148279762

HUGELY underrated wip, I randomly stumbled across it a few chapters in and was instantly hooked, really interesting exploration into Steve dealing with grief and learning how to live and love again after his wife died, with endgame steddie. honestly baffling how few views and kudos this has.

Salt and Sweet: Halotherapy by Anaxarete

Rating: Mature

77,840 words, 24/24 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Widower Steve Harrington, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Minor Character Death, grief and mourning, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker Steve Harrington, Writer Eddie Munson, Slow Burn

Summary:

Annie Harrington, nee Johnson, died tragically at sea while on vacation with her husband of four years, local business owner Steve Harrington. The couple were taking a Trans-Atlantic voyage to celebrate their anniversary when a known heart-defect suddenly ended her life. Mrs. Harrington, 28, was buried at sea, presided over by Captain... He has to get out of this town where everyone knows and pities him. He can't stay in their house where every odd noise sounds like her. Steve sells his bakery, packs up, and moves to the east coast. ----- Widower Steve Harrington starts his life over and learns to love again. There is a lot of grief, but there is also so much joy.

Thanks for the rec!

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

#steddie #steddieunderdogfics #fic rec #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie

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ohtobeleah · 1 month ago

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Grief in Grace and Memory // A Goodbye

Woah…guys. 🥹 The love and support in my asks and DMs is beyond my ability to express my thanks.

If you missed episode three (the month that was March) of season 26 of Leahs Life, heres a recap. This is my experience and a little of Dads eulogy I wrote. Tw: surgery/death

On Monday the 10th of March, I underwent a exploratory laparoscopy to diagnose suspected endometriosis. I also underwent a tubal dye study to confirm the viability of my fertility and fallopian tube quality.

-> Diagnosis: Endometriosis and a non-viable left tube. 🥲

Four days after surgery, on Friday night, my dad had a major medical episode that required immediate medical attention and care. I was told not to lift anything substantial for a few weeks. Because although routinely done through keyhole, a laparoscopy is still major abdominal surgery that requires recovery.

However, dad needed help and at the time I was the only one who could. I made sure to get him off the floor before paramedics arrived.

Adrenalin is a fantastic biological response to emergency situations. With less than 45 minutes of sleep for Friday night, as I'd gone to bed close to midnight, it kept me going for the next 17hrs.

My sister (who joined us at 4am after 41 missed phone calls and a frantic dash to her house) and I, made sure all of dads advanced care directives were followed. My mother was inconsolable.

I've never experienced anything like this before. The ICU. The family waiting room that's off to the side where doctors ask you and your loved ones to wait for hours on end while they do everything humanly possible to keep your loved one alive.

I remember about 10 hours into the traumatic experience, I was lying on the floor of the waiting room with my legs bent at the knees on the nearest chair. My stomach was in fire. My incision sights were burning, and the gas trapped in my right shoulder was extremely uncomfortable.

But my dad was dying…the emotional toll of knowing that was far worse than the physical pain I was in.

I had a doctor in emergency check my stomach and administer some pain relief to get me through the next 7 hours of pure hell. (I am still under strict recovery orders)

The waiting. The unknowing. The sadness. The sorrow. The sound of delusional laughter that sets in as your husband and brother in law try their best to keep your mother, a soon-to-be widow, occupied by infomercials that repeat over and over again.

And then comes the hardest conversation you ever hear and never want to be apart of again. Its the conversation that the doctor has with a patients family when all avenues have been explored…Dads not coming home…

The disbelief sets in quickly. I'd grown up believing in the theory that Dad was going to be the only person who survived the end of days. He was always so indestructible. Immortal. Even though the last seven years of his life as he battled two aggressive forms of throat/tyriod cancer.

But here I found myself, saying goodbye to my Dad for the final time. My mother, my sister, my husband, my brother-in law, and later my grandmother would all say goodbye. And at 6:30pm on March the 15th 2025, my Dad passed away.

He chose to go when we weren't there. He didn't want us there to see him like that.

And the truth is, I’ve been trying to write this all week. I've been too preoccupied by this one bumblebee that won't stop harassing me around the house. I've convinced myself it’s Dad.. and don't get it twisted either, it’s not just a regular bee.

There's a difference, bumblebees are much larger and fly without any sort of conviction. So, instead of writing this, I've been researching bumblebees and why this one specific one keeps trying to fly into the house and keeps making a B-line straight for the garage.

I’ve found it quite challenging to commemorate and summarise my dad’s entire 61 years in a eulogy. I’ve had way too many memories clashing around in my head to really sit and organise any of the chaos and pick out a select few. But four things came to mind every time I tried to sit down and express our family’s love.

Dad was never a man of frills. I was ever convinced he owned anything but work shorts and tracksuit pants until I was at least seven. He’d wear the same shirt until it was falling off. But that was just Dad. He never turned down grabbing a beer or two at the ‘Redacted’ Tav with his mates, he lived for family barbecues on a hot summer’s afternoon with all the cousins, aunties, uncles and friends... And whenever the opportunity presented itself, Dad loved to grab the paper and sneak down to ‘Redacted’ Beach to watch the waves, listen to the races and enjoy his vices.

If you passed Dad on the road, you were sure to receive the classic one-finger wave of acknowledgement, or in dad code, the ‘ol mate’ in the old Rodeo Ute that’s held together by hopes, dreams and a hell of a lot of bog. A blessing so meaningful, that if you were ever lucky enough to receive an ‘ol mate’ I wholeheartedly believe that it is now one of the most lucrative clubs to be a member of. The old mates club.

I’ll forever cherish the memories of butcher runs and icy poles, the laughs shared during late-night holiday fun, and the adrenaline rush ‘redacted’ and I felt when we would steal Dad’s high-quality concrete sand for our much more important backyard cooking show.

