#wovedeep

[popstarbarbiee]

Of Lost and Found

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The rain fell hard and fast, turning the city streets into rivers of gray and gold under the lamplight. The cold wind cut through the air, biting into anyone caught outside without shelter. But none of that mattered to The Deep as he ran, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his clothes soaked through, clinging to his skin. His feet pounded against the pavement, the pain in his chest intensifying with every step.

He needed to get away. Away from Vought, away from Homelander — away from the prison his life had become.

It had been building for weeks, the tension between him and Homelander escalating into something unbearable. The possessiveness, the control, the cruelty disguised as affection — it had been choking him, drowning him in a life he no longer recognized. And tonight, something had snapped. A cruel word, a threat too sharp to ignore, and suddenly The Deep found himself running. Just running, with no clear direction, no destination. Only a desperate need to escape.

But now, as he turned down a dark alley, the reality of his situation began to weigh on him. Where could he go? What life did he have outside of Vought? Outside of Homelander’s shadow?

And then, like a beacon in the storm, one name echoed in his mind: Logan.

---

Logan sat in the corner booth of a small, dingy bar on the outskirts of the city. It was the kind of place no one bothered to look for heroes — or washed-up killers like him. The lights were dim, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. It was quiet tonight, just a few patrons scattered around, nursing their drinks in silence.

Logan’s beer sat untouched in front of him. He wasn’t here for the alcohol. He was here to think, to escape his own thoughts — or at least try to. But as usual, his mind wouldn’t let him rest.

Ever since that day at Vought Tower, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about The Deep. Seeing him like that, trapped in Homelander’s grasp, had haunted Logan. He had tried to push it down, tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his problem. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. He had never been able to just walk away from someone in pain — especially not someone he had once cared for.

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. Maybe he should’ve done more. Maybe he should’ve fought harder. But he couldn’t save someone who didn’t want to be saved, could he?

The sound of the door opening broke through his thoughts, and Logan looked up instinctively. His heart stopped.

It was The Deep.

Soaked to the bone, shivering, his hair plastered to his face, The Deep stood just inside the entrance, his wide eyes searching the room frantically until they locked on Logan.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words, with everything they hadn’t said in years.

Then The Deep took a shaky step forward, his breath hitching as if he were about to break. “Logan…”

Logan was on his feet before he even realized what he was doing. He crossed the bar in long, purposeful strides, his eyes never leaving The Deep’s face. When he reached him, Logan stopped just short, his hands hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if he should touch him.

But The Deep made the decision for him. He all but collapsed into Logan’s arms, his body trembling, his hands clutching desperately at Logan’s jacket as if he were afraid he might disappear. Logan wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, letting The Deep bury his face in his chest. He could feel the wetness of tears soaking into his shirt, could hear the quiet, broken sobs muffled against his skin.

Logan held him tighter, his hand coming up to gently stroke The Deep’s wet hair, his heart aching in his chest. “I gotcha,” Logan murmured, his voice low and rough but gentle. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

For a long while, they just stood there in the middle of the bar, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to the world around them. The patrons at the bar didn’t even glance their way, too wrapped up in their own lives to notice the quiet moment of vulnerability between the two men.

Eventually, Logan gently guided The Deep over to the booth, sitting him down and sliding in next to him. The Deep’s hands were still trembling, his breathing uneven as he wiped at his face, trying to compose himself.

“I… I didn’t know where else to go,” The Deep whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t stay there. Not with him. I just… I had to get out.”

Logan nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “You did the right thing, getting out,” he said quietly. “You don’t deserve to be stuck in that kind of hell.”

The Deep let out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering with guilt and doubt. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For everything… for leaving you, for choosing… him.” He spat the word like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I was so lost, Logan. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just… I thought maybe being with Homelander would make me feel powerful, like I had control over something in my life. But it’s only made everything worse.”

Logan reached out, his rough hand resting gently on The Deep’s arm. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said quietly. “We both made mistakes. We both messed up. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve better than this.”

The Deep’s eyes filled with tears again, and he let out a soft, broken laugh. “Better?” he asked, his voice laced with self-loathing. “Logan, I’ve done terrible things. I’ve hurt people. I’m not… I’m not worth saving.”

