Certified Simp

Reassurances

1.7k+ words | fluff | Luca's fellow S.W.A.T. members tease him for dating someone who is younger and out of his league. Though he knows they mean well, sometimes he needs your reassurances.

All You Want and More

3.1k+ words | fluff | When Luca finds out that you have never celebrated your birthday, he sets out to make your day perfect.

You Invite It

3.7k+ words | angst to fluff | Despite your sunny and smiley personality, Luca and another man get angry with you during a night out with 20-David. When Luca comes to apologize, you shy away from him, and he has to tell you how he feels before you will accept his help.

Let Me Help

2.6k+ words | angst to fluff | When Los Angeles is hit with a freak cold front and your apartment loses heat, you don't ask for help. Luca sees how sick you are and pays you a visit which ends with him taking you back to his house to heal.

Driver's Seat

1.2k+ words | fluff | At a classic car show, you meet the only gentleman in attendance and bond over a mutual love for cars.

Do You Want to Keep a Secret?

2.5k+ words | fluff | After Luca asks Street to stay out of the house for a while, Street gets tired and curious and accidentally crashes Luca's "book club."

Do You Want to Keep Another Secret? 1.6k+ words | fluff | After the team finds out about Luca's secret girlfriend, he invites them over to share another secret involving a ring and an important question.

Found Family

1.9k+ words | angst to fluff | When you finally meet Luca's team, you aren't expecting to run into a man you haven't seen or heard from in years.

Hiding Hugs

2.5k+ words | fluff | shy!SWAT!reader | 5 times you find refuge in Luca's arms, and the 1(st) time you show him why.

Surf Crazy

1.2k+ words | fluff | Luca takes you to your first professional surfing competition, and then invites you on another first.

Us or Them

3.8k+ words | angst to fluff | You and Luca go undercover as a couple, and when you're forced to get close, the truth slips out.

Fit Into the Family

1.3k+ words | fluff | After hearing all about you, Luca's team gets to meet you and learns that you're perfect for Luca.

Save Your Life

1.5k+ words | angst to fluff | The most terrifying part of Luca's life is also the best: being a single father. His daughter is in danger, and he relies on his team to save her.

Whole Again

2.2k+ words | angst to fluff | SWAT!reader | You're injured during a raid, but your boyfriend Luca doesn't know how bad it is. After you're separated and instructed not to speak, your team finds a way to let you comfort one another.

Surety of Ghos-ti

2.8k+ words | angst to fluff | pregnant!reader | You are held hostage, and Luca and his team have to save you and your baby.

Even If We Stay Here

1.5k+ words | angst to fluff | 50squad!reader | Luca isn't himself, and when you find out why, you remind him that you're always there, even if it's just as a friend.

Smart Enough

2.3k+ words | fluff/comfort | Street's cousin/LAPD analyst!reader | While staying with your cousin Street, you assist the LAPD in catching a serial killer, but discover you fit the victim profile. SWAT agrees to protect you, but Street finds out that you and Luca are closer than you seemed.

I Should Have Denied It

1.7k+ words | angst to fluff | 50-squadSWAT!reader | You've been arguing with your boyfriend Luca, and when you hear he's up for a promotion, your anger and fear of losing him cloud your judgement and lead you into danger.

All That Matters

2.0k+ words | fluff, brief angst | younger!reader | You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Opportune Growth

1.9k+ words | fluff | baker!reader | While Luca looks for opportunities to expand his food truck business, he doesn't expect growth in his personal life or to meet you, a woman capable of making everything better.

In a Few Years

The rage feels like fire in your veins as you stalk through the dark fog, Knives along your chest feeling just a bit too heavy. The dark voice inside you purred and praised you for your good work. You felt too big, as if the space inside you wasn’t enough to contain the fire that threatened to spill out and burn everything in its path. Mindlessly you had found yourself in front of Midwich, the elementary school decrepit and falling apart even if it was in better shape out of trials. You rolled your shoulders, the realization whispering exactly what you needed, Him. 

Mind singularly focused, you stormed in growling lowly clothes still soaked in blood from the trials. You could tell He had visitors. You’ll just chase them off, tell them to find somewhere else to loiter. Someone else to waste their time with.

Pyramid head sitting down, sharpening his blade, on a chair comically small compared to his mass frame. Head tilting upwards instantly knowing why you were here. The room feels colder, his visitors bolting from the room, the legion members jumping windows and fleeing. You did wonder why they were here, but the thought vanished the moment the large man stood up jamming his blade into the floorboards before approaching you with heavy boots thumping with each step. 

Your eyes are wild as you look up feeling ready to explode. The Executioner was unphased by your posture, everything at this moment was routine. When you first arrived no one would go near you. The blood lust built up after each trial with no downtime, no way to get it out, and no real release like you had in your world, the rage lashing and attacking anything that spoke or so much as moved in your direction.

The only one who made any headway in calming you was Him. He pushed you harshly against the wall, a massive hand drifting up your throat, and pressing harshly, you gasped for air, but you didn’t fight. You never did, but the lack of oxygen brought a warm fuzzy feeling in your head that had your eyes fluttering, “Tell me what you need.” he growled, voice echoing in the steel frame.

“I’m too big,” you grunt, “make me small.” the words would almost be a plea if your face wasn’t twister anger, and rage. You can hear a huff echoing against the steel, the clock tower chimes air raid horn going off, the pound of the bell loud and clear shaking the school, echoing in your chest. ”Beg,” his voice low and breathy. Your skin prickles as a shiver overtakes you.

You close your eyes focusing on your breathing, on your heart, on the way the cold air of the destroyed classroom felt. “Please…” you speak softly, your body relaxing, he presses into you harder. It’s like he wants to crush you. “Please what?” He demands squeezing your throat tighter. “Please, use me. Fuck me. Crush me, choke me. Just please remind me of my place.” You look up desperate, eyes half-closed as you struggle to breathe. “Where is your place?” he asks, loosening his grip just ever so slightly.

“Under you,” you manage to breathe out. Your core clenches hearing him laugh, grabbing you by the throat and slamming you onto the teacher's desk. You watch as he removes his frame a black dripping shapeless void where his head should be, glowing white eyes, a long tongue flicking around wildly trapped in his mouth with teeth too sharp to be human. The large man grabs your thighs pulling them apart just so he can grind into you feeling the heat of your sex it has him throwing his head back groaning. 

“This what you want?” He growls leaning forward, elbows resting on the creaking wood, caging you to the desk. You nod your head silently, craning your neck to look at where his eyes should be. “This all you good for.” he hisses as if this very request offended him. His hips grind harder, one hand supporting your back while he rough grips the back of your skull. “Just a nasty whore.” Your eyes close softly, gasping for breath you focus on the way his clothed cock rubs against you. The way it nudges against your sex. Grinding through the very fabric that separated the two of you.

“Sinful,” Pyramid head gunts slamming your hips together. His tongue coaxed your mouth open pushing in, wet appendage filling your throat, you gag and buck. Eyes watering as you try to swallow all of him. Desperate to please him. Desperate to make today the day he finally fills you with that heavy cock.

The Executioner purs feeling you choke on his tongue, exploring deep inside you stopping before he tastes the acid of your stomach. He enjoys the way you struggle to breathe with him inside you. The tasty feeling of you fighting yourself not to try and get him off of you. He enjoyed the conflict that rooted itself inside you. He enjoyed the way that bloodthirsty monster inside you fades the more he forces you down. Forces you to take him and everything he gives you. The giant man twists and curls his tongue inside you, the appendage curling up and bulging in your throat. His gaze was intense as he glowered down at you. Watching you try to claw at him, try to breathe, everything about you desperate.

He pulls out of you softly. Chuckling at you, watching you gasp for breath tears staining the corners of your eyes. Beautiful, he thinks flipping you onto your stomach and yanking your pants down just enough to expose that pretty ass for him. His fingers dipped down to trace your hole pressing in slightly as he just shook his head. He can feel that you’re trying, that you want this, but not yet. 

You whine feeling him press a thick finger into you curling and twisting hitting your sweet spot having you arch your back mewling loudly, desperately clawing at the desk struggling to find purchase anywhere. “Quiet,” he growls, pressing your head into the desk. Large hand pressing almost painfully down, You can hear him shifting fabric before a heavy cock finds its way to the curve of your ass gliding between your cheeks. Slow and gentle, your mind focuses solely on the feeling as you try to lift it.

“Please,” you whine, face tight as you fight your body trying to not come off as pathetic as you feel. “Please,” you repeat. He leans forward pressing you down with a large hand still pinning your face harshly against the desk. “No,” you moan, feeling the way his voice rumbles against his back. 

“Not this time.” His fingers leave your hole, making you whine in discomfort from not being filled anymore. you have to bite your lip to stop the desperate sobs that threaten to escape. The beast shifted once more, pressing himself between your thighs. “Be good and squeeze for me.” he hisses thrusting slowly pre cum lubing between your thighs as he moves slowly groaning darkly as his hips move. His long tongue falls out feeling you press your thighs together tightly. Sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. You need this, you need him. You could feel your empty hole twitching desperate for more than the finger that has long left it.

Pyramid head just chuckles, his hips moving at a steady pace, the cock was easily the size of your forearm, you didn’t care if it wouldn’t fit, you still wanted it, still wanted to feel it burn as it stretched you. Still wanted to have it split you open like the needy whore you were. You just had to settle with feeling as it rubbed against your sex. Your juices leaked onto it as he continued to thigh fuck you. “Please,” you were starting to feel like a broken record. He picks your head up slamming into the desk, pain blooming from your head. “No!” he growls, moving faster, cock twitching between your thighs. 

“You listen the first time I tell you.” His words were dark, the world spinning. That actually fuckin hurt. You gasp for breath feeling him falter. He must be close, the thought all but confirmed as you are yanked off the desk and forced to the floor the cock inches from your face. A thick hand frantically stroking the cock while the other held you in place. You look up, tongue falling out as you anticipate what he wants you to do cum splashing on your face as he covers you with his spend.

Your hand passed across his cheek, crisp, hard, and loud, ringing out as he recoiled from the force of the slap. You stormed out in a huff, abandoning the friends you had come with and exited into the rainy night, pulling your coat around your frame.

In hindsight, probably not the smartest idea. Your apartment was at least six blocks away and the rain was coming down in sheets, soaking your jacket and the clothes underneath.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and texted Vladimir, "Just left the bar, walking home. Some asshole wouldn't take a hint."

"Hey!" a voice called from behind you, nearly swallowed by the pouring rain.

You spun on your heel, finding yourself face to face with the man from the bar. Panic took root in your chest like an icy hand wrapping its fingers around your heart.

"What do you want?" you braced yourself, fists balled in your pockets, prepared for the worst.

"The fuck is your problem?" he spat; his face was twisted in an ugly snarl, "Embarrassing me like that in front of the whole bar?"

You didn't have an answer- nothing you could have said would diffuse the situation. You contemplated running, sprinting into the night and hoping you were faster than him.

"You got a hearing problem, bitch?" the man barked, beginning to close the gap between the two of you.

You took an instinctive step back, acutely aware of how alone the two of you were in the street, "Listen, I'm sorry I slapped you-"

"Not sorry enough," He closed the gap quickly and you turned to run, your heart racing, banging in your rib cage like a snare drum.

You ran face first into something, bouncing back a few inches before two arms embraced you, stopping you from falling backward. You yelped in surprise, eyes snapping upward to meet the face of the person who had caught you-

Makarov.

"V-" you choked out the nickname you'd given him, your heart still hammering, "He- he was going to-"

You didn't need to finish the sentence. Makarov was on the man in an instant, his fists hurtling through the air, blood and rain blurred together as he beat him. You turned away, averting your eyes from the scene as Makarov pinned him to the ground and battered him, his hands growing more bloodied with every blow.

When he was satisfied, he rose to his feet, adding a final kick to the man's ribs before coming to you, his voice hushed, arms wrapping around you in a familiar embrace.

"It's alright, Солнышко," he murmured, "Let's get you home."

The journey was a blur of rain, cold, and darkness, as Makarov guided you to the car and into the passenger seat. The streetlights flicked past in orange blurs as the two of you drove on without a word.

He kept a protective hand clasped on your thigh the entire trip.

--

"I should have killed him," Makarov ran his hand through your hair as you rested on his thigh, "Should have gutted him like a fish."

You stared up at him from you place at his thighs, head rested comfortably on the muscled surface, "Why did you...why did you find me?"

Makarov scoffed and glanced down at you, "You told me you were walking home. Alone." He seemed annoyed at the idea.

"Sorry," you looked away and he dipped his mouth to your forehead for a kiss.

"You did nothing wrong," he muttered, lips still brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You felt like crying, all of the emotions of the night bubbling to the surface as you laid in his lap, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

"I was so scared, V," You whispered, still choking back tears, "I thought-"

Makarov interrupted you with a hand to your chin, turning your gaze to his; his eyes were intense, burning with an emotion you couldn't place.

"Nothing is ever going to happen to you," his eyes were dark, fixated on yours as he spoke, "No one will ever hurt you. Ever."

"Ever?" you goaded him a little now, enjoying the way he looked at you with such possessiveness.

"Ever," he echoed with a sly smile, "And if anyone lays a finger on you, I'll fucking kill them."

Albert Wesker / The Mastermind:

Wesker always has…A way about him, we'll say. He’s been known to enjoy playing with the survivors, getting a little intimate occasionally to mess with them. with them. You’re no different — when he manages to catch you in one of his dashes and gets you against the wall, he gets a little too close to you. Studying your eyes, holding his breath. Waiting for you to make the next move. You’re holding your breath, too.

It is a different kind of moment with you, though. It’s not just a game, it’s a subtle allowance of his affection in a way that doesn’t show his favoritism. But you know — you’re his favorite. And getting cornered and thrown into a wall is just his way of showing you that when you’re in a trial.

He isn’t cruel, he gives you a chance to run away before he goes after you again. He’s a gentleman, it’d just be rude to catch you off-guard and throw you onto a hook. He’s better than that. Besides, when he lets you run he gets another chance to snag you and see your reaction.

But you know he really has no ulterior motives doing this. He just likes seeing the way you react to what he does; he is still a scientist after all, and he finds it quite amusing. He really is quite playful when you get down to it, and him pulling stunts like this isn’t out of the ordinary.