I'm sure it was a joint effort, but to my very core I attribute my first real-world experience to the whole ‘actions have consequences, even though the consequences were not a direct result of my own actions’... to Dad. you see, it may not look like it now, but I was well and truly a ratbag of a kid. So much so that if I didn't knock it off and knock it off quickly, that brand new fibreglass pool that had only just been installed, would be up in the air faster than I could blink.

I knocked whatever I needed to right off because summer was right around the corner and I wasn't hightailing it to the beach every day. So I worked on fixing the attitude I’d come across. Only to come home the next day to the same fibreglass pool I had made my entire personality for at least six months, was in the air, as promised by my dad who was actively encouraging the crane to lift it higher.

Cut back to little Leah for five seconds…Picture the tears, the crying, the guttural pain of a little girl whose pool was being taken away before she even got the chance to swim in it. I was, rightfully so, devastated beyond belief. And if you could suspend your belief in reality momentarily for me, I can not stress to you all how much I thought the world was ending and I would never recover from the fact my Dad had followed through with his promise of taking away my beloved pool.

If you’re still tuned in, amongst my grief and completely understandable crash out, I missed a crucial piece of information. It had rained the night I had been up sorting my attitude out. The pool had popped out of its hole and rain that had made its way under the pool, needed to be drained…

In hindsight, and the point of telling this specific memory, is perhaps if I had taken a second to look at the bigger picture around me, I would have seen that, although my world was ending and my brief run-in with what a heart attack must feel like, scared be into rethinking my entire personality, that if I took a moment to process the situation, I’d be sad for a while about my pool, but life would keep going, the tides would still push and pull, the earth would keep spinning and the sun would rise the next day.

As an adult, I keep thinking back to this moment, because while we try to process living in a world without Dad, the tides will continue to push and pull. The world will continue to spin, but the sun will always look a little more impactful now that someones up there to paint the skies and keep the cold ones cold.

Although actions have consequences, the biggest consequence Dad ever had to deal with was having a family that loved him till his last breath…

Because like fuck was he gonna go through life without one.

***~***~***~***~

#my grief & Traumatic Experiences counsellor said a recap would be beneficial to my integration back into a normal routine #and I said #‘say less…i know just the people who will read my recap #this was a therapeutic post

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idkfitememate · 1 year ago

Note

I really like jellyfish in fact I have 2 big plushy and 3 small plushy of jellyfish but they got burn down because of a house fire that destroyed 6 houses

Anyways! Freminet here was just floating around the surface and saw this cute little jellyfish head that was stuck in a plastic bag, freminet goes down to help the jellyfish but the jellyfish was scared that it goes down in the deep sea. Freminet was insisting to help the jelly so he goes down with it just to see this small jelly head is around this thin but long ass tentacles that stretches in the bottom of the sea (lion's mane jellyfish or a box jellyfish)

Or wrio just casually just sightseeng the bottom of the ocean and just saw these pretty cute genshin jellyfish just following this box jellyfish or a lion's mane jellyfish

I don't really know but I wanna see more of pretty yet scary animals becuz it would be fun to see peeps scared shztless anyway

I love youuu your creator animals is so entertaining that everytime you post I just stop reading others and go straight to oyu! 🐙 (sad there's no jellyfish emoji)

Wriothesley and Sigewinne Encounter

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Jellyfish Reader x Wriothesley & Sigewinne

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 187

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, fear and confusion on the others part tho lol

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : THATS WHERE YOUR WRONG🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼🪼

Anyway-

I know you had a specific Jellyfish in mind but like… Deep Sea Jellyfish- Just a big huge Jelly, fucking ginormous jelly-

I’m so sorry but I’ve been on a big animal ride lately (I love huge things - I MEAN ANIMALS) and deep sea animals are my jam I’m so sorry-

Also also, you flatter me to much!! Thank you for supporting me!!!

There was never meant to be a shadow cast over Fortress of Meropide.

It was unironically in a lighter part of the sea. So there was no reason for-

“Uhm… Wriothesley? You might want to look at this…” Sigewinne said.

The male tiredly walked over to the widow the small melusine stood pressed against, only to drop the tea cup he held and his eyes to go wide.

A giant fucking jellyfish.

That was all he could see outside in the sea. Thousands of long, thin tentacles and a few hundred thicker tentacles. All connected to a bulbous head that gently swayed in the current.

“What the…”

Why now did it show up? He was already preoccupied with the Primordial Sea, now this?? He gently cursed under his breath, flinching when Sigewinne gasped in offense. Though, before she could scold him, a whisper filled the room, mixed with the sounds of a roaring beast, that’s of which’s roar rocked the Fortress.

As the entire building shook, the Warden finally heard what the whispers said.

“Now… is that any… way… to greet… a…. G… U… E… S… T…?”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I’m so sorry I disappeared (and I probably will again after I post this tbh) but I just got a little tired and needed a short break. I’m fine and well just did a mental health break, ya know? I fell asleep in so many of my classes this week…

Anyway, hope you enjoy this! While I’m gone probably gonna work on a few longer things! Only reason this is getting posted is because it was already done and then I disappeared…

Anyway, see you guys later!.. I might make a quick post after this one… no animal tho-

૮꒰ྀི ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ ꒱ྀིაづ* ੈ♡‧₊˚꧁•⊹٭𝚂𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎!!٭⊹•꧂

#asks <3 #anon <3 #Deep Sea Jellyfish!Creator #I didn’t say this but now I want a jelly plushie…

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 years ago

Text

Ghost of You | J. Miller (Chapter One)

Series Summary / Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Pairing / Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count / 3.4K

Warnings / soft!Joel, reader is a widow, in depth discussions and descriptions of grief and depression, will have eventual smut, SLOW BURN.