Logan’s grip tightened, his eyes fierce as he looked into The Deep’s watery gaze. “That’s bullshit,” he growled. “You’re more than what you’ve done. And yeah, maybe you’ve messed up, maybe you’ve hurt people. But that doesn’t mean you’re beyond redemption. You’re not Homelander, Deep. You’ve got a heart — and you still care. That’s more than I can say for half the so-called heroes in this world.”

The Deep’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at Logan, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He had spent so long believing he wasn’t worth anything more than what Vought had made him into — that he was nothing more than a tool, a pawn in their games. But hearing Logan say those words, seeing the belief in his eyes, it made something crack open inside him. It made him want to believe it too.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” The Deep admitted quietly, his voice small. “I don’t know where to start.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave The Deep’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said. “You just took the first step by getting out of there. That’s the hardest part. The rest… we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

The Deep swallowed hard, nodding as he wiped at his eyes again. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Logan shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t get to decide that,” he said. “I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, The Deep let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The weight of the world that had been pressing down on his chest lifted just a little, enough for him to breathe again. He looked at Logan, really looked at him, and for the first time in months, he felt something close to hope.

“Thank you,” The Deep whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the bar around them.

Logan just nodded, his hand still resting on The Deep’s arm, offering him the kind of quiet, steady comfort that only Logan could provide.

For the first time in a long time, The Deep didn’t feel like he was drowning.

He was safe. He was with Logan.

And for now, that was enough.

[popstarbarbiee]

Casual Tides

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The sun was setting over Los Angeles, casting a warm, golden glow across the city. It had been months since The Deep had left that beach, since he had watched Logan disappear into the ocean’s depths. He had spent every waking moment since then searching the coastline, diving into the darkest, coldest waters, hoping against hope that somehow, Logan had survived.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the hope had faded, replaced by a hollow emptiness. He had returned to his old life, thrown himself back into the chaos of the world, trying to forget. But nothing could fill the void that Logan had left behind.

It wasn’t until he found himself in Los Angeles, on yet another meaningless mission for Vought, that he started hearing the rumors. They whispered through the bars and back alleys, stories of a man with claws who couldn’t be killed, seen in the company of another — a man in a red suit with a mouth that never stopped running.

The Deep hadn’t wanted to believe it. He had convinced himself that Logan was gone. It was easier that way. But when he heard those stories, something stirred within him, something he couldn’t ignore. He had to know. He had to see for himself.

---

The club was loud, the music pulsating through the walls, making the floor beneath his feet vibrate. The Deep pushed through the throngs of people, his heart racing, his mind a blur of confusion and nerves. He had never liked places like this — the strobe lights, the pounding bass, the way everyone seemed to be drowning in their own hedonism. But this was where the rumors had led him, to this underground club on the outskirts of the city.

He made his way to the back, to the private rooms where the noise was muffled, and the air was thick with the scent of cigars and sweat. He could hear laughter echoing from behind one of the doors, a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a chill down his spine. It was a laugh he recognized, a laugh that made his heart clench with something he couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. What if it was true? What if Logan was alive? And what if... what if he wasn’t alone?

Taking a deep breath, The Deep pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with smoke. The first thing he saw was the unmistakable flash of red — Deadpool, sprawled out on a worn leather couch, holding a glass of something amber and laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world. And next to him, leaning casually against the bar, was Logan. He was alive, whole, and seemingly untouched by the time that had passed. His leather jacket hung open, and a cigar was perched between his fingers, smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

For a moment, The Deep couldn’t breathe. It was as if the world had stopped, everything narrowing down to the sight of Logan, alive and well, standing so close, yet feeling impossibly far away.

Deadpool noticed him first, his masked face turning toward the door. “Well, well, well! Look who decided to join the party!” he exclaimed, his voice oozing with sarcasm and charm. “If it isn’t Fishsticks! Long time no see, buddy!”

Logan turned slowly, his eyes locking onto The Deep’s, and the smile faded from his face. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.

The Deep took a shaky step forward, his voice barely a whisper. “Logan...”

Logan’s expression was unreadable, his eyes cold, distant. “You should go,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth The Deep had once known.

The Deep felt his heart break all over again. “I thought you were dead,” he said, his voice trembling. “I searched for you. I didn’t stop looking, Logan. And now... now I find you here, with him?” He shot a glance at Deadpool, who was watching the exchange with a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding in front of him.