Amanda Young / The Pig:

Amanda’s trappings have always been weirdly intimate, to be honest. It is something intimate to her, in a way. There’s just something intense about punishing the ungrateful, even though it’s not that with you — she doesn’t know what it is, it’s the same, but different.

She gets very in the zone during trials, hunting down the ungrateful survivors. But it’s like a switch flips in her brain when she finds you, seeming to relax a little…It can be jarring sometimes to see her go from bloodthirsty to kind so quickly, but you know it means she loves you.

She’s always gentle when she fastens the Reverse Bear Trap on your head, tucking your hair out of the way and petting you when she’s finished. There’s always something loving about the way she puts the trap on you, something gentle. Something about her lingering touches…It’s a loving gesture. She wants you to be better.

She never feels like she can breathe properly until she gets you on the hook. She’ll quickly leave you, not wanting it to be obvious that she gets so flustered around you. Helping the helpless is a beautiful thing, but she’s a Jigsaw, for crying out loud, nobody needs to know how she feels. Except you, of course…

Evan MacMillan / The Trapper:

Evan is aggressive, overtly so many would say, so it's a shock seeing him essentially stop in his tracks when he sees you caught in one of his traps. He's usually quick to pull mangled survivors out of his traps…But with you, he's more…Slow. 

He circles you to make sure nobody's around. He pets your hair as he crouches down to open the jaws. He's quiet and keeps eye contact. It's so unlike him. That is, until he huffs and hauls you out of the dirt, over to a hook. He stays for a moment, still looking up at you, his hands lingering.

You're like a wounded animal to him in these moments. He knows he has to be kind to you…Gentle to you, even. He does his job, he does it well, but he loves you, and he hopes he shows you that.

If someone else tries to save you from a trap, though, he's quicker to get rid of them. You're his, this is his moment with you and he won't have anyone ruining it. He likes to be alone with you.

Kazan Yamaoka / The Oni:

Like Evan, Kazan is known for his aggression during trials; it's almost eerie how calm he gets when he follows you around to absorb your blood orbs. You're essentially free game to him and he won't pass it up.

When he has enough to fuel his rage, he's always right behind you. Waiting. He gives you a moment to start running, but he always catches up with you and knocks you down with his trusty Kanabo. He pauses above you, catching your gaze as he breathes heavily. He presses his forehead to yours — a strange moment this is, but yours nonetheless.

He wants to stay with you, but his duty calls. He leaves to chase down the other survivors. But he comes back for you as soon as he can, a hand pressing against your head before he picks you up and hauls you to a hook.

A match against Trapper was much the same.

Alucard didn't even notice the trap, that or he did didn't care, he just walked right into it and his scream was heard across the map, his second scream as he placed on hook sounded like he was right next to you he was so loud.

When you got him off hook and to a safer place, he collapsed on you, his forehead on your shoulder, which was growing wet, either from his sweat or tears you arent sure, but he held onto you as you patched him up, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Why...why does it hurt so much? I...I shouldn't have gotten hurt from such a weak trap."

He sounds so tired, his voice is weak, small even.

"The entity's abilities it seems, in this realm you're nothing but a human."

"This is what you feel?" He moves, his watery glowing eyes looking up at your focused expression.

"Every match."

He's horrifed, all these matches where you've gritted your teeth and bared through, all these matches where you sacrificed yourself just to make sure everyone else lived, hell even the missions he knew you took as a Belmont- speaking of!

Your family goes on such dangerous missions, gets injured or even killed, and yet you still bare your family crest? His respect for you and your family grew, knowing first hand the pain of your injuries and yet you still choose to be so selfless.

Cue Alucard falling for you, the poor thing didn't even mean to.

It's just you pulled him off the hook, the bell rings louder, warning there isn't much time left, yet you still came back for him.

The second he was touching the ground, he looked at you, despite the pain he looked at you confused.

Your face was stern, filled with sheer determination as you grab his hand and lead him to the door.

"Why did you come back? You could have escaped instead of dying here with me."

You patched him at at the gate, just to be safe.

"Either neither of us die or we both die."

Your eyes locked

"I'm not leaving you here. Come on."

His own eyes widen.

Oh.

Oh.

........so this is how those dames in novels feel being saved.

Oh, Trevor is going to have his head.

He grows more skilled and knowledgeable the longer he's here, and is determined to help you (by proxy the others) he's noticeably closer to you, practically shoulder to shoudler with you by the fire, the first to help you off hook or to heal you.

Even his familar, which followed him here likes to hang off you and get scritches.

He can feel Trevor's side eye, knowing the older Belmont isn't fond of him cozying up to hos descendent.

It wasn’t your choice to be pushed into the Void after Wade and Logan. When you watched their bodies disappear, you too were taken to the Void without putting much of a fight. And from the moment you arrived, you knew you were over your head. 

From the moment you arrived, Wade and Logan’s bickering and banter was constant, and their fights weren’t often but deadly. You stood on the sidelines whenever they fought because you knew they could easily take you out. 

Especially now.  

What was supposed to be a ride to find the Resistance members became a bloodbath, the first sign of a fight starting was your cue to leave the car and wait for them to calm down. 

You sat against the tree, watching the two grown ass men throw kicks and punches that could kill a person with ease. Logan's claws pierce Wade’s body and how Wade’s katanas and knife slice through Logan’s outfit and skin.  

“Guys, seriously?” You muttered, this fight would’ve been much entertaining if she had food with her. You were tired of it, physically and emotionally, and you weren’t surprised when you fell asleep to the sound of them battling.  

But when you awoke, you were in a different place. Some kind of hideout.  

But with three others who you learned to be Blade, Elektra and Gambit. All of them talked about getting back into Cassandra’s lair, but Wade did most of the talking as Logan did all the drinking.  

“You?!” Wade suddenly shouting in some kind of encouragement, pointing directly at you.  

They all stared at you, waiting for a response but you had no idea what they were agreeing on, going back in her lair or getting a way out.  

“It’s the same thing, kid.” Logan interrupted your thinking, as if he read your thoughts. But it seems he was tired of the fighting and wanted to a seat to drink in peace.  

“Sure, I guess.” You said, mainly to get the stares off you. 

Everyone agreed that they would set off early in the morning, giving you the chance to look around the hideout. You peeked your heads in the room as you already felt like you were trespassing, so you promised yourself that this would be the last room before you ate something. 

“Bonjour, cher.” Gambit’s voice made you jump, quickly pulling your head out to turn and look at him. “Ain’t polite to be peekin’ in on folks, now is it?” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

Gambit reached out to push the door open further. “Ain’t no harm done.” With a wave of his hand, he welcomed you in. “Don’t be shy, cher.” 

You walked in once you got his approval, he followed right behind you, closing the door with a click. The room was not what you expected, with mismatched furniture and some playing cards lying around, it spoke of him.  

It was Gambit’s space, and it felt like an extension of him. 

“So, how long you been stuck in dis here Void?” Gambit asked, sitting on his couch and patting the cushion beside him.  

But you shook your head, choosing to lean against the wall. “Not long. I got caught up in Wade’s mess.” 

Gambit raised an eyebrow, his expression changing to surprised. “You’ new to all dis chaos, eh? Coulda fooled me.” He grinned.  

You shrugged, trying to laugh. “More like I got dragged into it. Wade... He stopped getting in trouble for some time but this time, I wasn’t quick enough to dodge it.” 

“If dere’s somethin’ on your mind, cher, you can talk. Sometimes it’s easier t’spill your guts to a stranger.” Gambit noted. 

You looked at him, seeing sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, you hesitated, but you broke. “I’m worried. Scared.” You admitted, whispering. “That this plan won’t work. If it doesn’t, everyone in my universe... They’ll forget me. It’ll be like I never existed.” 

You didn’t mean to say much, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. “I’ve been abandoned once before, left to fend for myself. I worked so hard to make a name but now it’ll be for nothing. Everything I’ve done, everyone I’ve known... Gone. Just like that.” 

You felt embarrassed after you finished ranting. Your eyes widened as you raised your hands, stumbling over your words, a poor attempt at explaining yourself. “Shit! I-I know you said-” 

But before you could finish, Gambit was there in front of you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you like a shield, protecting you from your worries.  

“It’s alrig’t cher. You’re alrig’t.” He whispered, his voice soothing as he held you close. “You ain’t gotta apologize for feelin’ like dis. Everyone gets scared, even Remy.”  

You felt yourself slowly relax in his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed you a little. In that moment, you didn’t care about the fear that’s been eating you away.  

You hesitated at first, but then you wrapped your arms around him. You both stayed like that for a while, neither of you saying a word, just taking comfort in each other’s company. 

Eventually, Gambit pulled back slightly, just enough so he could look down at you. You met his faze, your breath hitching as you realized how close you were. 

And then, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. It was slow soft at first, a mere brush of lips, but it deepened as the seconds passed, both of you losing yourselves in the moment.  

You felt his fingers running through your hair as you reached to cup his face. You shut your eyes, your hands moving to his coat and attempt to take it off him.  

The door flew open with a loud slam. You jumped, darting away from Gambit. 

“Hey, what’s going on in here?!” Wade shouted as he strutted into Gambit’s room. His tone was annoyingly cheerful. “We don’t have the budget for intimacy coordinators! Johnny must’ve taken it all.” 

You cleared your throat, crossing your arms as you felt your face become warm. “Wade! I... Uh... Nothing, nothing’s going on.” 

You could tell by how the whites of his suit widened that he was smirking under that dammed mask. “Oh really? ‘Cause it looks like I interrupted something juicy!” 

“Jus’ havin’ a lil’ chat, mon ami. Nothin’ to get excited ‘bout.” Gambit fixed his coat, seemingly normal. 

Wade then shrugged, turning around. “Alright, but if I hear any smoochin’ sounds, I’m comin’ right back!” 

As soon as the door closed behind Wade, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your heat still racing from the near discovery. You glanced at Gambit, who was watching you with a smile, and couldn’t help but laugh. 

Gambit stepped closer to you, hooking his finger under your chin to have you look at him. “As we were, cher?”  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

It was the sound of groaning that woke you up from your light sleep. It took you a moment to blink away the darkness, your mind still foggy as you reached over to check the time. The glare of your phone screen read 1:48 a.m. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, echoing the exhaustion that weighed on your body. Only a few hours had passed since you’d finally managed to drift off, after wrestling with the stomach-knotting guilt that had kept you tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity. You tried to remind yourself that the past couldn’t be fixed; nothing you did now could change what happened. But the thoughts persisted, refusing to let go.

Another groan, louder this time, broke through your muddled thoughts. It was coming from the room across the hall. Remy's room. You sat up slowly, pushing back the blankets that had wrapped themselves around you during your restless sleep. As you unplugged your phone from its charger, you turned on the flashlight, the beam guiding you across the wooden floor and toward the source of the noise.

The closer you got to Remy's door, the more distinct the sounds became—rustling bedding, the low, pained groans that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand hesitated on the door, a knot of worry tightening in your chest. You knew what those sounds meant; you'd heard them before. Knocking softly but not waiting for a response, you pushed open the door, bracing yourself for what you might find.

Remy lay tangled in his sheets, his body tense and twitching as if he were fighting some invisible force. His eyes were tightly shut, his expression twisted in pain. But it was his hands that caught your attention—glowing a deep, ominous purple as they clenched the bedding with a vice-like grip. You swallowed hard, your mind racing with what to do next. On one hand, you wanted to wake him, to pull him out of whatever nightmare had him in its grip. He was obviously experiencing something traumatic, and you couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

But on the other hand, you remembered the last time you’d tried to wake him like this. The memory of being flung across the room by a burst of his kinetic energy was still fresh, the bruises having only recently faded. You cursed under your breath, glancing around the room for something that could wake him without putting yourself in harm's way.

But as Remy's breathing grew more labored, the groans turning into soft whimpers, you knew you couldn’t waste any more time. “Fuck it,” you muttered, making up your mind. Moving quickly, you circled to the other side of the bed, close enough to reach out but with enough space to dodge if needed.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed his arm tightly, feeling the heat of the energy pulsing beneath his skin. “Remy!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. You held his arm down with a strength that surprised even you, your grip firm as you called his name again. “Remy, wake up!”

His eyes shot open, wide and unfocused at first as he gasped for air. He blinked rapidly, his breathing slowly evening out as the glow in his hands faded. Finally, his gaze found yours, confusion and lingering fear swimming in his red-on-black eyes. “What are you doing in here?” he asked, his voice hoarse and laced with embarrassment.

You stepped back, giving him some space as you tried to lighten the mood. “Ah, well, I thought it would be a good surprise to wake you up at 2am with my dazzling face,” you replied sarcastically, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a small, teasing smile. “You were having bad dreams again.”

Remy swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to the crumpled sheets beneath him. “I didn’t hurt you again, did I?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with guilt.

You shook your head, your smile softening. “Surprisingly, no,” you said gently, relieved that you’d managed to wake him without any incidents this time, "We're doing better".

Ever since that night—since that fight when he’d accidentally sent you crashing into the wall—something had shifted between you and Remy. The event had left a scar on both of you, not just physically but emotionally as well. But in the aftermath, a new understanding had begun to form. Remy, who had been so guarded, so unwilling to let anyone in, had started to open up to you more. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t easy, but slowly, he began to let you see the cracks in his armour.

The nightmares were a part of that, a window into the darkness he carried with him. And each time you sat with him after he woke, each time you reassured him that you were okay, that he was okay, a little more of that wall between you crumbled away.

Now, as you stood in the dim light of his room, watching him as he tried to steady himself, you could feel that connection deepening. It wasn’t just about the nightmares, or the guilt that he couldn’t shake—it was about the trust that was growing between you, the way he was starting to rely on you, just as you were starting to rely on him. You watched as Remy shifted, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard, his shoulders slumping slightly as the tension slowly drained from his body. The room was still dim, the soft glow of your phone’s flashlight casting long shadows across the floor. You hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed beside him, careful to give him space but close enough to let him know you were there.

The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. You knew this wasn’t the first time he’d been haunted by nightmares, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But each time it happened, it seemed to weigh a little heavier on both of you. You took a deep breath, deciding to break the silence.

“What were you dreaming about?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure if he would answer, or if he’d brush you off like he often did when things got too personal. But you had to try.