Authors Note / I AM SO PROUD OF THIS LITTLE STORY YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I've wanted to write soft!Joel for so long so I hope you love it as much as I do! If you do enjoy it, reblogs, asks and likes are my drug so I'd love to know what you think! Also considering following for more!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. There were days that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw back the sheets of your bed and get up. For the first month, you think you managed to shower three times. No point if no-one was going to see you. You hadn’t left your house since the day of the funeral, life had become a monotonous circle of waking up, soaking your pillow with tears until you made yourself sick, throwing on the same clothes as before and then doing the same thing but led on the couch.

People had reassured you it would get easier. That each day it would subside, little by little, and you cursed them for being right. The longer you sat with your misery, the easier it became. One morning, a few months ago, you remember waking up, only this time you didn’t roll over and place your hand on the empty side of the bed and cry when you realized your husband wasn’t there anymore. You got up and showered, taking 15 minutes to brush the matted mess of your hair, and you dressed in new clothes.

You managed to walk to the market hall and purchase food with your ration cards and Maria had almost fallen over when she saw you in the aisle. That was the worst thing though. You’d been absent from life in Jackson for almost six months, and whenever you left your house people looked at you. Some still had those sympathetic eyes, telling you they were sorry for your loss, but there were the others who judged you. How pathetic you were for falling into despair like you had.

It wasn’t as if he’d met a violent end, he was quite lucky, actually. In this world death came at the hands of evil, whether it was being taken and tortured by raiders, or torn limb from limb by infected. Your husband had died peacefully, drifting off in his sleep in the hospital. The doctors had said it was cancer, which seemed painfully unkind to him. He’d never smoked in his life and was probably the healthiest person you’d ever known, but when was life ever fair?

You could tell they whispered once you’d passed. How dare she be so upset when my husband was killed on patrol? How lucky you were to have been able to say goodbye and hold his hand as he passed, when someone else turned into one of those things all alone. So now it wasn’t grief that kept you behind closed doors, but shame. Shame at knowing you thought they were right, that not being able to pull yourself together was selfish. Selfish to all the people who had managed to carry on with their lives after losing someone, selfish to the community for not being able to pull your weight. You were stuck and you had no idea what to do about it.

The only way you could face leaving your home these days was on Maria’s comforting arm. She’d been your friend for years, she and Tommy seemingly the only people who understood you. Didn’t force you to do anything, let you come to your own decisions when you felt ready. No-one would dare look at you or speak in hushed tones whilst she was around.

The sun was soaking Jackson now, it was summer, and you were grateful for the warmth of the sun on your skin, everything felt better with the sun on your back. With summer came one of your favourites of life’s simple pleasures. Strawberries. In the market you picked up as many as you could purchase after buying your essentials. Maria walked you home, helped you put away everything and then left with a comforting hug.

You carefully placed a large handful of the fruit in a bowl, rinsing it under running water. You were about to sit down on your couch to eat them, but the sun was filtering invitingly through your front windows. You stripped off your jacket, leaving you in your simple tank top and jeans before opening your front door to sit on the bench on your porch. You had sunglasses resting on your face, Tommy had found them on a patrol trip a few months ago and you were grateful for the safety you felt from them. People couldn’t walk past and meet your eye.

You were finishing your third strawberry when Tommy walked past, a man you didn’t know on his left shoulder. He took a look to your house and smiled on seeing you sat in a patch of sunlight, he waved, which you return, then he turns to the mysterious man on his left to say something before they start walking over.

“It’s good to see you out, honey,” He smiled, walking to lean over the railing of your porch, “What’cha got there?” He asked, motioning his head to your bowl of strawberries.

“You want one?” You asked, picking the bowl up and walking over to meet him, he gladly takes the biggest fruit in the bowl, pinching the spidery leaves off before putting the whole thing in his mouth, “How about you?” You asked, extending the bowl to Tommy’s mysterious companion.

He takes a strawberry as well, doing as Tommy did, but he takes smaller bites of the fruit, like he’s savoring it, “This here’s my brother Joel,” Tommy speaks, Joel extends his hand and you take it, shaking it softly in greeting, “He arrived a few weeks back, he’s been getting settled with his daught… with Ellie, but I thought it was high time he started pulling his weight.”

He had a smirk on his face as he said it and you could see the beginnings of a smile on Joel’s face too, “This one’s a real taskmaster,” You say to Joel, a smirk across your lips, “You’ll be wishing we had a retirement age soon enough.”

“Can’t think where he gets it from,” Joel chuckles, “You were takin’ notes all the time we worked together before weren’t you?”

Tommy smiles and nods, “Learnt from the best,” There’s another round of chuckles from the men, “Listen, we should get a move on, but I mean it, it’s nice to see you out like this.”

“Thanks Tommy,” You offer a small smiled, “Here, take a strawberry for the road.”

Both men take another fruit gladly before the way and make their way back down the street, leaving you on your own once more. You slide the sunglasses back onto your eyes and take your place in the path of sunlight on the bench. You sit there for a while, eating your strawberries, thinking about all the times you and your husband had done the same, holding hands as the sunset, cuddling up into his side when the temperature dropped. You realized suddenly that you weren’t sad. That the tears that usually threatened to fall were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was just a feeling of happiness, grateful that you’d experienced love in a world where it had seemed impossible. Sure, you wished he would reach over and take your hand in his like he used to, squeeze it and place a soft kiss to your palm, but you were no longer ruled by the grief that had consumed you all those months ago.

“She seemed nice.” Joel muses as he walks with Tommy.

“She’s lovely,” He replies simply, “Just had a pretty rough time of it recently.”

Joel hums in acknowledgement as his boots hit the ground in time with Tommy’s, “When you said it was good to see her out, what did you mean?”