Deadpool clapped his hands together. “Oh, this is better than any telenovela! Please, don’t let me interrupt. Continue with the angst and heartbreak. I live for this stuff!”

Logan shot him a glare. “Shut up, Wade.”

Deadpool raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be the good little sidekick and stay out of it. But you better make this worth my time, claw boy.”

The Deep ignored Deadpool, his focus entirely on Logan. “Why didn’t you come back? Why did you just... leave me?”

Logan sighed, setting his cigar down on the bar. “I did it for you,” he said, his voice gruff, yet tinged with something that might have been regret. “You were right. I’m dangerous. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You think this is better?” The Deep asked, his voice rising with a mix of anger and pain. “You think running away with *him*,” he spat, glancing at Deadpool, “was better than trying to work through it together?”

Deadpool rolled his eyes behind his mask. “Hey now, no need to drag me into your love spat. Logan and I are just having a little fun, no strings attached. You know, keeping it *casual*,” he said, the word dripping with innuendo. “I thought you’d appreciate that, Fishboy. Isn’t that more your style?”

The Deep flinched, the words hitting too close to home. He had always been the one to keep things casual, to avoid getting too close, too attached. But with Logan, it had been different. He had let himself fall, let himself hope, and now he was paying the price.

“I didn’t ask for this,” The Deep whispered, his voice breaking. “I didn’t ask to care.”

Logan’s eyes softened, just for a moment, before he hardened them again, pushing down whatever emotion threatened to surface. “I’m sorry, but it’s too late. Wade and I... we’ve got a thing going. It’s easier this way.”

The Deep felt like the ground was crumbling beneath him. He had lost Logan once, and now, he was losing him all over again. And this time, it hurt even more.

“You don’t have to do this,” The Deep said, desperation creeping into his voice. “We can try again. We can—”

“No,” Logan cut him off, his tone final. “It’s done. What we had, it’s over.”

Deadpool slid off the couch, sauntering over to Logan’s side. He wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulders, grinning beneath his mask. “Don’t worry, Fishsticks. I’ll take good care of him. We’re just two guys having a good time, nothing serious. You can go back to your fishy ways, no hard feelings.”

The Deep’s stomach twisted with a mix of jealousy and despair. He could see the way Logan leaned into Deadpool’s touch, the way he relaxed in his presence, and it tore him apart. But what hurt the most was the realization that maybe, just maybe, Logan was happier this way. Happier without him.

“Fine,” The Deep said, his voice hollow. “If this is what you want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The Deep turned to leave, but before he stepped out the door, he paused, glancing back one last time. “I loved you, Logan. I still do. But I can’t keep chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught.”

Logan didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet The Deep’s eyes.

Deadpool gave a little wave. “See you around, Fishsticks. Don’t be a stranger. Or do. Whatever floats your boat.”

The Deep swallowed the lump in his throat, and without another word, he walked out of the room, out of the club, and into the night.

As he stepped into the cool evening air, the sounds of the city buzzing around him, he felt the weight of finality settle over him. The Logan he had known, the Logan he had loved, was gone. And maybe he had been right all along. Maybe the ocean didn’t love him. Maybe no one did.

He kept walking, the city lights blurring around him, as he tried to push down the ache in his chest. He had always been good at keeping things casual, at not letting himself get too attached. Maybe it was time to go back to that, to stop hoping for something more.

But as he walked away from that club, from Logan, from everything they had been, The Deep couldn’t help but feel like he was leaving a piece of himself behind. A piece that he might never get back.

And the worst part was, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

[popstarbarbiee]

Drowning In the Shallows

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Vought Tower loomed over the city like a monolith of power and corruption. Its glass walls reflected the sun’s light, casting long shadows across the streets below. Inside, everything was sleek and modern, polished to a mirror shine — the perfect facade for a company that made heroes look like gods while hiding the rot beneath the surface.

Logan had never cared for places like this, and the thought of walking into Vought Tower made his skin crawl. But this time, he had a reason to be here. A reason that had been gnawing at him for days, ever since that night when he saw The Deep again.

He had spent years running from the past, convincing himself that he didn’t need to look back. But seeing The Deep after all this time had shaken something loose inside him. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he couldn’t just let it end like that — not without at least trying to make things right.