Remy stared straight ahead; his eyes unfocused as if he were still trapped somewhere in the depths of his dream. For a moment, you thought he might not respond at all. But then he sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair before finally looking at you.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ you need to worry about,” he said, his voice low and guarded. He was trying to protect you from whatever darkness he was wrestling with, that much was clear. But you could see the struggle in his eyes, the conflict between wanting to confide in you and wanting to keep you at arm’s length.

You nodded, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before speaking again. “I just want to help, Remy.”

Remy looked at you then, really looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time. There was a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a shadow of his usual guarded expression.

He studied you for a long moment before asking quietly, “Why don’t you ever tell me what keeps you up at night?”

The question caught you off guard, hitting a little too close to home. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat, a familiar tightness spreading through your chest. “What? You think I don’ hear you moving around in your room at night?” He asked simply.

“It’s…” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s complicated,” you finally said, your voice thick with emotion you couldn’t quite hide. You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as you spoke, avoiding his gaze.

Remy nodded, his expression softening with understanding. He didn’t push you for more, didn’t pry into the past you clearly didn’t want to revisit. Instead, he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder for just a moment—a brief, silent gesture of solidarity. Then, he stood up, his movements slow and deliberate as he made his way to the door.

“I’m gonna get somethin’ to drink,” he murmured, more to himself than to you, before disappearing down the hallway.

You sat there for a few moments longer, listening to the faint creak of the floorboards as Remy walked away. A sigh escaped your lips, knowing you weren’t going to get anything more out of him tonight unless you were willing to open up too. The realization weighed heavily on you, the truth of it settling in your bones.

Finally, you pushed yourself up from the bed, the cold air biting at your skin as you padded down the hallway toward the kitchen. You found Remy standing by the counter, his back to you as he poured himself a glass of water. The dim light of the moon filtered in through the window, casting a soft glow over the room.

He didn’t turn around when you entered, but you knew he was aware of your presence. You leaned against the door frame, watching him for a moment before speaking. "I can never drink water at night, otherwise I'm up all night peeing” you stated, your tone lighter, trying to ease the tension that had settled between you both.

Remy glanced over his shoulder, giving you a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Seems like neither of us gets much sleep these days,” he replied, taking a sip of his water before setting the glass down on the counter.

You stepped closer, the cool tiles of the kitchen floor sending a shiver up your spine. You tapped your fingers on your legs for a moment, “Maybe we’re just too stubborn to let go of the past,” you said, trying to keep the mood light, but there was a truth in your words that neither of you could ignore.

Remy leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you. “Maybe,” he agreed softly, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read the thoughts you weren’t saying out loud.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of everything unspoken between you. There was so much you both were holding back, so much that had been left unsaid. But in that moment, standing in the quiet of the kitchen with the world asleep around you, you knew that maybe it was time to start letting some of it out. You nodded toward the living room, silently inviting Remy to follow you. He trailed behind you without a word, the tension between you both palpable but unspoken. As you entered the living room, you curled up on the sofa, wrapping your blanket tightly around you. Remy chose the armchair across from you, sinking into it with a heaviness that matched the mood.

After a long pause, you broke the silence. “What I’m about to tell you stays between us. I trust you, Remy, and that’s why I’m going to talk about it. No one knows, definitely not Wade. The only people who know are the people who were there.”

Remy’s eyes met yours, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. He nodded slightly, signalling that he understood the gravity of your words. You took a deep breath, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you prepared to share a part of your past you had kept buried for so long.

“Back in 2018…” Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. “I don’t know if you were already in the Void by then,” You paused, trying to steady yourself. “Something happened. His name was Thanos. He wanted to wipe out half the universe, said there weren’t enough resources to sustain all life. But to do that, he needed to collect these stones… the Infinity Stones.”

Remy’s expression remained impassive, but you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, his body tense with anticipation.

“We lost a lot of good people in that fight. Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff… they were just a few.” Your voice broke, tears welling in your eyes as the memories flooded back. “Thanos succeeded; he got the stones and wiped out half the planet. So many people were just… gone. Families destroyed; economies collapsed. And we had no idea how to fix it. I jumped through universes and timelines, trying to find something, anything that would change the outcome. But every universe was the same. Thanos always won. We didn't know what to do, we were just sitting ducks. We were meant to stop this, to save the world but instead-” You shrugged a shoulder and looked a way for a moment.

Tears streamed down your face now, the weight of the past five years pressing down on you. “Five years later, we managed to fix things… but I lost someone as a result.”

You turned away from Remy’s sympathetic gaze, unable to meet his eyes. The room seemed to close in around you, the memories suffocating. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the tears from coming out.

“Who'd you lose?” he asked quietly, his voice gentle, as if afraid to push too hard.

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “I was meant to be getting married, but when the blip happened cars were without drivers, planes were without pilots,” you admitted, your voice cracking under the weight of the admission. “They were on their way back from a conference in Michigan when the blip happened. They called me the night before; they somehow knew what I was going to do because they always did. They told me to stay safe, that they loved me.”

Remy stayed quiet, his eyes full of understanding. He wanted to come over and comfort you, but he held back, knowing you needed to get this out on your own.

“I was meant to be retired. We were planning on maybe starting a family after the wedding, settling down properly. So, I wasn’t going to fight, but he knew that this was one I couldn’t just sit out of,” you continued, your voice thick with emotion. “We agreed that the odds were good. There were hundreds of us going to Wakanda, so I went.” You shrugged helplessly, your voice barely a whisper. “God I hoped-” you choked back the tears you were holding in, “When they didn’t answer their phone, I hoped they were just blipped you know? So, in five years’ time when we managed to fix things, and everyone came back. They didn’t and I knew,”

Remy shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes never leaving you. “You know there was nothing you could do,” he offered gently.

You gave him a tight smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I know that now. Back then not so much,” you replied, your voice hardening as you tried to push the pain back down, “I tried to find ways to bring him back. I fucked with a lot of timelines and universes,”

Remy nodded in understanding. “Is that why the TVA came after you?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

Another tight smile crossed your lips. “That… and other things,” you admitted. “I did a lot of stupid things.” Silence fell in between you. “Your turn,” You prodded, a gentle smile on your face as Remy looked at you.

Remy’s eyes were distant, clouded with the remnants of whatever nightmare had gripped him. He seemed to be wrestling with something deep inside, something that weighed on him so heavily that it had followed him into his sleep and refused to let go. When you asked him about his dream, his initial reaction was silence—a heavy, oppressive silence that filled the room like a thick fog.

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, and you could see the internal battle waging within him. He had always been guarded, keeping his thoughts and emotions locked away behind a well-constructed façade. But now, in the dim light of the early morning, with the memory of his nightmare still fresh, those walls seemed to be crumbling, even if just a little.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, like it had been dragged across gravel. “It was… about them,” he said, the words heavy with unspoken grief. He didn’t need to say who ‘them’ was; you knew. You had heard enough from him in the rare moments he opened up about his past to know the ghosts that haunted him. “I can’t stop seeing their faces,” he continued, his gaze dropping to his hands, which were now clenched into fists. “I see their eyes, the way they looked at me… like I was a monster.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his guilt pressing down on him. He hadn’t been himself when it happened, that much was clear, but that didn’t make the memories any less real or the guilt any easier to bear. The fact that he had been manipulated, his mind twisted by forces beyond his control, didn’t change the fact that it had been his hands that had done the terrible things he now couldn’t escape.

You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you knew how fragile this moment was. Remy was a man who carried his pain like a shield, using it to keep others at a distance. If you pushed too hard, he would retreat back into his shell, and you would lose whatever small connection you had managed to forge.

“It wasn’t you” you said gently, choosing your words carefully. “You weren’t in control of what you did.”

Remy shook his head, his expression one of deep anguish. “But it was still me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I was the one who did those things. My hands, my powers… I can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”

You could see the self-loathing in his eyes, the way he struggled to reconcile the man he wanted to be with the man he believed he had become. It was a battle that was tearing him apart, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure how to help him put those pieces back together.

“I was back there,” he said, his voice low and haunted. “In that place… with them. I couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard I tried. I kept reliving it, over and over. Their screams, the look in their eyes… it was all the same.”

You could hear the tremor in his voice, the way it wavered as he spoke. He was trying so hard to keep it together, but the pain was too much to bear. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his hands shook ever so slightly. This was a man who had been through hell and back, and it was clear that he was still living in that hell, even now. Remy’s gaze drifted away, his eyes unfocused, as if he were staring into the past, seeing something you couldn’t. His fingers tightened around the edge of the armchair, knuckles turning white. The air in the room felt thick, like the weight of his memories had seeped into the very atmosphere, pulling everything down with it.

“When I think about Anna,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s like I’m right back there, in that moment.” He swallowed hard, his throat working against the lump that had formed there. “I can see her, feel her… everythin’ is so clear, like it just happened yesterday.”

He paused, his breath hitching as he fought against the wave of emotions threatening to overtake him. You stayed quiet, sensing that this was something he needed to say, something he’d been carrying alone for too long.

“She was tryin’ to protect the kids,” he continued, his voice trembling. “They were all huddled together, scared outta their minds, and she… she stepped in front of ‘em. Told me to stop, told me I didn’t have to do this. But I wasn’t… I wasn’t me.”

The room seemed to close in around you both, the gravity of his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You could see the torment in his eyes, the way he was reliving every detail, every second of that memory.

“I remember the way her voice sounded,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “She was beggin’ me to stop, to come back to her. But it was like… it was like I could hear her, but I couldn’t stop. All I could feel was the power surgin’ through me, pushin’ me to do what I was programmed to do. I wrapped my energy around her throat, and she… she was still tryin’ to get through to me. Even as I was ready to kill her, she was still fightin’ for me.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he had to look away, unable to meet your eyes. The raw pain in his expression was almost too much to bear, and you felt your heart break for him, for the agony he was clearly reliving.

“I can hear her, but I can’t stop,” he murmured, his voice barely audible now. “It’s like I don’t know how. Like somethin’ inside me just… snapped. And I knew I was hurtin’ her, knew I was destroyin’ the only good thing I ever had, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop myself.”

He closed his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek. His hands were trembling now, and you could see the battle he was waging within himself, the desperate attempt to hold onto his composure.

“When I finally snapped outta it,” he continued, his voice a broken whisper, “it was too late. She was on the ground, gaspin’ for air, barely able to look at me. And the kids… they were screamin’, cryin’, tryin’ to get away. But all I could see was her… all I could see was what I’d done.”

He took a shuddering breath, his hands clenching into fists as he fought against the tidal wave of guilt that threatened to drown him. “I can still see her face,” he whispered, “the way she looked at me, like she didn’t recognize me anymore. Like I was a stranger. And I don’t blame her. How could I? I was the monster she’d always feared, the one she’d tried so hard to save. I loved her so much.”

His voice broke completely then, and he bowed his head, his shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back the tears. The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, but you knew there was nothing you could say that would ease the pain he was feeling. This was a wound that ran too deep, a scar that would never fully heal.

You stood up, walking over to him and placing a hand on his arm, offering what little comfort you could. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at you either. He just sat there, lost in the darkness of his memories, drowning in the guilt that had become his constant companion.

“I’m sorry, chérie,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so damn sorry.”

You squeezed his arm, wishing there was something more you could do, something that would take away even a fraction of the pain he was feeling. But you knew that this was a battle he would have to fight on his own, a demon he would have to face if he ever hoped to find any semblance of peace.

“Remy,” you said softly, your voice filled with a quiet determination, “you’re not that man anymore. Whatever happened back then, whatever they made you do, it wasn’t your fault. You have to believe that.”

He didn’t respond, but you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was struggling to accept your words, to believe that there was still something good left in him. But you also knew that it would take time, that healing from something like this wasn’t a simple process. It was messy and painful, and it would take more than a few words to break through the walls he’d built around himself.

But you weren’t going to give up on him. Not now, not ever. Because you’d seen the man he was, the man he could be, and you knew that somewhere deep down, beneath all the pain and guilt, that man was still there, waiting to be found again. “It took such a long time for me to be able to forgive myself for something that was out of my hands. It took a lot of crying and anger, but I got there. I had people who supported me, who allowed me to feel those things. So, you need to let your self feel the guilt and feel angry, but you can’t let yourself drown in it,” You whispered to him, crouching down in front of him.

For the first time since he’d started speaking, he looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes. It was faint, barely there, but it was enough.

And in that moment, you knew that no matter how long it took, no matter how difficult the journey ahead might be, you would be there for him. Because that’s what you did for the people you cared about. You stood by them, even when the world felt like it was crumbling around you, even when the darkness seemed too vast to overcome.

You stood by them, and you helped them find their way back to the light.

“Remy,” you said softly, your heart aching for him. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You have people who care about you, who want to help you.”

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and gratitude. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s hard. It’s hard to let people in when all you see is the darkness inside yourself.”

You nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. You had your own demons, your own memories that haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts. It was hard to let people in, to trust them with the parts of yourself that you wished you could forget.

“I get it,” you said, your voice gentle. “But you don’t have to carry that darkness by yourself. You don’t have to let it consume you.”

Remy sighed, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I’m trying,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet desperation. “But it’s hard.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Tell me about her, tell me about Anna,” As he began to speak, his voice softened, and you could see the tension in his body start to ease. He talked about Rogue, and for the first time since you had known him, his face lit up with something other than pain. There was a warmth in his voice, a fondness that softened his features as he recalled memories of her—her stubbornness, her bravery, the way she smiled at him when she thought no one else was watching.

You listened intently, watching the way his entire demeanour changed as he spoke about her. It was as if just the memory of her was enough to bring a small piece of him back to life. “You might get lucky,” you said quietly when he paused, “The universe has a strange way of leading people to where they need to be… and who they need to be with. I don’t think you’ll be away from her forever.”

Remy shrugged, his expression darkening slightly. “If she’s still alive,” he muttered, a bitterness creeping into his voice.

“She is,” you insisted, your voice firm. “She has to be. From what you’ve told me she’s a complete badass. And if she can deal with your shit then she can handle anything.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just hope she’s happy,” he said softly, the weight of his guilt still clear in his voice.