Tommy sighs at his question, but not out of frustration like he usually did when Joel asked him questions, more out of sympathy, “Her husband died about a year ago,” He begins to explain, “Nothin’ violent or anythin’ like that, the doctors reckoned it was cancer, but she took it real hard, I don’t think she got out of bed for the first week, and then after his funeral she just kinda withdrew, she’s been all alone in that house for months, refuses to leave unless it’s with Maria because people talk.”

“People talk about her?” Joel is shocked, in a world where loss in inevitable, what makes someone else’s grief less worthy than others?

“We’re safe here,” Tommy says, steering him into a building at the end of the street, “But that doesn’t mean people don’t die when they’re out there,” He references his patrol men, he’d lost a few which he would always hold heavy in his heart, “Maria told me once that when she took her to the market a few months ago, some busybody wives were talkin’ about how unfair it was she got to say goodbye, that he’d been sedated and it was easy for him.”

Joel stops in his tracks, letting Tommy walk in front of him. They’re in the gun store, not for anything in particular, just so Joel knows where everything is so he can stop following his brother round like a lost puppy. His mind inevitably wanders to his own grief in this moment. The pain of losing his own daughter, the all-consuming feeling of ‘what is the point in life anymore?’ without her. The scar on the right side of his face and the hearing loss in the same ear when he’d tried to end it all. He hadn’t been strong, not really. If he hadn’t of flinched that would have been it, the easy way out, as some would have said. He’d struggled for a long time with his survival but that didn’t mean his was worth more than your grief, or yours more than his. It wasn’t that simple.

“I spoke to them, told ‘em if I heard ‘em gossiping again then we’d have no issues moving them on their way, but I suppose people are always going to talk, they just do it where we can’t hear them.”

“I’m guessin’ she knows?”

“Of course she knows, Joel, that’s why she shuts herself away, easier that way I guess.”

“Doesn’t make it fair though, feelin’ like you can’t leave your house because people are gonna judge the way your husband died.”

“She’s been better recently,” Tommy speaks, leaning against the table behind him, “Still won’t really go anywhere without Maria, but seein’ her today, it was nice.” Joel nods his way through Tommy explaining the signing out system for guns, follows him around to the stables where he shakes the hand of the young girl in charge of caring for them and then settles himself next to his brother at the bar for a drink. All the while, he can’t stop his mind drifting back to you and your loneliness, your despair at your loss, or the rotten porch step he’d noticed at the front of your house that might just give him the reason to get a little closer to you.

A few mornings later, there is a soft knock at your door. Your face contorts in confusion, Maria wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow. Leaving the coffee pot to its filtering, you walk slowly to the door, opening it to find Joel stood on your porch, toolbox in hand and planks of wood resting against the railing.

“Good mornin’,” He croons, “Not interrupin’ anythin’ am I?”

You shake your head, “Can I help you?” You asked, wincing slightly at the defensive tone of your voice.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but when I passed with Tommy the other day, I noticed your porch step was rotting,” He points to the old timbers behind him, “I’m surprised you’ve not fallen through it already, so do you mind if I fix them?”

Your exterior softens and a small smile pulls at your lips, “Of course,” You say, “I’m just making some coffee, do you want some?”

“If you don’t mind sharin’, then I’d love some.”

You leave him on the porch to get started. Your mug is already set next to the coffee pot, you open the cupboard and instinctively reach for the only other mug you ever needed. It had meant nothing to you when you moved in. It was white and had a pattern of sausage dogs printed on it, but it had always been his. You hold it in your hands when you realise what you’ve done. His face flashes behind your eyes. He’s standing in front of you, his hair tousled from sleep, his voice still low and raspy. He thanks you as he takes hold of his mug, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You set it back in the cupboard like it had burned your palms, reaching instead of the plain black mug at the back of the cupboard.

You rest your palms on the counter, closing your eyes to take deep breaths, feeling the weight of your body through to the ground. Once you don’t feel the wave of sadness flowing through you any longer, your quickly pour the coffee into the mugs, taking them out to the porch where Joel is currently working to take the rotten boards up, not that it’s taking much work, a little force from his hands and the wood in crumbling.

“Here you go,” You say softly, setting the mug down next to his toolbox, “I hope you don’t mind it black, I spent all my rations on strawberries this week, so no milk.”

“Just how I like it,” He says, looking up at you, “Thank you.”

You take a seat on the bench out front, it’s been a long time since you had the company of someone that wasn’t Maria or Tommy and it was nice to watch him work whilst you sat in the sun.

“Thank you, by the way, I didn’t realise it had gotten so bad,” You remark, and before you can think about what you’re saying, you add, “My husband always used to handle this stuff.”

You press your fingers to your lips as Joel’s movement still slightly, he knows what you’ve said, but he continues working, “It’s alright, this is what I used to do before all of this, so I’ve got an eye for rotting wood.”

“You were a builder?” You asked, desperate to steer the conversation away from your loss.

“I was, Tommy and I were contractors, worked on a bunch of different sites together, kinda annoying the world ended, we’d just booked a really big job, was gonna pay the bills and then some for once, my daughter had already spent the money on a trip to Disney.”

“Ellie?” You enquire, remembering the name Tommy had given.

He shakes his head as he sits back on his knees, coffee mug in hand, “No, she’s not mine by blood, she came along a lot later, I lost my daughter on outbreak day.”

“Oh,” You say simply, “I’m sorry Joel.”

“It’s alright,” He shrugs, taking a mouthful of coffee, “I struggled, for a long time, didn’t see how it was fair, but it’s been easier recently, all because of Ellie, and this.” He motions around to the town.

You’re silent for a while, your gaze flits between Joel working and the dregs of liquid in your cup. You understand in a way. The loss is different, but it’s loss all the same.

“What was his name?” Joel asks quietly as he’s rooting through his toolbox for some nails, “Your husband.”

“Mark,” You speak quietly, realizing quickly it was probably too quiet for him to hear, “His name was Mark.”