So here he was, standing in the middle of the tower’s pristine lobby, feeling out of place in his worn leather jacket and battle-scarred body. The place smelled like bleach and money, and it was packed with people — executives, tourists, and hero-obsessed fans hoping to catch a glimpse of their favorite Supes. Logan felt like an alien among them, his skin crawling with the need to get out.

He approached the front desk, his gruff demeanor earning wary glances from the staff.

“I’m here to see The Deep,” Logan said, his voice low and gravelly.

The receptionist looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. She fumbled with her keyboard before finally stammering out, “Uh, The Deep is, um, in a meeting right now. He’s not taking visitors—”

Logan’s expression darkened. “Tell him Logan’s here. I’ll wait.”

The receptionist opened her mouth to protest but quickly decided against it, nodding and picking up the phone. After a moment of hushed conversation, she looked back at Logan, her face pale.

“Go on up,” she said quietly. “He’s in the executive suite.”

Logan grunted his thanks and made his way to the elevator, ignoring the curious stares that followed him. He didn’t care about the spectacle. All that mattered was getting to The Deep.

As the elevator doors slid open on the top floor, Logan stepped out into the hallway, his sharp senses already picking up the faint scent of the ocean that always clung to The Deep. He followed it until he reached a set of heavy double doors, the nameplate beside them reading, *"The Deep — Hero Liaison."*

Taking a deep breath, Logan pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The office was large, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city below. The Deep stood by the window, his back to Logan, staring out at the horizon as if he hadn’t noticed him enter. But Logan knew better. The tension in The Deep’s shoulders, the way his body had gone still — he knew The Deep had sensed him.

“Deep,” Logan said quietly, stepping closer.

The Deep turned around slowly, and Logan’s heart sank at the sight of him. He looked tired, worn down in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion. His face was paler, his eyes duller, as though something had drained the life out of him. But it wasn’t just that. There was something else — something dark lurking beneath the surface.

“What are you doing here, Logan?” The Deep asked, his voice flat.

Logan scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to start. He’d never been good with words, never been the kind of guy who knew how to express what he was feeling. But he was here now, and he couldn’t back out. Not after everything.

“I came to apologize,” Logan said gruffly. “For how things ended between us. For not… handling it right.”

The Deep raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been years, Logan. Why now?”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because seeing you again… it made me realize that I never really gave us a chance. I was too caught up in my own shit to see what was right in front of me. And I’m sorry for that.”

For a moment, The Deep just stared at him, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re too late, Logan.”

Logan frowned, stepping closer. “What do you mean?”

The Deep’s eyes flickered with something dark, something that made Logan’s gut twist with unease. “I’ve moved on,” he said quietly. “I’m with someone now.”

Logan’s heart sank. He had expected The Deep to move on, of course. It had been years since they’d last seen each other. But hearing it still hurt in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Who?” Logan asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

Before The Deep could answer, the door to the office swung open, and Logan’s blood ran cold.

Homelander.

The so-called hero strode into the room with an air of smug superiority, his white cape billowing behind him as if he were some kind of god descending from the heavens. His eyes narrowed when he saw Logan, a small, almost predatory smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, well, well,” Homelander drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. “If it isn’t the famous Wolverine. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but…” He smirked, glancing at The Deep with an almost possessive glint in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Logan’s fists clenched at his sides. His claws itched to break through his skin, but he held them back — barely. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight in the middle of Vought Tower. But the sight of Homelander standing so close to The Deep, so smug and self-assured, made Logan’s blood boil.

“I came to talk to The Deep,” Logan said through gritted teeth, his gaze fixed on Homelander.

Homelander’s smile widened. “Oh, did you now?” He stepped closer to The Deep, wrapping an arm around his waist in a show of dominance. “Well, whatever you came to say, it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s with me now.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to The Deep, searching for something — anything — that would tell him this wasn’t real, that The Deep wasn’t actually with *him*. But The Deep didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the floor, his body tense under Homelander’s touch.

“Is this what you want?” Logan asked, his voice low and rough. “Is this who you’ve chosen?”