A heavy silence fell between you both, the only sound in the room the faint ticking of a clock in the distance. You moved back to the sofa and patted the seat beside you, a silent invitation for him to join you. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he stood up, crossing the room and sitting down beside you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, the closeness a comfort in the quiet room. “Thank you,” you whispered, “for telling me. Especially about Anna.”

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a one-armed hug. It was tentative, almost awkward, but there was a sincerity in the gesture that made you smile. “They’d be proud of you,” You didn’t even need to ask who Remy was talking about, you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded once, acknowledging what he said without saying anything in return.

“We’re taking a trip to the open-air market when the sun’s up,” you announced, trying to lighten the mood. “As a way to cheer us both up.”

Remy gave a small chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch. “Deal,” he agreed, his voice lighter than before. You pulled the blanket over both of you, tucking it around him as well.

“I think you’re more of my bestie than Wade at this rate,” you joked, earning a genuine smile from him.

As the night stretched on, the exhaustion finally caught up with both of you. Slowly, you both drifted off to sleep, your head still resting on his shoulder. For the first time since being pruned, Remy found himself slipping into a restful sleep, free from the nightmares that had plagued him for so long. And as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, there was a sense of peace in the room, a quiet understanding that, maybe, just maybe, you both were starting to heal. <> <> <>< <> <> <> The sun was out, casting a bright light over the open-air market, but the crisp, cold air nipped at your cheeks, turning them a rosy pink as you walked side by side with Remy. The market bustled with life—vendors calling out their goods, the murmur of conversations, the occasional laughter of children darting between stalls. Despite the lively atmosphere, there was a quietness between you and Remy, a comfortable silence that hadn’t always been there.

After the conversation you had the night before, something had shifted between you—a new understanding, a mutual respect born out of shared pain and vulnerability. It was as if the walls both of you had been carefully maintaining had crumbled just a little, enough for you to see the raw, unfiltered emotions underneath. It made this simple outing feel different, more significant. Every glance, every small smile exchanged between you felt laden with meaning.

You stopped at a stall selling handmade hats, reaching out to try on a woollen beanie that caught your eye. “What do you think?” you asked, turning to Remy with a playful grin.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Looks good on you, chérie,” he said, his tone warm.

There was something lighter about him today, you noticed. His shoulders weren’t as tense, and there was a certain softness in his expression that hadn’t been there before. It was as if the weight he’d been carrying had lessened, just a little.

You moved to another stall, this one filled with colourful candles in every imaginable scent. You picked up a lavender-scented one, holding it up to Remy’s nose. “What do you think? Too floral?”

He leaned in, taking a deep breath, and then shrugged with a slight smile. “Not bad. But I’m more of a cedarwood kinda guy.”

You chuckled, placing the candle back. “Good to know.”

As you continued through the market, showing Remy the different stalls, you couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to take in everything with a new appreciation. He wasn’t just passively following you; he was engaged, asking questions, making small comments about the items on display. It was a small change, but it felt significant, like he was finally allowing himself to be present in the moment rather than being consumed by his thoughts.

When you reached a fruit stall, you picked up a large apple, holding it up with an exaggerated look of shock. “Fuck me, look at the size of this,” you exclaimed, earning a small chuckle from the elderly cashier and a smirk from Remy.

“It can’t be natural,” you added, turning to the elderly man behind the counter. “Is it natural?”

The old man nodded, shuffling over to you with a proud smile. “Mmhmm, grown right here in my orchard.”

Remy picked up his own apple, turning it over in his hands as he examined it closely. “Did you wanna get some?” he asked, glancing at you.

“I’d only need three. One would last me a whole day,” you said with a grin, grabbing the apple from Remy’s hand and adding two more to your selection before handing them to the cashier.

While Remy and the cashier exchanged pleasantries, your attention was drawn elsewhere. A strange sensation crept up your spine, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You quickly turned around, scanning the crowd, but all you saw were passing families and couples, their laughter and chatter blending into the background noise of the market. But that feeling, that overwhelming sense of being watched, didn’t go away.

Remy noticed your sudden change in demeanour, his easy smile fading as he turned to you with concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, still searching the crowd for any sign of what—or who—was causing this unsettling feeling. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice tight. “I just… I feel like we’re being watched.”

Remy’s expression darkened, the lightness that had been there just moments ago vanishing as his eyes scanned the crowd with you. “You think it’s them?” he asked, his voice barely hiding the edge of tension.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, more frustrated this time. “But if it is, we need to get out of here. It’s too busy, too many people. I don’t want a showdown with collateral.”

Remy didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly handed the money to the cashier, thanking him hastily before grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowd. His grip was firm, protective, as if he were determined not to let anything happen to you.

As you wove through the bustling market, you noticed how Remy’s demeanour had shifted. The easy-going man who had been sampling candles and trying on hats just moments ago was gone, replaced by someone with a hardened expression, his eyes sharp and alert. He was silent, focused, mentally mapping out the best escape routes and planning how to keep you safe.

But despite the tension, there was also a sense of connection between you—a bond that had strengthened in the face of shared danger. The conversation from last night still hung in the air, unspoken but not forgotten, adding another layer of understanding to the way you moved together, instinctively in sync.

When you finally made it out of the market and into a quiet alleyway, you both stopped, catching your breath. Remy’s hand was still wrapped around yours, his thumb absently rubbing circles against your skin, grounding you in the present. You both watched as two men and a woman came to a stop just outside the alleyway you were hiding in. Remy pulled you back flush against the wall, his hand suddenly glowing purple as a fail safe in case they couldn’t hide from them. The light cast an eerie glow on the brick wall, a stark contrast to the cold shadows that surrounded you.

All you could hear was your heart beating in your ears, the sound nearly deafening in the tense silence. The murmurs of the agents just outside the alleyway reached you, muffled but clear enough to make out fragments of their conversation.

“We know they were here,” one of the men said, his voice rough and authoritative. “Split up. They can’t have gone far.”

The woman nodded, glancing down the alleyway but not quite looking into the shadows where you and Remy were hidden. “I’ll take the east side,” she said, her tone clipped and efficient. “You two cover the west and north. We’ll regroup in fifteen.”

Remy’s grip on your hand tightened, his other hand still glowing with kinetic energy, ready to defend you both if necessary. You pressed yourself closer to the wall, trying to make yourself as small and unnoticeable as possible. The sound of footsteps grew louder, then softer as the agents moved in different directions.

For a moment, it seemed like you might be safe. But then, one of the men paused, turning back towards the alley. “Wait,” he said, suspicion lacing his voice. “Check the alleys. They might be hiding.”

Your heart raced even faster, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Remy’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for a fight. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

The agent started towards the alleyway, his footsteps echoing ominously. You held your breath, praying that the shadows would be enough to conceal you. But just as he was about to step into the alley, a loud commotion erupted further down the street.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a voice shouted, followed by the sound of something crashing. The agent paused, glancing towards the source of the noise.

“Forget it,” the other man called. “We’ve got bigger problems.”

The agent hesitated for a moment, then turned away, heading towards the disturbance. You let out a shaky breath, your heart still pounding.

“That was close,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Remy nodded, his hand slowly losing its glow as he let the energy dissipate. “Too close,” he agreed, his voice low and tense. “We need to move. Now.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. “Let’s go.”

You moved cautiously through the alley, sticking to the shadows as much as possible. The market’s sounds faded into the background as you navigated the narrow, winding pathways. Remy led the way, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. Instead, you spotted Wade and Vanessa strolling together, Wade’s obnoxious waving catching your attention immediately. Despite the tension, a small, involuntary groan escaped your lips at the sight of him jumping up and down like an overgrown child.

Wade jogged over with that signature wide grin plastered across his face, his usual irreverent energy seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the situation. “Hey, lovebirds! Having a cute first date? Didn’t know Remy had a romantic side,” he teased, waggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes, exasperated, but managed a quick, tight hug with Vanessa. “Wade, this isn’t the time,” you said, your tone sharper than usual, laced with the urgency of the situation. “We have the TVA on our ass.”

Wade’s grin vanished instantly, his face taking on an uncharacteristically serious expression. He glanced over at Remy, then back at you, his usual levity replaced with concern. “You sure it’s them?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod, feeling the weight of the situation settling heavily on your shoulders. “We need to get out of here. It’s too busy, and I don’t want to risk a confrontation.”

Vanessa, always perceptive, looked around the park, her brow furrowing in concern. She could sense the unease in your voice, the way your eyes flicked toward every shadow, every stranger who walked past. “We should head back to your place,” she suggested, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s safer there.”

“Agreed,” came a gruff voice from behind. Logan had appeared beside Wade, his presence solid and reassuring. “Let’s move.” You looked surprised to see the dark-haired man suddenly by Wade and Vanessa’s side, “Where did-“ you shook your head, “You know what never mind,”.

The walk back to your house was tense, the air between you all crackling with unspoken fear. Remy stayed close to you, his hand brushing yours every so often, a silent gesture of support. You appreciated it more than you could say, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach refused to untangle. <><><><><><> You went to the closet, pulling out a small, well-used toolbox. The metal clink of the latch as you opened it seemed louder in the quiet of the house. Your movements were methodical, almost mechanical, as you carried the box to the kitchen. Everyone was scattered around, talking strategy and safety, but you needed to keep your hands busy. It was a way to cope, to ground yourself amidst the chaos.

You crouched down in front of the cabinet under the sink, pushing aside cleaning supplies and other miscellaneous items. You squeezed into the cramped space, the cold of the tiles seeping through your jeans. Pulling out a few tools, you began working on the sink with a focus that bordered on obsession. You unscrewed a small back panel, felt around inside, then put it back and sealed it up with cornice cement. Your movements were precise, as if you were performing some ritualistic task rather than merely fixing a sink.

Remy watched you for a moment from the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. The way you worked so intently, seemingly trying to fix something that wasn't broken, worried him. After a few minutes, he turned and joined Wade and Logan, who were deep in discussion about possible fail-safe options in case the TVA showed up. His worry was palpable, but he knew that staying close to you while you worked through your anxiety wasn’t helping, so he focused on the conversation.

Vanessa, sensing your distress, made her way over. She crouched down next to you, her presence gentle and non-intrusive. “What are you up to?” she asked softly, her eyes observing you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

You froze momentarily, your hands hovering over the tools. You had been so absorbed in the task that her question broke through your concentration. You took a deep breath before finally responding. “A fail-safe,” you said, your voice steady but laced with a trace of fear. “In case they get me, that in there is my fail-safe.”

Vanessa’s eyes softened with sympathy as she took in the sight of you working under the sink. She could see the layers of tension in your shoulders, the nervous energy that radiated from you. “Do you really think they’re going to get you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up, meeting her gaze with a mixture of resignation and fear. “Vanessa, I’m one of the only people in this universe who can bounce through universes. The first time they ever caught me, I was classified as a type 7 threat. It means that they can’t kill me because I’m too important to my timeline, but they can capture me.” You shrugged, a small, bitter smile forming on your lips. “And after telling me what will happen to me if they do catch me, I’m terrified.”

Vanessa’s expression hardened with determination as she looked over at the balcony, where Wade, Logan, and Remy were gathered. “There are three men out there who are going to do everything in their power to stop them from getting you,” she said firmly. “They won’t let you go without a fight. Remy won’t let you go without a fight.”

You glanced through the window, watching the men in question as they strategized. Your heart ached with a mix of gratitude and fear. “Yeah, I know,” you replied, your voice slightly unconvinced. “But knowing that and feeling it are two different things.”

Vanessa placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. “We’ll get through this,” she said softly. “You have to believe that.”

You nodded, though the tension in your body didn’t fully ease. Vanessa stayed with you for a moment longer, a silent support as you finished your makeshift fail-safe. When you finally emerged from under the sink, you felt a bit more grounded, but the fear still lurked, an ever-present shadow on your thoughts. Logan, Wade, and Remy reentered the house, their faces showing the determination and concern that had been etched into their features. Vanessa watched from her stool as you busied yourself in the kitchen, pulling out a teacup and starting to make yourself a cup of tea. The comforting aroma of the tea leaves filled the air, a small solace in the midst of your anxiety. You hoped that the caffeine-free tea would be gentler on your nerves than coffee.

As the tea steeped, you stared blankly at the swirling amber liquid, your thoughts a tumultuous mix of worry and resignation. “Being a timeline anchor with my abilities makes me a prime target,” you said softly to the three men who just walked into the room. “They can use me to stabilize timelines and universes, keep them from collapsing. And with the multiverse already starting to fall apart, they need me more than ever. Jumping through universes is becoming harder because of it. It’s why I’ve been struggling the last few times.”

Logan, who had been standing near the doorway, stepped forward with a concerned frown. “Is there anyone else who can do what you do?”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath before nodding. “When I was with Doctor Strange, I met a girl who had similar powers. But she’s just a child. Her abilities aren’t as strong as mine yet. When I knew her she couldn’t even control them.”

Logan’s face darkened, and his expression hardened. “Maybe we could find her.”

“No,” you snapped, the sharpness in your voice betraying your frustration. “She’s a literal child. Get that thought out of your head right now.”

Logan’s hands flew up in a placating gesture, his brow furrowing in surprise. “Alright, alright. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “But we can’t drag her into this. She deserves a chance at a normal life.”

The room fell silent, the gravity of your words settling over everyone. Logan’s face softened, a look of understanding dawning in his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Wade, having overheard the ongoing debate between you and the others, stepped forward with a determined look. His tone was resolute as he addressed the room. “We’re going to stay here for a few days. Just until everything calms down.”

You bristled at his words, crossing your arms defensively. “I don’t need anyone staying here,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I appreciate the concern, but it’s already cramped enough. I’d rather you all leave and let me handle this on my own.”

Logan’s expression hardened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got no idea what you might be dealing with. You know better than anyone that the TVA is no joke, and if they’re closing in, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

Wade, never one to miss an opportunity for a quip, chimed in with a wide grin. “Yeah, you know, stay close just in case we need to fend off some TVA goons. I vote we keep the fun going!”

You glared at Wade, your frustration evident. “This isn’t about fun. It’s about keeping everyone safe, and right now, adding more people to the mix isn’t going to help.”

Logan took a step closer, his voice firm but calm. “We’re not just here to make things harder. We’re here to make sure you’re protected. If the TVA gets close, we’ll be ready.”

Wade nodded in agreement. “Plus, it’s not like you have a secret panic room or anything. We’re just trying to be practical.”