“Were you together long?”

“Eighteen years,” You answer, “He was my neighbour in the first QZ I was in, I’d lost my parents a few years before the outbreak so I was on my own, he moved in a year later and would always wake me up every morning when he stomped about to go to work,” You were smiling, recounting how you’d met, “One morning I’d had enough, I went right over there, pounded on the door and gave him what for. Said I was tired of waking up to the sound of his work boots every morning, and I guess the rest is history.”

Joel smiles as he reaches for his hammer, nailing in the new boards, “Love at first sight?” He asked, worried at first that it’s too personal a question.

“Something like that,” You offer in reply, “I guess it just kinda happened really, like most things do.”

There’s silence between you again as Joel hammers in the last of the nails. He stands up, pressing his full weight on the step, “All done,” He declares, shutting away his toolbox, “Don’t have to worry about you fallin’ through it now.”

You stand up to admire his handiwork, you must admit he was good at what he did. Efficient but thorough, the step had never looked so good, even when you’d first moved in, “Thank you Joel,” You place a hand on his arm and give it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” He bends to pick up his coffee mug and hands it over to you, “Nothin’ else need sorting?”

“I mean, nothing that risks death or serious injury,” You jest, “But there is something you might be able to help with.”

You gesture for him to follow you through the house, setting the dirty mugs in the sink as you pass through. You open the back door and motion for him to join you. The garden is a mess, there’s no beating around the bush here. The grass is out of control, but that’s because you haven’t been able to go and get your gas ration for the lawnmower. The decking out back is fine, Mark’s handiwork in the year before he died, but you point to the unfinished table and chairs in the corner, or rather the pile of wood that never got to become the table and chairs.

“Mark was going to build some table and chairs, you know, so we could have guests over or sit out here in the evenings, but he got sick before he could really start,” There’s a lump in your throat now and you’re willing yourself not to cry, not now, in front of a man you barely know, but nothing you do can quell the feeling inside of you and a few tears fall down your cheek, “God, I’m so sorry,” You sniffed, “I’ve done so well not to do this today.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Joel soothes, he pressed a firm hand to your shoulder for comfort but keeps his distance, which you are grateful for.

He gives you a moment to compose yourself, watching closely as you rub the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath, “It would just be nice to have somewhere to sit where people aren’t going to watch me.”

Joel’s heart almost breaks at your words. He doesn’t know you, not in the slightest, but the thought that you felt like you had to hide away, in your own community, the place that was meant to make you feel some semblance of normal, was preposterous to him.

“I’ll build you something, don’t worry,” He reassures, “Tommy has me on patrol for the next few days, but as soon as I can, I promise I’ll build you the best damn table and chairs you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh now, through the remnants of your tears, “Thank you.” Is all you can manage to say.

He’s turning around then, you go to follow him, but he stops in his tracks, eyes admiring the trellis against the back wall of your home, full in bloom of sweet peas, “These are beautiful.” He comments.

“They’re sweet peas,” You inform him, “Maria found the seeds for me, said something about it being good for me to have something to put my energy into,” You shrug, “I guess she was right.”

You reach out and pluck one of the deep purple blooms, “These are my favourites,” You say, turning the bloom over in your fingers before you hand it to him, he looks confused, “Sweet peas are meant to symbolize kindness and friendship,” You explain, “Also fond goodbyes, but I think kindness is more appropriate here.”

He takes the bloom and tucks the stem into the breast pocket, the petals of the flower peeking out where you can both see it, “Well then, thank you,” He nods, “I’ll see you soon, sweet pea.”

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punchdrunkdoc · 23 days ago

Text

Part 4, Chapter 13

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

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————–

PART 4

Chapter 13

Almost 3 weeks later

Calina approached the small suburban house on leaden feet. She wanted nothing more than to get back on her bike, return to her hotel room and lock herself away from the world.

But that was the old Calina. The one who ran when things got hard. The one who hid behind serums, and shut herself off from her loved ones, instead of confronting the pain of being human.

She was trying to be better.

Her intensive counselling sessions with Dr Gossard were helping. The tablets she’d been prescribed - proper FDA-approved and widely used anti-anxiety medication - was helping. And having an explanation for what was wrong with her had helped the most.

After their first conversation three weeks ago, Dr Gossard had ordered a PET scan of her brain. And the images had revealed that her amygdala was well and truly fucked. Of course, that wasn’t the actual scientific analysis. The neurologist had spoken of ‘unco-ordinated pathways’ and ‘signalling irregularities’. Dr Gossard’s theory was that her amygdala was underdeveloped to start with - due to the Red Room’s mind control - and the modified serum Melina designed for her had damaged it further.

Anya had come at it from a different perspective. “Think of your amygdala like a filing cabinet,” she’d explained. “Each drawer contains an emotion, with instructions on how to recognise it, and how to react to it, and even how to cope with it. Thanks to the Red Room, you - and the rest of us Widows - are lacking some of those instructions. Especially the ones about coping - that’s why you struggled so much after the Vanishing. But when you took the serum, you essentially tipped your filing cabinet over, emptied it out, and now all your files are jumbled up and scattered all over the floor.”

The metaphor - whether it was strictly accurate or not - had helped. It proved that what she was going through wasn’t normal. And it gave her a framework for getting better - she just had to re-wire her brain. Get those files back in the right order.

It sounded impossible, but Dr Gossard assured it would happen - with enough therapy and time.

Which meant she wasn’t cured yet. She still struggled to recognise what she was feeling. She still found her emotions overwhelming, and she still had moments where she broke down or lashed out. But she had some strategies to help her now. Most had come from Dr Gossard.

And one was tucked away at the bottom of her backpack, contained within a little glass vial.