The Deep finally looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of shame and resignation. “It’s… complicated,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Logan felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He could see it now — the truth written all over The Deep’s face. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t even happiness. This was something else entirely, something dark and twisted. It was the same look Logan had seen on the faces of people who had been broken down, controlled by fear.

“You don’t have to stay with him,” Logan said quietly, taking a step closer. “You deserve better than this.”

Homelander let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Oh, please. You think you’re some kind of knight in shining armor? Newsflash, buddy — he’s mine. And he’s not going anywhere.”

Logan’s claws slid out with a menacing *snikt*, his eyes burning with fury. “Get your hands off him,” he growled.

Homelander’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold menace. He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “I don’t think you understand how this works, Wolverine,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t get to tell *him* what to do.”

Logan was ready to lunge, ready to tear into Homelander, to rip him apart piece by piece. But then he felt a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Don’t,” The Deep whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, Logan. Just… don’t.”

Logan’s claws retracted with a soft *snikt*, his eyes filled with frustration and pain. He looked at The Deep, his heart breaking at the sight of him — so broken, so defeated.

“You deserve better,” Logan whispered.

The Deep looked away, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Maybe I do,” he said quietly. “But this is my life now.”

Logan stood there for a long moment, his chest aching with the weight of everything he couldn’t say, everything he couldn’t fix. He had come here hoping to make things right, but now, standing in front of The Deep, he realized that some things were too far gone.

With a heavy heart, Logan turned and walked out of the office, leaving The Deep behind. As he stepped into the elevator, he could feel Homelander’s eyes on him, could hear the faint sound of mocking laughter echoing in his ears.

But Logan didn’t look back.

He couldn’t.

Not anymore.

[popstarbarbiee]

Breaking Waves

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Weeks had passed since that night on the beach, and The Deep found himself constantly torn between two worlds. There were fleeting moments where he felt happiness — genuine, unfiltered joy — when he was with Logan. But those moments always seemed to slip away, like grains of sand through his fingers.

They had tried to carve out a life together, hiding away from the noise and demands of their respective worlds. The two of them rented a small cabin by the sea, where the ocean met the woods. It was a place untouched by society's cruelty. Logan would fish and hunt in the wilderness, while The Deep would dive into the water, reconnecting with the creatures below. They lived in this strange harmony, wild and free, away from the chaos. For a time, it worked.

But the past is never easily escaped.

---

It was a stormy night. The wind howled through the trees, rain pelting the windows with an unforgiving fury. Inside the cabin, The Deep sat by the fire, staring into the flames, his mind racing. Logan was outside, pacing restlessly in the rain, his claws itching to be used, his primal instincts rising to the surface. It had been days since their last argument — a fight over nothing and everything.

They had been growing distant. What had once been a sanctuary now felt like a cage, too small to contain their frustrations. The Deep could feel the tension in Logan's every move, the way his body coiled with energy he couldn’t release. He knew Logan was struggling, his animal instincts at war with the quiet life they had tried to build. And The Deep? He was struggling too. The ocean called to him constantly, beckoning him back to its depths, away from the complicated mess of human relationships.

Logan stormed back inside, shaking the rain from his hair. His eyes were wild, and The Deep felt a chill crawl up his spine. He’d seen that look before, right before Logan lost control.

"We can’t keep doing this, Logan," The Deep said, his voice low and tired. He didn’t even turn to face him, staring into the fire as though the flames held answers he couldn’t find elsewhere.

Logan growled in response, his boots thudding heavily against the floor as he stalked closer. "What the hell are you talkin' about? What’s this now?"

"You know what I mean." The Deep finally turned to look at him, his eyes dark and stormy like the ocean outside. "We’re falling apart. It’s not working."

Logan stopped, his fists clenching at his sides. His claws slid out, gleaming in the firelight, though he didn’t seem to notice. "You're not givin’ us a chance," Logan spat, his voice edged with anger. "Every time things get hard, you start swimmin’ away, like you’re scared to face the damn truth."

The Deep stood up, fists trembling with his own anger. "You think I’m not trying? Every day I fight to make this work, but you keep shutting me out!" His voice cracked. "You can't control it, Logan. You know you can't. What happens when you can't hold it back anymore? What happens when—"

"Don't," Logan cut him off, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Don't make this about me. I never asked you to fix me."