Your eyes darted to Remy, who had been quietly watching the exchange. You could see the concern etched in his face, and you felt a pang of guilt for snapping at him earlier.

Remy cleared his throat, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. “Actually, I’d much rather they stay. If the TVA is really closing in, it’s safer for all of us if they’re here and close. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s better than taking chances.”

You looked at Remy, searching his face for any hint of insincerity but found none. His calm demeanour contrasted with your rising anxiety, and you could see the genuine worry in his eyes. "Who's side are you on?" You exclaimed to him, throwing your arms up in exasperation.

Logan gave a satisfied nod, turning to you with a look of quiet triumph. “There you go. It’s settled then.”

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “Fine,” you conceded, though your voice was tinged with reluctance. “But I swear, if this turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you all.”

Wade’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s going to be a blast. We’ll make it work.”

Vanessa, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. “I’ll help with the bedding, I noticed you don't really have alot. We’ll figure this out.”

As they moved to set up the additional bedding and make the space more liveable, you felt a mixture of relief and exasperation. You were grateful for their support, but the added stress of accommodating everyone weighed heavily on you.

As you watched the others bustling around, setting up the makeshift sleeping arrangements, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being overwhelmed. But seeing everyone working together to make the best of the situation gave you a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

You emerged from the hallway with more blankets and pillows, trying to make the living room as cozy as possible under the circumstances. You tossed the blankets onto the sofa with a sigh. “I know it’s not much,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of apology, “but I don’t really do sleepovers, or have people over at all, actually. Rarely. I hate having people over.”

Wade, ever the one to find humour in every situation, looked up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, I’m excited for this. Finally getting to stay over. Breaking in in the mornings just aren't as fun. Plus I might finally get to realize my dream of sleeping with a certain mutant over there," He turned to Remy, "Not you beautiful, the other one".

Logan grunted in response, his face contorted in a mix of irritation and resignation. “I’d rather sleep in the chair outside,” he muttered, clearly not thrilled about the prospect of sharing sleeping space.

You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, you're right. We’ll have to double up since there aren’t enough blankets and it’s pretty cold tonight. So, if anyone wants to avoid freezing, they might have to share.”

As you moved to gather the last of the bedding, you glanced over to see Wade and Logan busy rearranging the living room. Wade was making a production out of organizing the pillows, tossing them around with exaggerated flair and cracking jokes about their new ‘sleepover headquarters.’ His attempts to lighten the mood were both a welcome distraction and a small comfort amidst the tension.

Meanwhile, Remy had retreated to the kitchen, his posture rigid as he stared into space. The concern etched on his face was evident, and you could sense his inner turmoil. You wanted to reach out to him, offer some reassurance, but the exhaustion and stress of the day made you feel like you were running on empty.

You approached Remy, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you doing okay?” you asked softly, trying to offer him a moment of comfort.

Remy looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and resolve. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Just a bit overwhelming”.

You gave him a small, encouraging smile. “I know. It’s been a really really long day.”

As you turned back to the living room, you saw Wade holding up your phone, clearly amused by his latest idea, “Lack of bedding and snacks? That’s what Instacart is for. Oh, look the app’s already downloaded,” “You can’t Instacart more bedding, Wade,” you said, clearly exasperated. “It’s expensive, it’s stupid, and how often is it going to be used?”

Wade’s grin widened, unfazed by your frustration. “Are you saying you don’t want more super special BFF sleepovers?”

You placed your hands on your hips, trying to suppress a smile despite your exhaustion. “No, I don’t want any more super special BFF sleepovers. You’re like an ADHD child on crack. I am exhausted by you,” you said, though there was a trace of amusement in your voice.

Wade’s grin only grew wider. “Well, you’d be able to rest and get some sleep if we Instacarted more bedding to make the sleeping space bigger”.

You stared at Wade for a moment before shaking your head and turning on your heel, “I need something strong if I’m going to get through tonight,” you walked back into the kitchen, searching the top shelf for whatever alcohol you may have left over.   You start getting a headache that had been slowly building throughout the day. The constant buzz of conversation, the stress of your current situation, and the weight of everything else had all finally taken their toll. The dull throb at the back of your skull was a reminder that you’d been pushing yourself too hard, trying to hold everything together when, in reality, you were hanging by a thread.

Wade’s grin only grew wider as he noticed your discomfort, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in your head. "I feel like Wendy's maybe?” he quipped, his voice annoyingly cheerful given the circumstances.

You stared at Wade for a moment, trying to process his words through the haze of your headache. It was clear he was trying to lighten the mood, but it only made you more irritated. Shaking your head, you turned on your heel, muttering under your breath, “I need something strong if I’m going to get through tonight.”

Without waiting for a response, you walked back into the kitchen, your steps purposeful as you made a beeline for the top shelf where you kept your alcohol. Your fingers fumbled slightly as you reached up, searching for whatever you had left over. The headache was getting worse, the pressure behind your eyes intensifying with every passing second.

You finally grabbed a bottle, not even bothering to check what it was. You just needed something—anything—to take the edge off. Unscrewing the cap, you poured yourself a generous amount, the liquid sloshing slightly as your hand trembled. The sharp scent of alcohol hit your nose, and for a brief moment, you hesitated.

You didn’t usually drink to numb the pain. It was a habit you’d seen too many people fall into, a crutch that often led to more problems than it solved. But tonight, the thought of dealing with everything sober felt unbearable. Remembering the words you spoke about your friends drinking just a few weeks earlier reverberated throughout your mind.

With a heavy sigh, you set the glass down, resolving to face whatever came next—headache and all. As the noise from the living room continued—Wade’s playful banter and the rustle of blankets—Remy found himself needing a moment of quiet. He slipped outside onto the small balcony, hoping the cool evening air would help clear his mind. Logan, noticing Remy’s sudden departure, followed him out, his face marked by concern.

Logan leaned against the railing, casting a sidelong glance at Remy. “You alright?”

Remy, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed, looked out at the street below, his expression troubled. “Just needed some space,” he admitted, his voice low. “It’s a bit overwhelming in there.”

Logan nodded, taking in Remy’s pensive demeanour. “I get it. Things have been intense. But you’ve got a lot on your mind. What’s really bothering you?”

Remy turned his head to look at Logan, his eyes clouded with worry. “It’s just… everything that’s happening. Seeing her so scared, so vulnerable—it’s messing with my head. I know she keeps saying she’s okay, but she keeps having this look on her face. I know we’re all here for her, but I keep thinking about what would happen if the TVA really does come for her. What would happen if they got her.”

Logan’s expression softened with understanding. He crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “I know it’s hard. She’s important, and it’s not just about her abilities. It’s about the person she is. But you’ve got to remember, we’re all in this together. We’re not letting anything happen to her.”

Remy sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. “It’s not just that. I keep thinking about how she’s handling all this. I’ve seen her put on a brave face, but I know she’s terrified. And that—” he paused, his voice catching, “—that scares me more than anything. I just feel so helpless.”

Logan stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on Remy’s shoulder. “You’re not helpless. We’re all here for her, and we’re doing everything we can to keep her safe. It’s okay to feel scared, but don’t let it consume you. She needs us to be strong, to keep our heads together.”

Remy glanced back toward the living room, where the sounds of Wade’s jokes and the rustling of blankets continued. “I know. I just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I just wish there was more I could do. I wish I could make everything better for her.”

Logan’s gaze was steady, his voice firm but kind. “We all do. But sometimes, just being here, supporting her—that’s enough. We’ve got her back. And as long as we stick together, we can handle whatever comes our way.”

Remy and Logan lingered on the balcony a moment longer, the quiet camaraderie between them a source of comfort. Remy took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. The tension in his chest began to ease, though the worry for you still gnawed at him.

Logan, sensing that Remy needed a bit more time to gather his thoughts, gave him a final pat on the shoulder before heading back inside. Remy stayed behind, leaning on the railing as he watched the lights of the city flicker in the distance. He could hear your voice faintly through the open window, talking to Wade and Vanessa about the sleeping arrangements, and he allowed himself a small, sad smile. Even in the midst of all this chaos, you were still trying to take care of everyone.

He finally turned back inside, walking into the living room where Logan was helping Wade arrange the blankets on the couch. You were bustling about, trying to make the limited bedding stretch as much as possible. The sight of you working so hard for them, despite everything, tugged at his heart.

Remy approached you quietly as you tossed another blanket onto the couch. “You don’t have to do all this, chérie,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth.

You glanced up at him, a tired smile on your face. “I know, but I hate feeling like I’m not doing anything to help. Keeping my hands busy keeps my mind from spiralling.”

Remy nodded, understanding all too well. “You’re doing more than enough. We’re all here to protect you, to keep you safe. You don’t have to shoulder everything.”

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. “I know,” you whispered, “but it’s hard not to feel like a burden sometimes. Like you’re all here because of me, and I’m the reason we’re in this mess.”

Remy’s expression softened as he reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not a burden,” he said firmly. “You’re worth fighting for, worth protecting. Don’t ever doubt that.”

You blew out a breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. You managed a shaky smile and nodded, appreciating his words more than you could express.

Wade, noticing the tender moment between you and Remy, couldn’t resist interjecting. “Aww, look at you two being all sappy! Makes me wanna puke and hug you at the same time.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Well, I hope you keep your bodily fluids to yourself, Wade,” you shot back, a bit of your usual spark returning.

Wade grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “No promises!”

Logan, always the pragmatist, cleared his throat. “Alright, we’ve got the bedding sorted as best we can. I’ll take the chair outside if I have to.”

Wade’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Or you could just share the couch with me, big guy. Think of all the bonding we could do!”

Logan shot him a withering look. “I’d rather sleep in a dumpster.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I’m sorry I don’t have more space,” you said, glancing around at the makeshift sleeping arrangements. “I don’t really have people over. Like, ever.”

Vanessa, ever the diplomat, placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. I'm heading home soon anyway so it'll be one less person you have to worry about.” You opened your mouth to say something but Vanessa shook her head, "I'll be back in the morning. Someones got to feed that stupid dog Wade brought home".

Remy, who had been watching you with a mix of concern and affection, finally spoke up. “Someone can take my bed,” he offered, his tone firm. “I’m not going to get much sleep tonight anyway.”

You frowned, the worry returning to your eyes. “Remy, you need to rest too. You’ve been through a lot.”

He shook his head, his gaze steady. “I’ll be alright, chérie. I’d feel better knowing you’re all comfortable.” As the makeshift sleeping arrangements were finalized, Logan stood near the window, peering out into the night. The weight of the day’s events hung heavily in the air, and he knew the night ahead wouldn’t be restful for any of them.

“I’ll take first watch,” Logan announced, his voice gruff but steady.

You glanced at him, a mixture of appreciation and concern in your eyes. You weren’t sure how you felt about any of them staying up, especially after how tense things had been. Before you could say anything, Remy stepped forward.

“I’ll go with you,” he offered, his tone calm but resolute.

Logan nodded, seeming to appreciate the backup, though he didn’t voice it. He simply turned back toward the door, ready to head out.

Remy, however, lingered for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. There was something in his eyes, a mix of protectiveness and something deeper that made your heart ache. “Get some sleep, chérie,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You opened your mouth to say something, perhaps to protest or to tell him to be careful, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you closed your mouth and nodded once, your expression softening. “Stay safe, both of you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan gave a curt nod, already heading toward the door, while Remy lingered for just a heartbeat longer before following him outside.

As the door clicked shut behind them, you stood there for a moment, the silence in the room feeling almost suffocating. You turned around to find Vanessa gathering her things, getting ready to leave for the night. Despite everything, she managed to offer you a reassuring smile as she approached.

“It’s going to be okay,” Vanessa said gently, pulling you into a warm hug. You hugged her back, trying to draw some comfort from her words, though the anxiety gnawing at you was hard to shake.

When she finally pulled back, you nodded, giving her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Vanessa. Be careful out there.”

She nodded, giving your hand a final squeeze before heading toward the door. Wade, who had been watching the exchange, leaned casually against the wall with his arms crossed. His usual humour was still present, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that wasn’t often there.

As Vanessa left, Wade turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So, do you still have any of those cute little facemasks I saw in your bathroom cabinet a few weeks back? I feel like a good pampering session is exactly what we need right now.”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the question. But then, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. Wade’s ability to lighten the mood, even in the most stressful situations, was something you found oddly comforting.

“You’re unbelievable, Wade,” you said, shaking your head in mock exasperation. “But yeah, I think I have a few left.”

Wade’s grin widened, and he straightened up, rubbing his hands together. “Perfect! Let’s slap those bad boys on and have ourselves a little spa night. We might as well look fabulous while the TVA hunts us down, right?”

You chuckled softly, appreciating the levity he brought to the situation. “Sure, why not,” you said, heading toward the bathroom to retrieve the facemasks.

You stirred, your mind slowly surfacing from the depths of unconsciousness. The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of conversation filtering through the haze. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the disorientation. Shadows danced across the walls, distorted by the faint light seeping in from the hallway.

Eventually, you managed to sit up, wincing at the dull ache in your head. The last thing you remembered was the hideout and the battle—everything after that was a blur. The familiar surroundings of your home were a welcome sight, though the faint scent of something burning caught your attention. It was a sharp, acrid smell that clashed with the otherwise comforting ambiance.

With a groan, you pushed yourself off the couch, the room swaying slightly as you steadied yourself against the wall. Your legs felt unsteady, each step a reminder of your exhaustion. You made your way to the kitchen, driven by the mix of curiosity and concern over the burning smell and the familiar, yet unexpected, sound of Wade munching on something.

As you approached the kitchen, the voices grew clearer. Wade’s laughter, along with the clinking of dishes, filled the space. You could hear snippets of conversation—Vanessa’s melodic voice and Logan’s low rumble. The scene that greeted you was oddly domestic: Wade was perched on a stool by the counter next to Remy, a plate of charred remains in front of him, while Vanessa and Logan chatted, seemingly amused by the situation.

Remy was quietly observing the scene unfolding before him. His gaze was distant, and he seemed more withdrawn than usual, his eyes shadowed with unspoken thoughts. Logan, ever perceptive, noticed the silence, casting a concerned glance in Remy’s direction.

“Finally awake, huh?” Wade said with a smirk, his mouth full as he leaned against the counter. “We were starting to think you’d slept through the apocalypse.”