It was the last dose of serum - the one that had fallen under her bed weeks ago, before the battle in New York and everything that had followed. She’d come across it a few days ago by accident when retrieving one of Nika’s toys. The sight of that little ampoule of amber liquid had forced all the air from Calina’s lungs. She’d sat on the floor, cradling it in her palm for what felt like hours, battling the desire to find a syringe and inject it into herself. She could almost feel the numbing relief it would bring…

But then Nika had grabbed the toy from her other hand, and woofed happily. Calina had glanced down into her dogs sweet brown eyes, and felt a wave of tenderness swell over her. And in that moment - just for that moment - she didn’t feel the need to numb anything. She wanted to bask in that love, and the bond she felt with Nika.

So she’d shoved the vial in her backpack, where it had lived ever since.

It was comforting, knowing it was there. Just in case one day it all got too much.

It was a safety net.

And it gave her the courage to come here tonight, to this little house in Brooklyn.

Something she should have done long before now.

Calina took a deep breath, clenched the strap of her backpack, and knocked on Karen’s door.

———

She was greeted with a hug, Karen’s slender arms clenching her around the shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Calina replied, her own arms around Karen’s waist.

She felt a tug on her jacket. “Lina!”

She glanced down at Izzy, her little arms outstretched. “Hug?”

“Of course you get a hug.”

She swapped Karen’s embrace for the weight of Izzy in her arms, those little arms now squeezing her around the neck. She breathed in the scent of innocence, and had to fight back tears. This was what she’d been denying herself all these years?

She’d always felt a bond with Izzy, from the moment she’d held her in the crook of her arm and stroked her soft cheek. But it was nothing compared to the reality of her feelings.

She loved this little girl. The strength of the emotion was dizzying. She felt her heart almost explode with it.

Izzy leaned back in her arms and smiled, oblivious to the seismic shift taking place within Calina. “Doggy?” she asked in her sweet piping voice.

Calina laughed, a wet, tearful sound. “You only want me for my dog, don’t you?” She kissed the toddler on her forehead and apologised. “Sorry, Nika had to stay at home for this trip.”

Izzy stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout and stared up at her through her lashes.

Calina laughed again. “Where did she learn that?” She looked at Karen for the answer, expecting to see her smiling at her daughter’s antics. Instead she stood watching Calina intently, a frown furrowing her brow.

“What is it?” Calina asked, letting Izzy slide to the floor.

Karen shook her head. “I don’t know. There’s something so…different…about you.”

Calina bit her lip. Then nodded. “I have a lot to tell you.”

———

They were sitting at the kitchen table, a bottle of wine between them. Izzy had been put to bed half an hour ago, and the two adults had retreated to the back of the house to indulge in a glass of Malbec.

“I usually just drink beer with Frank, so this is a nice change,” Karen commented as she pulled out the cork.

“Where is he tonight?”

“At his place.”

“I thought he was practically living here now.”

“He is, but he still has a couple of months left on his lease. I think it's good for him to have somewhere he can escape to when it’s all getting a bit too much for him. Besides, he always makes himself scarce when—”

“When what?”

Karen shook her head. “Nothing.” She glanced at her watch again. The movement was subtle, but Calina was trained to notice these things.

“What’s going on? Are you expecting someone?” Calina asked.

“Nice try, trying to change the subject. But we’re here to talk about you.” She leaned back in her seat and pinned Calina with a stare - and Calina saw the echos of the investigative reporter she once was. “So talk. What’s been going on with you? Why did it take you almost two months to come see me, and why have you been avoiding Matt?”

Calina winced at the sound of his name. She dodged Karen’s probing gaze and played with the stem of her glass. “It’s a long story.”

“How long?”

“It starts three years ago. After I had my…episode…in the Memorial Park.”

She glanced up to see Karen frowning at her again. "Really?"

"Really," Calina nodded. She dropped her gaze again, took a deep breath, then told Karen everything. About going to Melina. Taking the serum. The fight in New York against Thanos’ army. Her injuries, how long it had taken to heal them, and the problems she’d been having since. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you when I woke up. I was just…I honestly thought I was going crazy. I’ve never felt so out of control in my life, and it- it scared me.”

Karen said nothing. She just stood up and walked to the window looking out onto her garden. She stayed there, staring out into the darkness, her back to Calina.

“Karen?”

Karen turned around, one arm crossed over her stomach. “All that time…all those years…you were lying to me?”

Calina bit her lip, and nodded.

“You knew how much it hurt me when Matt kept his secrets from me. I thought he was my friend, and he deceived and manipulated me. And then you did the exact same thing. You came here for years, talking with me, laughing with me, playing with my daughter, and bringing her presents, and making her love you, and all that time you felt nothing? All that time it was just an act.”

“No!” Calina protested, hating the sound of betrayal in Karen’s voice. “I mean, it was sort of an act, but it was all real as well.” She scrubbed her forehead, trying to find the words to describe something she barely understood herself. “I was still feeling everything, it was just buried. Cordoned off. But some of it always seeped through - especially around Izzy. It was as if I loved her so much, there was no way to block it completely. And I do love her. I love you - you’re my best friend Karen. And I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you, but I knew taking that serum was wrong, and I couldn’t admit what I was doing. I was too ashamed. And I’m sorry for being so weak, and taking the easy way out, but I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t know how else to survive!”

She felt the sharp, shallow rise and fall of her chest, her breath hitching as she tried not to cry. But she lost the battle. A sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in her hands as her tears broke free.

She felt gentle hands on her shoulders as Karen crouched down beside her. “Shhh, Calina. It’s okay. I’m not blaming you for taking the serum. I understand that part of it - I was there, remember? After the Memorial Park? I saw what state you were in, and I was so worried about you back then. But then you turned up a few months later and you were so much better, and I was so relieved that I—”

Calina sat back up and wiped her eyes. “What?” she whispered.