The Deep took a shaky breath, his anger mingling with guilt. "I'm not trying to fix you. I just... I just want something real, something that won’t break the moment we turn our backs."

Logan's eyes softened for a moment, but then his jaw clenched again. "You think this ain't real?" he snarled. "This — us — it's the realest damn thing I've had in years. And you’re just throwin' it away because it ain’t easy?"

The words hung heavy in the air between them, the storm outside raging on in perfect sync with their emotions. The Deep's chest heaved with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn't.

"I don’t want to throw it away," The Deep whispered, but his voice trembled with uncertainty. "But I can’t live like this. Not when it feels like you’re always one bad day away from losing control."

Logan’s claws retracted with a soft *snikt*, his face contorting with pain he was trying to hide. "You think I’d hurt you?" His voice was barely audible now, as if the question itself pained him. "After everything?"

The Deep's silence was answer enough.

Logan shook his head in disbelief, his breath coming out in short, furious bursts. "You know what? Maybe you’re right," he muttered bitterly, turning toward the door. "Maybe we’re both kidding ourselves."

"Logan—" The Deep stepped forward, reaching out, but Logan was already moving. The door slammed shut behind him, the wind and rain swallowing him whole.

The Deep stood frozen for a long moment, the silence inside the cabin more oppressive than any storm outside. He felt his chest tighten, the air escaping his lungs as reality began to sink in. He had never been good at relationships, always finding ways to sabotage them before they could really hurt him. But this time, it felt different. This time, it felt like losing Logan would break him.

He rushed to the door, throwing it open and stepping out into the storm. The rain hit his skin like shards of glass, the wind howling in his ears. "Logan!" he shouted into the darkness, his voice lost in the roar of the storm. "Logan, please!"

But there was no answer. Only the relentless pounding of the rain, the crash of the waves, and the distant rumble of thunder.

He stumbled toward the beach, his vision blurred by the storm. He could barely see through the downpour, but he knew where Logan had gone. It was always the same place, the cliffs by the water, where the ocean met the rocks with a violent fury. Logan would go there to brood, to try and tame the beast within.

The Deep reached the cliffs, his heart hammering in his chest. "Logan!" he screamed again, his voice cracking with desperation.

And then he saw him — standing on the edge, staring out at the ocean, his shoulders hunched, his fists clenched. For a moment, The Deep felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he could reach him. Maybe they could fix this.

But then Logan turned to face him, and The Deep saw something in his eyes that made his blood run cold. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even pain. It was resignation.

"I told you I ain't the guy you want," Logan said quietly, the wind carrying his words like a whisper. "I can't be fixed, and I can't change who I am."

The Deep’s heart shattered in his chest. "You don’t have to change," he pleaded, stepping closer, his voice thick with emotion. "I just... I just need to know you’re with me. That we can get through this together."

Logan’s lips curled into a sad, bitter smile. "You deserve more than I can give you, fish boy."

Before The Deep could say another word, Logan turned and leaped off the cliff, disappearing into the crashing waves below.

"Logan!" The Deep screamed, his voice raw with anguish. He rushed to the edge of the cliff, his heart pounding in his chest. But the waves swallowed the sound of his voice, as if the ocean itself had claimed Logan as one of its own.

The Deep stood there for what felt like hours, the rain pouring down around him, his body trembling with shock and despair. The storm raged on, but it was nothing compared to the storm that now raged inside of him.

He had always felt a connection to the ocean, to its beauty and its cruelty. But tonight, standing on the edge of that cliff, The Deep realized something he had never wanted to admit:

The ocean didn’t love him. It only consumed.

And now, it had taken Logan too.

---

The Deep collapsed onto the sand, letting the rain wash over him, his chest aching with the weight of his grief. He had lost the only person who had ever truly seen him, and now, he was left with nothing but the endless, empty waves.

The ocean roared around him, indifferent to his pain.

[popstarbarbiee]

Of Claws and Currents

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Wolverine x The Deep

(Crack ship that started from me and my friends playing roblox)

The moon hung heavy in the night sky, its light reflecting off the rippling waters of a secluded beach. The ocean stretched endlessly, its vastness whispering secrets only few could understand. One of those few was The Deep, former hero of the Seven, now standing alone at the edge of the water, toes sinking into the cool sand.