You rubbed your temples, trying to shake off the lingering fog in your mind. “What happened? And why does it smell like something’s on fire?”

Vanessa, standing by the stove, gave you a sympathetic look. “You’ve been out for a while. We were trying to make dinner, but Wade took over, and, well, let’s just say the kitchen isn’t his natural habitat.”

“When did you get here?” you asked, surprised to see her.

“A little while ago,” she said with a smile. “I couldn’t let Wade destroy your kitchen without at least trying to help.”

Logan’s eyes twinkled with a mix of humour and exasperation as he turned away from the thoughts about Remy. “Tried to warn him, but you know Wade. He’s got a talent for turning a simple meal into a disaster.”

Wade chimed in, pointing at Remy. “Speaking of disasters, you should’ve seen it—Remy carried you inside like a true Romeo after you collapsed. And let’s not forget, it was our charming Cajun here who busted in your door to get to you.”

Remy’s face flushed slightly as he turned to you, a touch of embarrassment in his voice. “I’m real sorry about the door. I’ll fix it, but I ain’t sure where the tools are.”

You chuckled, giving him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. That door has seen better days. You probably could’ve pushed it open if you’d tried. It was already on its last legs.”

Wade laughed, adding, “Yeah, I think you could’ve knocked it down with a gentle breeze. But hey, nice to know you’re all about making a grand entrance.”

Remy shook his head with a soft smile. “Next time, I’ll make sure to bring my own tools—or at least not break anything.”

Wade smirked, leaning in. “Remy, just remember: when you’re carrying someone in, try not to also carry away the door with you.”

You joined in the laughter, appreciating the light-hearted banter. Despite the lingering headache, the humour was a welcomed distraction. You moved to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water, the cool liquid helping to clear the fog in your mind. “How long was I out for?” Logan glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s 10 p.m.,” he replied, his voice gruff but laced with concern. “How’re you feeling?” You shrugged, trying to ignore the pounding in your skull. “I’ve had worse hangovers.” Your gaze shifted to Remy, who had come to sit at the table. “How’re you doing?”

Remy looked up, his red-on-black eyes meeting yours briefly before he offered a faint smile. “Doin’ as well as I can, cher,” he replied, his Cajun accent thickening slightly as he spoke. “Considerin’ the circumstances, anyway.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. It wasn’t easy adjusting to a new reality, especially after everything that had happened. You made your way over to Wade, who was still munching away, and plucked the remaining bits of leftovers from his hands. “Guess I’ll have to settle for what’s left,” you said with a smirk, popping a piece into your mouth.

Wade grinned at you, not the least bit sorry. “You snooze, you lose, babe.” You took a sip of your water, the coolness easing the remnants of your headache. Logan, now leaning against the counter with a concerned expression, joined you in the conversation. “So, what do you think the TVA’s planning?” he asked, his tone serious.

You shrugged, feeling a mix of frustration and anxiety. “Honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t followed us. I thought they’d be all over us by now,”

Logan nodded; his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, it’s odd. They’ve always been like a dog on a bone. I keep wondering if they’re biding their time, waiting for the right moment or some kind of signal.”

Remy, who had been quietly listening from his stool, spoke up with a contemplative tone. “Maybe they’re waitin’ for somethin’. Could be they’re plannin’ somethin’ big. They don’t strike me as the type t’ just sit back and do nothin’.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Remy’s insight. “That’s a good point. They’ve always seemed to have a plan, and they don’t usually act without a reason. Maybe they’re setting up a trap or preparing for another move.” You nodded, considering Remy’s comment. “It’s possible. The TVA’s always been meticulous, and they wouldn’t just let us slip away without a reason, that’s not their style. They’ve chased me through universes before. This feels, I dunno, different.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, whatever it is, we need to stay sharp. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

You rolled your eyes as you continued to pick at the charred remains, “I’ve dealt with them before; we’ll be okay,” You reassured. You turned to Remy, who was still silently watching you and Logan talk, and pointed down the hall. “Remy, the bathroom’s down there if you need a shower.  I’m pretty sure I can find some clothes around here that you can squeeze into.”

Wade’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Oh, do tell. Why do you just have men’s clothes lying around? Who have you been sleeping with?” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Let it go, Wade.”

But Wade wasn’t done. “No, really! I’m curious now. Are we talking ex-boyfriends, or is this a whole secret life thing?”

Vanessa chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. “Wade, you know you’re not helping. Besides, I think it’s a bit more about practicality than scandal.”

Remy, trying to hold back a laugh, shot Wade a look of bemusement. “It’s fine, really. I didn’t expect a fashion show when I came here.”

Wade grinned. “Oh, I see! It’s a classic case of ‘here’s some clothes, now tell me all your secrets.’”

Vanessa rolled her eyes playfully. “Wade, you should know better than to assume everything is a scandal. Sometimes people just have clothes lying around.”

Wade shrugged dramatically. “Well, if it’s not scandalous, then why not share? It’s a boring dinner otherwise.”

You raised an eyebrow at Wade. “Oh, is that right? And what would you do if I told you? Write a tell-all book?”

Wade leaned in with a mock-serious expression. “Absolutely. ‘The Secret Lives of Ordinary People: Volume 1.’”

Vanessa chuckled again, shaking her head. “Remy, don’t mind him. They all get a bit ridiculous after a day like today.”

Remy smiled, clearly appreciating the light-hearted distraction. “No worries. I think I’ll just take that shower and let the clothes be a mystery for now.”

Wade threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.” Ignoring the now huffing man-child, you turned to Remy, who was still sitting on the kitchen stool, looking slightly more bemused. “Hey, Remy,” you said gently. “I know it’s a bit forward but if you’re looking for a place to stay, I’ve got a spare room available. It’s not much, and it smells a bit weird, but it’s available if you want it.”

Remy looked up, surprise and relief flickering in his eyes. “I appreciate that,” he said, his Cajun accent evident. “I don’t have anywhere else t’ go right now.”

You offered him a warm smile. “No problem. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a space of your own. If you’re interested, I can show you the room and the rest of the house.”

Remy nodded, looking grateful. “I’d like that. Thank you. I wasn’ sure how I’d manage—everything’s so different here.”

You led him down the hall, chatting to ease the transition. “I get it, it be overwhelming adjusting to a new place, especially with everything you’ve been through. The room’s down this way. It’s pretty basic, but it’s private. You can make it your own space however you like.”

Remy followed, his gaze shifting to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m just glad t’ have a place t’ settle, even if it’s just for now.”

You stopped in front of the door to the spare room. “Here we are. It’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it.”

Remy opened the door, peering inside. The room was small but functional, with a bed, a dresser, and a few personal touches that made it feel like a room ready for someone to call it home. “It looks good. Better than I expected. I appreciate this.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Glad to hear that. If there’s anything you need to make it more comfortable, just let me know. I’ve got some extra blankets and pillows if you want them. Not very many because I don’t always have guests, but I have a few”.

Remy turned back to you with a small, grateful smile. “I might take ya up on that. For now, I just need t’ get settled and find a bit of peace. It’s been a rough transition.”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “Take all the time you need. We’re all adjusting in our own ways. If you need a break from it all or just someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Remy’s Cajun accent softened his words, and his expression showed a mix of relief and weariness. “Thank you. It means a lot t’ have someone in my corner.”

You smiled warmly. “Anytime. Now did you want me to show you where the bathroom is?”

Nodding once, Remy stepped forward, “Uh, please. Feels li’ a lifetime being in these clothes,”

You led him down the hall to the bathroom, the soft glow of the hallway light illuminating your path. Once inside, you flicked on the overhead light, which cast a warm, comforting glow over the small space. You pointed out the body wash, shampoo, and a neatly stacked pile of fresh towels. “Everything you need is right here. Just make yourself comfortable.”

As you were about to leave, you hesitated, glancing back at him. Remy stood in the middle of the room, looking somewhat lost and out of place, like a man caught between worlds. His clothes were a bit too big, and his expression carried a mixture of weariness and wariness.

“It does get easier, I know it sounds repetitive and fake, but it does,” you said softly, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “I promise you.”

Remy met your gaze and returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a shadow of doubt in his expression. “I hope so. It’s a bi’ of an adjustment,” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

You nodded, fully understanding the enormity of what he was facing. “Take your time,” you said gently. “No rush. If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll just go grab you those clothes.”

He gave a slight nod, seeming to appreciate the kindness behind your words. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

You gave him one last reassuring smile before gently closing the door behind you, leaving him to his solitude.

 You slipped back down the way you came and into your bedroom, the soft creak of the floorboards betraying your quiet steps. The room was dimly lit, the shadows cast by the small lamp on the bedside table a serene but dark atmosphere. You crouched beside the bed, reaching under it to pull out a clear plastic tub filled with men’s clothes. The tub felt heavier than it should, each movement sending a shiver of nostalgia through you.

With a deep breath, you lifted the lid and peered inside. The mix of fabrics and colours was a jumble of memories. Your hands trembled slightly as you began sifting through the clothes. The smell of laundry detergent and old fabric filled the air, mingling with your own rising emotions.

Your fingers brushed against a flannelette shirt. You brought it up to your nose, the light familiar scent of it filling your senses. The memories came rushing back, vivid and painful. It was a scent that spoke of late-night conversations, laughter, and warmth—a stark contrast to the emptiness that now accompanied it. Tears welled in your eyes, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to place the shirt back into the tub, as if by putting it away you could somehow push the memories into the past.

You continued rummaging through the clothes, your movements becoming more deliberate as you searched for something practical for Remy. Your fingers found a pair of well-worn tracksuit pants, a simple black top, and a cozy jumper. These items seemed neutral, almost mundane, and you hoped they would offer Remy some comfort in his new, uncertain world. With a sense of urgency, you closed the tub and slid it back under the bed. You stood up, your emotions still raw but hidden behind a calm exterior. You approached the mirror, checking your reflection. Your eyes were red-rimmed, but you managed to compose yourself, smoothing down your hair and adjusting your posture to mask any trace of your internal struggle.

You walked back to the bathroom door, knocking gently before speaking. “Remy, there are clothes just outside the door for you. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

You placed the clothes neatly outside the door, your hands lingering on the handle for a moment before you let go and turned to head back to the kitchen. The sound of Wade’s voice drifted down the hallway, accompanied by the light-hearted laughter of the group. “I bet even his abs have abs.”

You rejoined the group in the kitchen, feeling a sense of satisfaction after showing Remy to his new room. “I showed Remy the spare room,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “I’m happy to have him stay with me until he gets settled in.”

Wade, always quick with a joke, grinned. “Ah, so you’re just roommates now, huh? I guess that means I can crash in your room if I need a quick escape.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes and gave Wade a playful slap on the arm. “Wade, stop it. It’s nice of you to offer Remy a place to stay.”

Logan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s good you’re helping him out. At least now he’ll be here to keep an eye out in case the TVA comes knocking.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the need to clarify. “That’s not the reason I offered him the room. I just wanted to help him get settled and give him a bit of stability.”

Vanessa chimed in, her tone practical. “But it does help that he’ll be here. We can all use a bit of extra vigilance with the TVA still out there.”

You nodded in agreement, recognizing the practical aspect of the situation. “It’s an added benefit, but my main goal is to make sure he feels comfortable and has a place to call his own for now.”

Wade smirked, looking relieved. “Well, as long as he doesn’t mind my occasional visits for emergency takeout runs, everything should work out just fine.”

You laughed, appreciating the light-hearted moment amidst the seriousness of the situation. “I’m sure he’ll be just fine. And who knows, maybe he’ll even teach you a thing or two about cooking.”

The group chuckled, the camaraderie providing a welcome break from the tension. You felt a renewed sense of purpose, knowing that you were doing what you could to support Remy while also keeping your own household and its occupants safe.

Over the following weeks, Remy gradually settled into a routine, blending into the rhythm of the household with a cautious but steady presence. He took on various chores around the house, adapting to the new environment with a mixture of reserve and quiet determination. Each morning, you would find him slipping out for his daily walks before you were awake, his movements soft and deliberate. The sight of him leaving the house was a subtle reminder of his need for solitude and a hint of the struggles he faced.

As the weeks wore on, Remy’s habits became more apparent. His morning walks were a constant, but his evenings were marked by an increasing distance. You couldn’t help but notice the lack of sleep that seemed to accompany his nightly routines. Whenever you tried to bring it up, he would skillfully deflect or change the topic, his Cajun drawl adding a layer of charm that made it harder to push the issue.

Despite the growing concerns, you made a conscious effort to respect his space while still being supportive. The dynamic between you shifted subtly, with a blend of shared moments and unspoken struggles weaving through your interactions. You both navigated the delicate balance between maintaining a sense of normalcy and addressing the quiet challenges that lay beneath the surface. Until it all came to a head.

“This is great, isn’t it?” You looked over at Wade and Vanessa who were sitting on your couch, Wade’s arm falling easily over his girlfriend’s shoulders. The man continued, ignoring your raised eyebrow; “I mean, it really is. We both have an insomniac alcoholic each. You with Remy LeBeau, me with the Wolverine. We could almost start up our own adoption centre if we keep collecting them like Pokémon,” Turning your head to look over your shoulder into the kitchen, where you could see Remy and Logan quietly talking with copious bottles of brown liquid between them, you turned back to Wade. “Have you ever thought they’ve been through some shit? Both of them are out of their own timelines, their own universes, starting again from scratch on top of dealing with our shit; yeah, it’s bound to tip you over the edge,” you justified.

Wade’s smile faltered slightly, but he shrugged, the gesture dismissive. “Yeah, I get it. They’ve got baggage. But that doesn’t mean we just sit around and watch them drown in it.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Remy seems to be pretty holed up since being here,” you added, your voice tinged with worry. “I’ve tried to talk to him about it, offering to show him around the city just so he’s not inside his head but he brushes me off.”

Wade’s expression softened slightly. “I hear ya. Logan’s been downing whiskey like it’s water, and Remy’s got that whole brooding thing going on. It’s like they’re both trying to drown out their pasts, but it’s not working.”

Vanessa, who had been listening quietly, interjected. “They’re not just dealing with the loss of their timelines. They’ve got the trauma of being pulled from their lives and thrown into this chaotic mess. It’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

You nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And it’s not just about the alcohol. It’s the isolation, the feeling of not belonging. Remy’s been keeping to himself, and Logan’s been trying to numb the pain. I’m worried that neither of them are really facing what’s going on.”