Karen sat back down next to her. “I guess I was just glad I didn’t have to worry about you. I was pregnant by that point and stressed out about the baby, and I knew something was wrong with David. I was glad I didn’t have to worry about you, so I never really pried into why you were suddenly so much better.”

“I wouldn’t have told you, even if you had.”

“And that’s what hurts the most - the lying. So please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

Karen blew out a long breath. “In the spirit of honesty…I should probably tell you that Matt’s on his way here.”

Calina jerked her head up. “What?”

“He’s coming over for dinner.” She looked at her watch again - openly this time. “He’s late, as usual.”

Calina staggered to her feet, shaking her head. “I have to go. I can't be here."

Karen grabbed her arm. “No. Please stay - he’s desperate to see you.”

“I can’t. Karen, I can’t. Not like this.” She could already feel herself starting to come apart, all those unnamed and confusing emotions rushing into her like a torrent. Her heart started hammering in her chest, and the urge to run was overwhelming.

“Calina, he loves you. He—”

“He loved the old me - the one he thought was strong, and brave and had her shit together. But she doesn’t exist anymore, Karen. I’m a mess, now. I’m weak and a coward and—”

“You’re none of those things.”

She could feel tears fill her eyes again as she pleaded with her friend to understand. “Please,” she said on a broken whisper. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

Karen let go of her wrist. “Okay. Okay. If you don’t want to see him, can you at least call him? He’s been putting on an act lately - like you did - but I can see how difficult he’s finding all of this.”

Guilt welled up inside Calina. She could only imagine how he must be feeling after suddenly being catapulted into this strange new world. But the guilt wasn’t strong enough to override her fear. She opened her mouth to tell Karen that she’d try to call him, but a knock sounded from the front door.

The two women froze.

Karen gave her a look. It was a plea to reconsider, and resigned acceptance all at once. Then she sighed and left the kitchen. Calina heard the front door open moments later.

“Oh, hey,” Karen said in greeting, her voice breathy and high-pitched. “I, um, figured you weren’t going to make it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Calina gasped at the sound of Matt’s voice. Even quiet and muffled by the kitchen door, it was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. Because it was him.

Finally, after all these years, it was him.

He was really back.

Calina clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. She wanted to run through the door and into his arms and have the last five years be nothing but a terrible dream…

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t make herself take even a tiny step forward.

Instead she lifted her jacket from the back of her chair, and snuck out the back door. She moved slowly, silently, desperate not to attract his attention. Eventually she made it through the back gate, down the path, and onto the main road. But just as she swung her leg over her bike, the pounding of footsteps rang out behind her. Then, “Calina!”

Her head whipped around, and she gasped again.

Because there he was.

He wasn’t a muted voice down a hallway. Or a blurry photograph on her phone. He wasn’t a conjured memory, or a visitor to her dreams, indistinct and ephemeral.

He was there, 20 feet away from her. Real and alive.

She drank him in.

The way he stood on the sidewalk, one foot frozen in front of the other, hand outstretched as if he was trying to hold her place with the force of his will. His dark hair, slightly dishevelled; his stubble, so much longer than she was used to; and his eyes hidden from her behind familiar red glasses.

He was alive.

He licked his lips— and oh, his beautiful, curved top lip was split and healing from a fist. And that somehow made him seem even more alive, because of course he was Daredevil, as well as Matt.

“Calina.”

Her heart stopped.

But then he took a step towards her. “Callie—” And the sound of that name on his lips broke her. She wasn’t his Callie anymore. She hadn’t been that person for five long, tortured years.

And she didn’t know if she ever could be again.

She wrenched her eyes from his, started her bike and tore away from him down the street.

———

The ride back to the hotel was a blur. All she remembered was clutching the handlebars so tight she thought the skin over her knuckles would split. As if her grip on the bike was the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million pieces.

She strode into the lobby after parking her bike, and veered straight for the bar. She couldn’t face going up to her room, where there’d be no distractions from her thoughts. And she really needed a drink.

Or five.

“Shot of Vodka” she ordered. She collapsed onto the stool, propped her elbows on the marbled bar top and dropped her head in her hands.

Almost immediately, the man who’d been seated three stools down sidled up to her. “Let me get that for you, sweetheart.”

Calina flinched at the pet name - the one Matt would often use. But whereas he’d said it with loving affection, this man laced it with oily smarm. “I can buy my own drink.” she replied without lifting her head.

“Yeah, take a hike sleazeball,” a voice chimed in. A very distinctive voice - one which made Calina’s head whip around. She watched in disbelief as her long-lost sister jumped onto the stool next to her.

“Hey,” Yelena greeted her, her raspy voice casual, as if they’d made plans to meet up here. As if they’d just seen each other yesterday…instead of five and a half years ago.

“Hey?” Calina parroted. “Just, ‘Hey’?”

Yelena shrugged.

Calina leaned over and pulled the other Widow into a crushing hug. She felt Yelena’s arms snake around her waist, her hold much looser.

Calina let Yelena go, and sat back. She felt the familiar burn of tears behind her eyes, but strangely no other symptoms of an impending breakdown reared their head. Maybe the last hour had wrung her out so completely, even her screwed-up emotions were taking a break to recover.

“Where have you been?” Yelena hadn’t been in Wakanda when she’d woken up. She hadn’t been in Geneva, either. After the battle in New York, she’d basically dropped off the face of the planet.

“Around. Went to see Melina for a while. Then just…” Another shrug. “Anya said you were staying here, so I thought I’d say ‘Hey’, and yell at you for stealing my dog.”

Calina recognised the last bit as a joke. But there was no levity to it. There was barely any inflection in Yelena’s voice at all. She seemed listless, flat. Smaller than Calina remembered, and lacking her usual fire.

Grief did that to people.

“I’m so sorry about Natasha.”