He had escaped the chaos of the world, its relentless demands on his sanity. Here, in the quiet, he felt some semblance of peace. His hands absently traced over his bare chest, where gills flared softly with each breath of salty sea air. But no matter how close he was to the ocean, he always felt this lingering ache, this emptiness that neither fame nor power could ever seem to fill.

He sighed deeply and stepped further into the water, letting the waves crash against his shins. As he waded deeper, the ocean welcomed him like an old friend, its familiar embrace offering comfort. He’d swim for hours if he could, let the waves carry him far away. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink beneath the surface.

A sudden noise broke the stillness. The Deep jerked his head up, the sound cutting through the peaceful symphony of the ocean. Footsteps — heavy and purposeful — approached the shoreline. The scent of cigars, leather, and something wild filled the air.

The Deep’s heart began to race. He knew who it was before he even saw him. There was only one man who carried that scent.

"Logan," The Deep breathed, standing waist-deep in the water, his eyes scanning the beach.

From the shadows emerged Wolverine, his rugged frame outlined by the moonlight. He wasn’t exactly dressed for the beach, in his leather jacket and jeans, but Logan was never one for practicality when it came to attire. His dark eyes glimmered, an intensity in them that The Deep found both intimidating and alluring.

Logan grunted. "Could smell you from a mile away," he said in that gravelly voice, flicking away the remnants of his cigar.

The Deep chuckled, more out of nerves than amusement. He hadn't expected to see Logan here, not after their last encounter. Their paths had crossed in New York, during some chaotic skirmish between supers and mutants. It had been a moment — fleeting, dangerous, but undeniable. Their eyes had locked in the middle of a battlefield, and something had sparked between them. Something neither could quite explain.

Wolverine stepped closer, his boots splashing in the shallows. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watched The Deep, as though he could see right through him. The silence was almost suffocating, but in a strange way, it felt comfortable too. The kind of silence that comes when words aren't needed.

"You look like hell," Logan finally said.

"Thanks," The Deep replied with a smirk. "You always know how to flatter a guy."

Logan's lips twitched upward in what could have been a smile, but it was hard to tell. "What're you doin' here, fish boy?"

"Same as you, I imagine," The Deep said quietly, looking back out at the water. "Trying to escape. Trying to find something that makes sense."

Logan grunted again and moved closer. Now, he stood just a few feet away, close enough for The Deep to catch the warmth of his body through the cool night air. "And here I thought you liked the spotlight."

"Not anymore." The Deep's voice softened. He stared down at the dark water swirling around his legs. "The spotlight doesn't mean anything if you're empty inside. If no one really sees you."

There was a pause. Logan shifted, and then, almost hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on The Deep's shoulder. The touch was firm, reassuring, and the simple gesture sent a warmth rushing through The Deep that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I see you," Logan said, his voice low, almost a growl.

The words hit The Deep like a wave, crashing over him, overwhelming him. He looked up into Logan’s eyes, those deep, piercing eyes that always seemed to carry the weight of the world. But tonight, there was something softer there. Something vulnerable.

"I know you do," The Deep whispered, stepping closer, their bodies nearly touching now. "That's what scares me."

Logan let out a small, breathy chuckle, his hand sliding down The Deep's arm, their fingers brushing. "You ain’t the only one who's scared, bub."

There was a moment of hesitation, a quiet understanding passing between them. For all their bravado, their violent pasts, and the power they both held, here, under the moonlight, they were just two lost souls searching for something — for someone — to hold onto.

Without thinking, The Deep closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against Logan’s in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. Logan responded immediately, wrapping his arms around The Deep's waist, pulling him closer. The kiss tasted like saltwater and whiskey, a mix of the ocean and the wilderness, of two worlds colliding.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads rested against each other. The Deep could feel Logan's heart pounding in his chest, could feel the heat radiating off his body. It grounded him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

"I don’t know what this is," The Deep said softly, his voice barely audible over the waves.

"Doesn’t matter what it is," Logan replied, his hand sliding up to cup The Deep's jaw. "All that matters is that it’s real."

The Deep nodded, closing his eyes and letting the weight of those words sink in. For the first time in a long time, he felt seen. He felt connected. And though neither of them had any idea where this would lead, they both knew one thing for certain:

In each other, they had found something worth holding onto.