Wade raised an eyebrow and added sarcastically. “So, what do you suggest we do? Send them to superhero therapy?”

Vanessa gave him a nudge. “Is there one of those?” She looked at you and frowned when you shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, “But seriously, it might be worth considering some sort of support. They need to talk to someone who understands their situation.”

You shrugged. “I don’t really know what to do. I’ve dealt with something like this once before, but the person only started to make progress when they were sent to Wakanda for a while. It’s not like we can just send them off to another world for therapy.”

Wade’s face took on a more sarcastic expression. “Maybe we can find someone who specializes in this kind of thing. I mean, there’s gotta be someone out there who deals with multiverse trauma that’s in the yellow pages.” You pulled a face at him, “Nice Wade, great chat,” You retorted, looking back at the two men who were now discussing something quickly and harshly.

The conversation drifted as Wade and Vanessa shifted topics, but your thoughts remained on Gambit. The echo of the bottles and the murmur of voices in the kitchen served as a constant reminder of the struggle unfolding just beyond the threshold. “Screw this,” You mumbled to yourself as you stood up, earning a surprised look from Wade and Vanessa.

Determined to confront Remy about his drinking, you approached the kitchen, where he was now sprawled on a bar stool, the bottle of whiskey nearly empty. Logan had retreated to the living room, leaving you and Remy alone. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation you knew had to happen.

“Remy,” you began softly but firmly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the knots of anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We need to talk.”

Remy looked up from his drink, his red eyes dim and unfocused. He was clearly a few drinks in, his usual sharpness dulled by the alcohol. “Not now, chère. Just let me be,” he muttered, his voice carrying a weariness that you’d come to recognize too well.

You shook your head, stepping closer, feeling the tension tighten your chest. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening. We’re doing this, and I’m not letting you charm me out of it by using your French cowboy Cajun accent thing,” you said, your tone firmer than you felt. “You’ve been staying in my spare room for weeks, months even, and all I’ve seen you do is drink and not sleep. It’s not healthy, Remy.”

He sighed, turning his gaze back to the half-empty glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid absently. “I’m fine. Just tryin’ to get through it, same as everyone else,” he muttered, clearly wanting to avoid the conversation.

“Getting through it?” You echoed incredulously, the frustration in your voice bubbling to the surface. “Remy, you’re drowning in it. And I’m just supposed to sit back and watch you self-destruct?”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed at your words. The tension between you was palpable, and you could feel the situation escalating. “You don’t get it, chère,” he said, his voice growing colder. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Then tell me,” You urged, stepping closer, desperate to break through the wall he’d built around himself. “Tell me what’s so terrible that you think you deserve to punish yourself like this.”

Remy’s hand tightened around the bottle, and for a moment, you thought he might just walk away. But instead, in a sudden burst of anger, he hurled the bottle across the kitchen. It smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces, the sound echoing sharply in the room.

You flinched, your heart racing as you stared at the broken glass scattered across the floor. Remy’s chest heaved with emotion, his eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and despair.

“I don’t belong here!” he shouted, his voice raw and filled with pain. “I wasn’t even sure it was worth comin’ here in the first place. Things like me…we belong in the Void, where we can’t hurt no one else!”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The sight of him standing there, so lost and consumed by guilt, broke your heart. His usual confidence, the easy charm that seemed to come so naturally to him, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked like a man on the brink of collapse, haunted by memories that he couldn’t escape, by demons that he couldn’t outrun.

His red eyes, usually so vibrant and full of mischief, were dull and glassy, reflecting the turmoil swirling inside him. The way his shoulders slumped, the tension in his clenched fists, the raw edge in his voice—it was all too much. You could see how much he was hurting, how deeply he believed that he didn’t deserve a second chance, that he didn’t deserve to be here, surrounded by people who cared about him.

Your heart ached with the need to reach out to him, to pull him back from the edge he seemed so determined to throw himself over. But the wall he’d built around himself felt impenetrable, and for the first time, you felt the crushing weight of helplessness. How could you convince him that he was worth saving when he couldn’t see it himself? How could you break through the thick fog of self-loathing that clouded his mind, that made him believe he belonged in the Void, away from everyone and everything?

You swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears that threatened to spill over. This wasn’t the man you knew—the man who could light up a room with just a smile, who could make you laugh over the most mundane things. This was someone who had been broken down by the weight of his past, by the choices he’d made, and the things he’d seen. And it shattered you to see him like this, to see how much he was hurting and how far he’d fallen.

“Remy,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself. I’ve told you this time and time again. You don’t have to punish yourself like this.”

But even as you spoke, you could see the doubt flickering in his eyes, the way he recoiled from the idea of being saved, of being worth saving. It was as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone in, of letting anyone see the depth of his pain.

He turned away from you, his back hunched as if he could physically shield himself from your words, from the concern and care you were offering. And it tore you apart to realize that he might never let you in, that he might never believe that he deserved anything more than the darkness he was drowning in.

The room felt colder, the shattered glass on the floor a stark reminder of how fragile everything was—how easily things could break, how quickly someone could slip through your fingers if you weren’t careful.

You wanted to reach out, to touch him, to pull him back from the ledge he was teetering on. But you were afraid—afraid that if you pushed too hard, he would shut down completely, that he would retreat even further into himself, where you couldn’t reach him.

So you stood there, the silence stretching between you like a chasm, filled with all the things you couldn’t say, all the fears you couldn’t voice. The sight of him, so broken and lost, etched itself into your mind, a painful reminder of how much he was hurting, of how much he needed help—and how powerless you felt in that moment to give it to him.  “Everyone has done bad things. But that doesn’t make you a bad person. You can’t keep running from your past like this. You’re here now, with people who care about you, who want to help you.” You stated, “I don’t know anything about you but what I see, but I know you’re a good person who had to make bad choices to survive,”

He shook his head, his eyes filled with torment. “You don’t understand. The things I’ve done…”

“I don’t need to know every detail to understand that you’re hurting,” you said, taking a step closer, trying to reach him. “But shutting us out, pushing us away—it’s not going to make it any better.”

Before Remy could respond, the door to the kitchen burst open, and Wade, Logan, and Vanessa rushed in, drawn by the sound of the glass shattering. Wade’s eyes darted around, taking in the scene with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“What the hell happened in here?” Wade asked, his usual humour absent as he looked between you and Remy.

You quickly put up a hand to calm them down. “It’s okay, we’re just having a small disagreement,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension.

Remy scoffed, his expression a mixture of bitterness and frustration. “Small disagreement, huh? Is that what we’re callin’ it now?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as he took in Remy’s state, the tension in the room clear to him. “This doesn’t look small,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Before you could respond, Remy’s anger flared again. “You don’t need to play referee, Logan. Just stay outta it.”

Logan stepped forward, his presence calm but commanding. “That’s enough, Remy. Go cool down,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

For a moment, it seemed like Remy might push back, his fists clenching at his sides. But something in Logan’s gaze made him pause, the fire in his eyes dimming slightly.

Vanessa moved toward Remy, her expression softening as she reached out to him. “Come on, let’s go outside for a bit,” she said gently, taking his arm. “Get some air.”

Reluctantly, Remy allowed her to lead him out onto the back balcony, the tension in his posture slowly easing as he stepped outside.

As they left, the room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the argument still lingering in the air. Logan turned to you; his eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now that the immediate tension had passed.

You nodded, though your heart still ached from the confrontation. “Of course, I dealt with worse. We all have our demons, right?”

Logan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “He’s got a lot he’s dealing with. But he’s lucky to have you looking out for him.”

Wade, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, finally spoke up. “Yeah, we’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid,” he said, trying to inject a bit of his usual levity into the situation, though his tone was more subdued.

You managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Remy sat on the step outside, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he stared out into the darkness. Beside him, Vanessa sat quietly, her presence calm and steady. He held his head in his hands, the weight of regret pressing down on him like a heavy stone.

“I messed up,” Remy muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “After everything she’s done for me, this is how I treat her? Lashin’ out like some kind of idiot.”

Vanessa nodded, her expression understanding but firm. “You did mess up, Remy. But she’s not the kind of person to hold a grudge. If she was, Wade and half of our friends would’ve been tossed out on their asses a long time ago.” She glanced at him, her eyes softening. “She gets that you’re struggling. We all do. But you can’t lash out like that at the people who care about you, the people who want to help you.”

Remy sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he listened to Vanessa’s words. “I know. I know I shouldn’t have… it just all came to a head. The drinkin’ helps me forget, but it ain’t enough to keep the nightmares away.”

Vanessa looked at him with concern, urging him to continue.

“Lately, I’ve been startin’ to remember things,” Remy confessed, his voice low and haunted. “My own timeline, the things I did to people… the hurt I caused. It’s all comin’ back, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I thought I could just drink it away, but it ain’t that simple.”

Vanessa’s gaze softened further, and she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “Remy, every single person in that room has done things they regret. You wouldn’t believe some of the things she’s had to come to terms with. If there’s anyone who knows how to forgive themselves, it’s her. But you’ve got to let her help you. You can’t do this on your own.”

Remy nodded, understanding the truth in her words but still struggling to fully accept it. “I had someone once… someone I loved more than anything,” he admitted, his voice tinged with sorrow. “Anna. She was the love of my life, but… things didn’t work out. Some things happened that I can’t-“ He swallowed deeply, his head down, “I thought I’d lost my chance at something good.”

Vanessa listened carefully, noticing the way Remy’s tone shifted when he talked about you. There was something different there, something that hinted at something he might not even fully recognize yet.

“You know,” Vanessa began gently, “sometimes life gives you a second chance. But you’ve got to be open to it. You’ve got to let yourself lean on people, let them in. That’s the only way you’ll ever move forward.”

Remy was silent for a moment, his thoughts racing. He hadn’t realized it until now, but there was something about you—something that drew him in, that made him want to be better. Maybe it was the way you never gave up on him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Or maybe it was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to admit even to himself. Maybe it was the reason why he was so angry at you; you refused to let him wallow in self-pity the way Anna did. Maybe it was the way you still kept trying even after being pushed away.

Vanessa smiled knowingly, seeing the conflict in his eyes. She didn’t push him, didn’t need to. Instead, she simply encouraged him to take that next step. “Come on,” she said softly, standing up and offering him her hand. “You’ve got some grovelling to do.”

Remy looked up at her, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I really appreciate this.”

She squeezed his hand gently, her smile warm and reassuring. “Whatever’s happening, let it. Sometimes good things do happen, Remy,” she said, her words carrying more meaning than he might realize.

<> <> <>

“This kitchen has seen some stuff over the years,” Wade remarked lightly, leaning against the counter as he watched you move to clean up the broken glass. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of concern behind his playful facade.

You crouched down, carefully gathering the shards with a small broom and dustpan. “Yeah, like that time with Hawkeye,” you said with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember that? We had to patch up the roof after that little escapade.”

Wade chuckled, shaking his head. “How could I forget? The roof’s still got that stain. Clint insisted it was just a ‘quirky reminder of our wild times,’ but I think it’s more like a badge of honour at this point.”

Vanessa and Remy reappeared, having taken a moment to let the tension settle. Vanessa’s expression was firm but sympathetic as she gave Wade a pointed look, a silent signal that it was time for him to make his exit.

Wade threw a casual wave over his shoulder, his usual irreverence masking his understanding. “Alright that’s our super secret signal to leave,” He places the dustpan on the counter “I’ll make sure not to do anything I wouldn’t do normally. Catch you later, folks,” he said, his voice carrying a mix of levity and concern.

Logan followed suit, offering a nod and a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’s my cue to leave too. Take care, alright?”

Vanessa approached you, her presence a calming contrast to the chaotic energy of the earlier argument. She gave you a comforting smile. “Everything will be okay,” she said softly, her voice soothing. “Just give it time. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice quiet but heartfelt. “I will.”

As Wade and Logan headed out, their voices fading into the night as they bantered about their plans, the kitchen fell into a deeper silence. It was the kind of quiet that settles after a storm, heavy and introspective. You stayed behind, focusing on the task at hand—sweeping up the remnants of the evening’s tension. The broken glass scattered across the floor seemed like a stark reminder of the argument that had cut too deep, its jagged edges reflecting the emotional sharpness of the night.

With each sweep of the broom, you could feel the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. The kitchen, once a hub of life and laughter, now felt like a sanctuary of calm after chaos, a place to collect your thoughts and regain your composure. As you worked, you reflected on the evening’s tumult and the silent promise to mend what had been broken—both the glass and the hurt feelings that lingered in the air.

The soft sound of footsteps approached, and you looked up to see Remy walking towards you. His expression was subdued, the usual cocky grin replaced by something softer, almost hesitant. Without a word, he crouched down beside you, reaching for the dustpan and broom. His movements were careful, as if he was afraid of causing more damage.

“I’m sorry ‘bout earlier,” Remy said, his voice low and sincere. He didn’t meet your eyes at first, focusing instead on sweeping up the shards of glass. “I shouldn’t’ve lashed out like that.”

You paused for a moment, taking in the vulnerability in his tone, the weight of whatever he was carrying. You gave him a small smile, hoping to ease some of the tension between you. “Don’t worry about it. Not everyone can be perfect like me.”

Remy’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he let out a short, almost reluctant laugh. “Yeah, right.” He shook his head, the brief moment of humour fading into something more serious. “But really, I’m sorry. I know I’ve been… difficult. And after everything you’ve done for me, you haven’t deserved it”.

You could hear the strain in his voice, the struggle to put into words the turmoil he was going through. It wasn’t just the argument earlier—it was everything. The confusion, the loss, the displacement. You knew he was trying to hold it all together, but the cracks were showing.

“It’s okay, honestly,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. The contact was brief, but it was enough to let him know you were there, that you understood. “You’re going through a lot. It’s not easy to deal with everything at once. Trust me, I get it better than a lot of people,”

He looked at you then, his red-on-black eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You don’t deserve to be caught up in my mess,” he murmured. “I’m just tryin’ to figure things out, but… it’s hard, chérie. Feels like everythin’ I knew is just… gone.”