The bartender arrived with her drink and Calina passed it to Yelena before ordering two more. Yelena threw back the shot and slammed the glass onto the bar top. “Ironic, isn't it.” she said. “The whole world got their loved ones returned, but I lost mine in the process. Wait - is that irony? I always forget what it means. Maybe it’s not irony. Maybe it’s just my eternal bad fucking luck.”

Calina didn’t know what to say. And she knew from experience, that there wasn’t anything she could say that would ease Yelena’s pain. So she just sat beside her friend and drank.

“Did you go to see him tonight?” Yelena asked after her sixth shot.

“Matt?”

“No, Captain fucking America. Of course Matt.”

“No,” Calina replied, twirling her wine glass on the bar top - she’d given up on vodka after shot number four. “I went to see Karen, a friend. Matt came, though. I- I didn’t know he would be there, so I panicked and ran.”

She could still hear his voice as he called her name on the street. His deep, beautiful voice. It had been full of such hurt, and confusion, and disbelief…and a thousand other things she couldn’t recognise. She felt the burn of acid in her gut, guilt eating away at her. And she knew the only reason she wasn’t falling off the deep end and having another emotionally unstable crazy woman episode was because the alcohol was numbing the worst of her emotions.

So she took another large sip.

“Why did you run?”

Calina stared at her in disbelief. “Didn’t you hear what I…did? With the serum?”

“Yeah. I heard. Anya told me when I checked in yesterday. Who cares?”

“‘Who cares’?”

“Yeah, as far as I’m concerned those five years don’t count. The news is already referring to it as a blip. So that’s what it was. A blip. Meaningless. All that matters is what you do now.”

A blip.

Calina felt her jaw clench. The most cataclysmic event in human history…reduced to a fucking blip. A minor inconvenience. Like the world merely took a wrong turn on a road trip, and was now back on track.

All that grief. All that pain.

Reduced to a fucking blip.

It was insulting.

Infuriating.

Calina felt her gut burn again - in anger this time, instead of guilt. White noise filled her head, and she squeezed the glass she was holding so tight it shattered.

“Fuck!” Yelena yelled, the most animated she’d been all night.

Calina shook off the wine coating her hand and slid from her stool. “I need some air,” she gritted out.

Yelena found her outside moments later, pacing the small alley beside the hotel. She shoved a wad of napkins at her. “You’re bleeding.”

Calina glanced at the jagged cut across her palm, the oozing blood appearing black in the moonlight. She didn’t feel the pain.

She only felt rage.

Rage that was building by the second. Rage that felt like it would detonate insider her, blow her apart if she didn’t do something.

So she spun around, pulled back her arm and punched the brick wall.

Hard.

She felt the pain now. But it just fuelled her on. She cocked her arm, ready for another hit, but Yelena grabbed it instead, twisting it behind her back. “What the fuck are you doing, Calina?”

Calina wrenched herself out of the hold. “Go away, Yelena.”

“Not while you’re like this.”

She pushed the shorter Widow back. “Go!”

Yelena stumbled back a step, startled. Then she narrowed her eyes. Clenched her fists.

And attacked.

Calina dodged the first punch, catching Yelena’s fist in her hand. She grunted at the impact against her cut palm. Then she flung the hand away and followed up with a jab to Yelena’s flank.

Yelena retaliated by sweeping Calina’s legs.

And so it went on, the only sound in the dark, damp alleyway the thud of kicks landing and punches hitting, and both women breathing hard as they took their anger out on each other.

Until eventually Yelena had Calina pinned on the ground. Both were flagging by that point. Neither had been out in the field for over a month, and they were feeling the effects of that - as well as all the alcohol sloshing around their systems.

“Yield?” Yelena panted.

“Since when do we yield?”

“Since I’m fucking tired, and sore, and want to get out of this rat-infested alley.”

At that, all the fight went out of Calina. She dropped her head to the ground and nodded. “Okay, okay. I yield.”

Yelena stood up and offered her hand. Calina took it, and dragged herself to her feet.

She pressed her fingers to her cheek, wincing at what was bound to become a spectacular bruise tomorrow. Various other aches and pains let themselves known - including the torn skin on her knuckles and the sharp wound across her palm. She prodded at the cut, checking for any glass shards, and flexed her fingers, assessing movement.

“You good?” Yelena asked.

“Yeah. No tendon damage.”

“I wasn’t asking about your hand. I was asking if you were good. Are you over whatever the hell that was?”

“That was what I was trying to explain to you. That’s what I’ve been like ever since I stopped taking the serum - I’m either collapsing in on myself, or I’m lashing out and hurting people. It’s why I can’t see Matt—”

Yelena scoffed. “You don’t think your vigilante boyfriend can handle you?”

“He shouldn’t have to!”

“I think he’d feel differently, if you gave him the choice.”

Calina shook her head. “Why are you pushing this? You were never a fan of me and Matt.”

“Because you’re wasting what she gave you,” she growled. “And it’s pissing me off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Natasha. She died- no, she sacrificed herself - to try to make everything right. To put the world back together. My sister died to give you another chance with Matt, and you’re throwing that away. It’s like you’re spitting on her death.”

The words stole Calina's breath - even more effectively than the elbow she’d taken to the solar plexus just five minutes ago. “Yelena,” she whispered. “I- I didn’t mean—”

Yelena shut her down. “Forget it,” she sighed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Calina bit her lip.

“Make sure you clean that hand. And ice your cheek.”

Calina nodded, feeling a hint of relief. If Yelena was fussing over her injuries, she couldn’t be too mad at her. “Thanks. I will. And…I’ll think about what you said.”

“Good. Do that. Otherwise I’ll come find you again, and beat you up some more.”

Tough love, Yelena-style.

Calina smiled.

She’d really missed it.

————–

Chapter 14

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