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. “I have a friend; he woke up in a new time. Well. Not wake up exactly. Anyway, for years he struggled. He struggled with just existing. He started drinking or doing stupid things just to feel okay again. Eventually he got help. As far as I last heard he’s doing things legit and he lives in Brooklyn now, I think. I sometimes see him on the news,” you shook your head from your rambling, “My point is, is that everyone struggles. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you have someone to share that struggle with,” For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the silence between you no longer heavy with tension but filled with a quiet understanding. Finally, Remy broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost weary. “I’ll finish up here if you want to head to bed.”

You hesitated, not wanting to leave him alone just yet, but knowing he probably needed some space to process everything. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I got this. Go get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

You rose slowly, giving him one last look before you turned to leave the kitchen. As you reached the doorway, you glanced back at him. He was still crouched on the floor, focused on cleaning up the mess, but there was a determination in his movements, a sign that he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Goodnight, Remy,” you said softly.

“Goodnight, chérie,” he replied, his voice carrying a warmth that hadn’t been there earlier.

You loved the mornings.

Mornings were a time for solitude and reflection. You enjoyed the quiet moments alone with your thoughts, the calm before the world demanded your attention. You would stretch out, feeling the soft, cozy warmth of your bed, and savour the slow, deliberate process of waking up.

There was a comforting predictability to it all—the way your routine unfolded with a certain rhythm. You’d shuffle to the kitchen, make yourself a cup of coffee before making your way to the bathroom and getting yourself ready for the day. It was a simple pleasure, but one that brought a sense of peace and normalcy.

Every morning was a fresh start, a new beginning. The world was full of possibilities, and you loved how the morning light seemed to promise that anything was possible. It was a time for new plans, for dreaming about what the day could hold, and for setting the tone for the hours ahead.

That is, until the peace of your morning was abruptly shattered by the sound of rapid banging on your door.

Startled, you jolted awake, your heart racing as you scrambled out of bed. You had barely managed to untangle yourself from the mess of blankets before you were racing down the hallway, each step bringing you closer to the source of the loud banging. You threw open the door with a mix of irritation and confusion, only to come face-to-face with the last person you expected—or wanted—to see.

Wade Wilson stood on your doorstep, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. The early morning light bathed him in a halo of golden light, making his red suit and mask look almost surreal against the backdrop of your cozy home. His grin widened as he saw you, clearly enjoying the spectacle of your dishevelled state.

“Hey bestie. Long time no see,” Wade Wilson greeted, his grin stretching from ear to ear as if he had just won the lottery. “I would have called, but I don’t have your number—”

“For a good reason—” you cut him off, not in the mood for his usual antics or charm.

Wade barrelled on, seemingly oblivious to your interruption. “So, I thought I’d just pop in for a quick visit. You know, with all the timeline hopping and reality-bending shenanigans going on I thought you wouldn’t be feeling too great lately”.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Wade?” you demanded, stepping aside reluctantly to let him in. You had gotten used to unexpected visitors, but Wade was always a special case. Nobody ever showed up at your doorstep without a reason—and that reason was almost always something you’d rather avoid. Wade strutted into your living room with a flourish, his dramatic flair making the whole situation feel even more absurd. He turned back to the man standing behind him—a tall, brooding figure in a flannelette shirt and jeans. “And this is Logan. He’s from another timeline or something. Long story.”

You met his gaze, feeling a pang of recognition. You had already sensed something off about him, a subtle but unmistakable ripple in the fabric of reality. You knew he was from another timeline long before Wade even mentioned it. The moment Logan had been removed from his own timeline, you had felt it—a sharp disturbance that left you physically and emotionally drained.

It had been weeks since that incident, but the aftermath was still fresh in your memory. The impact of such a shift in reality had left you bedridden for almost a week, your body and mind struggling to recover from the strain of feeling multiple timelines collide.

You studied Logan with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. “I know. I felt it. It messed me up pretty bad. I was sick in bed for almost a week. Thanks guys” you sarcastically replied.

Logan’s eyes softened with a mix of understanding and surprise. “Didn’t realize it hit that hard.”

You shrugged, trying to downplay the severity of your experience. “Yeah well, next time you decide to start playing around with things you don’t understand give me a call first for a heads up.”

Wade, seemingly oblivious to the conversation, looked between the two of you with a puzzled expression. “So, can we get back to why I’m here? I need your help to get back into the void and rescue my friends. They’re stuck there, and I need to get them out before it’s too late.” You choked for a moment, “Excuse me? I don’t think I’ve woken up properly because I swore you just asked me for help to take you into the void?” Wade nodded enthusiastically, “Yep that pretty much sums it up. So, are you in? You know, like old times,” He flopped down on to the couch and crossed his legs on top of your small coffee table. “I’d much rather not, especially if it’s anything like the old times you just mentioned. Do you have any idea how much of a clusterfuck it will be if I take you guys to the void?” You stated incredulously. Another shrug left his shoulders, “But it will be a fun clusterfuck,” He pointed out. His feet fell of the table as he leaned forward, “Please. I don’t beg…unless there’s a collar around my neck, but I’m begging you now. Can you please use your super awesome powers to take me and metal wolf boy here to the void to rescue some really cool people,” The chaos of Wade’s arrival and the gravity of the situation were starting to weigh heavily on you. Your head felt like it was spinning with the implications of what they were asking.  It wasn’t even 8am yet and you could feel the headache already coming on.

Frustration churned in your chest, knotting your insides. It wasn’t just the surprise of Wade showing up unannounced—it was the audacity of his request. To risk your safety, your existence, just to help people you barely knew, felt like an enormous gamble.  You had your own life, your own safety to consider, and the TVA’s persistent surveillance was a constant, ever-present threat to that.

Wade’s pleading look and earnest expressions were impossible to ignore. You knew that he was sincere about his friends, but the potential consequences of aiding him were terrifying. You could vividly recall the aftermath of dealing with similar situations before—the physical and emotional exhaustion that had left you bedridden for weeks. It was a cruel irony that your unique abilities to travel through timelines made you a sought-after resource while simultaneously isolating you from a semblance of normalcy.

“You don’t get it, Wade,” you said, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempts to sound resolute. “Even if I wanted too, this isn’t just about wanting to save your friends. It’s about the TVA. They’re relentless. If they catch me, I’m not just risking a few days in bed. It’s much more severe than that.”

Wade’s eyes flashed with frustration. “I’ve dealt with the TVA before, and I’ve come out on top,” He turned to Logan, “Thanks for that by the way, this timeline you really came through for me,” He turned back to you, standing up and placing a hand on both of your shoulders, “I can’t do this alone. They’re counting on me. You can’t just shut me down like this.”

You shook your head, feeling a surge of anger mixed with a deep-seated fear. “You don’t understand the stakes. Every time I’ve had to deal with timeline issues, it’s taken a huge toll on me. It leaves me sick and vulnerable. I have the TVA ready to take my ass back there as their prisoner. You want me to walk into that mess willingly? No, Wade. Not happening.”

Wade’s face fell slightly as he removed his hands from your shoulders, but he quickly masked it with stubborn determination. “But you’re the best at this. I’ve seen what you can do. You can walk through universes and timelines like you’re walking through doors. There has to be a way you can do this without them finding out.”

You crossed your arms tightly, trying to stem the flood of conflicting emotions. “I’m not just saying no out of spite. Despite you still owing me one from the whole Francis debacle. The TVA doesn’t play fair. If I help you, I’m risking more than just my comfort—I’m risking my entire existence. Do you understand that? And for what? To pull people out of a void with no guarantee they even have a place to go. There will be no guarantee that taking them back to any timeline-even their own- won’t end up with us being completely fucked”.

Logan’s practical tone cut through the heated argument. “We have a plan,” He reassured, “We can tweak it to account for the TVA’s bullshit, but he’s right. There are good people there. People like us. People who don’t have a home. They risked their lives to save us. To bring us back here to this world. It’s time we repay the favour,” He swallowed deeply, “We need to repay the favour”.

You sighed heavily, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. The thought of possibly facing the TVA’s wrath was daunting, but so was the thought of leaving Wade and his friends in a risky situation. Your mind raced with the possibilities and the risks, trying to find a balance between what was right and what was safe.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from the doorway and headed towards the kitchen. The comforting ritual of making coffee provided a small solace amid the chaos. As you poured the dark liquid into your mug, the rich aroma filled the room, a grounding force against the whirlwind of emotions.

You leaned against the kitchen bench, cradling your mug as you took a moment to gather your thoughts. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the ceramic, a simple pleasure in the midst of a complex dilemma. Your gaze shifted to Wade and Logan, who were waiting expectantly, lingering near the fridge.

“Alright,” you said, your voice steadier now but still tinged with frustration. “Let’s say I decide to help. How do you expect to find these people in the void? It’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

Wade’s expression softened slightly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “I’ve got a lead on where they are. We need your ability to just kind of drop in on them in their little hidey hole. I know it’s risky, but it’s our best shot.”

You took a deep sip of your coffee, letting the warmth spread through you. The practical side of you was still grappling with the risks, but there was a part of you that couldn’t ignore the urgency and sincerity in Wade’s plea; “How do I know where their quote hidey hole unquote is? I’ve never been”. “I was kinda hoping you had a special something up your sleeve that could help us find them? Like a sniffer dog type thing?” Wade replied sheepishly. You rolled your eyes and took another sip, “Other than relying on something I have no idea if I can even do what’s next?” “We search,” Logan stated simply, “It’s a big place, might take us a while but what other option is there?” Wade scoffed, “Sheer fucking luck at this point”.

Leaning against the bench, you looked at them both, your resolve hardening despite the unease. “Fine. I’ll help. But we need a solid plan. And we need to make sure we’re prepared for whatever the TVA throws at us. I’m not going in blind.”

Wade’s face lit up and he started bounding up and down clapping his hands “Oh thank you, I promise you won’t regret it.” “God you’re an asshole,” You replied, walking into your kitchen.

As you leaned against the kitchen bench, the warmth of your coffee mug grounding you, you could see Wade and Logan watching you with varying degrees of curiosity and concern. The gravity of your past encounters with the TVA weighed heavily on your mind, and you knew you needed to explain the full context of why this situation was so risky for you.

Taking another sip of coffee to steady yourself, you began. “Alright, let me fill you in on why dealing with the TVA is such a big deal for me. I mentioned that the TVA has been keeping an eye on me, and that’s not just a casual oversight.”

Wade raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to curiosity “Oh I love a story. Do tell?”

You gave a scoff and an eyeroll and took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Remember the whole Wanda Maximoff and Doctor Strange incident? Westview? Wanda decided to jump through universes chasing someone who’s like me. Except this person was a kid. Doctor Strange asked for my help. I was part of a mission that messed with the timelines in a big way. The TVA wasn’t too pleased with the disruptions caused by our actions. As a result, they decided to put me in a special category.”

Logan, who had been quietly listening, frowned. “What kind of category?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the memories. “The TVA wanted to make me a ‘timeline anchor point.’ Basically, they wanted me to exist outside of the timelines, serving as a permanent anchor to keep things stable in case something like that happened again. It was their way of punishing me without pruning me entirely. The idea was to trap me in a sort of limbo where I couldn’t affect the timelines anymore.”

Wade’s eyes widened with understanding. “That sounds like a hell of a punishment.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it is. I had a demi-god vouch for me, someone who had clearly pull. Them and someone else. They argued on my behalf, convincing the TVA that I shouldn’t be used as an anchor. That it was too dangerous and unstable. So instead of being pruned or condemned to that limbo, I was allowed to continue my life—but with a constant surveillance and tight restrictions.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed with concern. “So, the TVA is keeping a close watch on you because of this?”

“Exactly,” you said, taking another sip of your coffee. “The TVA has me on a short leash because they’re still wary of my abilities and the potential disruptions I could cause. They’re waiting for me to slip up, and any significant deviation from their rules could result in either me never existing, or me existing too much.”

Wade’s expression softened with empathy. “That sounds rough. So, if the TVA finds out you’re helping us, it could mean a huge rod up your ass for you.”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s not just about risking my safety—it’s about risking everything I’ve worked to maintain. Helping you could draw their attention and put me in a position where they might finally decide to prune me or worse.”

Logan’s gaze was steady and understanding. “That explains why you’re so cautious. But it also means we need to be extra careful if we’re going to involve you in this mission.”

Wade looked between you and Logan, his earlier frustration giving way to a more considerate tone. “Alright, I get it now. We’ll make sure to keep everything as low-profile as possible. The last thing I want is for you to get caught up in TVA problems because of me.”

You gave a small, appreciative nod. “Thanks, Wade. I’m in this now, but I need to know that we’re taking every precaution. So come on, 1, I need to find something comfortable to sit on if I’m going to be listening to whatever shit you two come up with, and 2, I need to know that you guys aren’t about to make me once again regret helping you,” you laughed as you led the two men back into the living room. <><><><><><><>

The world blurred and twisted around you, colours blending into an unrecognizable swirl as you, Logan, and Wade were pulled through the fabric of reality. The transition was always rough, but this time, it felt like your insides were being wrung out and twisted into knots. You could feel it suffocating you.  When you finally hit solid ground, the disorientation was too much. You stumbled slightly as Wade and Logan let go of you, Wade doubling over to catch his breath and Logan looking over at you incredulously, “You do that all the time?” “It’s usually smoother,” You commented, feeling your stomach curdle and your head spin.

You landed in a dense, shadowy forest. The air was thick with an unnatural chill, the trees towered overhead, their twisted branches blocking out what little light there was. You stumbled to the side, barely able to brace yourself against a tree before you started to vomit, your body rebelling against the harshness of the journey.

Logan crouched beside you, his hand steadying your shoulder. “Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff, but with a hint of concern. “Breathe.”

You nodded weakly, trying to focus on the coolness of the earth beneath your hands and the solidity of the tree against your back, “I’m okay,” you said simply, trying to stand back up straight before shaking your head, “Nope. Not okay,” and vomiting again.

Before you could fully catch your breath, a sharp rustling of leaves broke through the oppressive silence. Logan stiffened beside you, his hand instinctively moving to his side where his claws were ready to spring.

Suddenly, Wade was yanked off his feet and slammed against a nearby tree. His eyes went wide in surprise as he found himself staring into the fierce, glowing eyes of Gambit.

“Who the hell are you?!” Gambit hissed, his voice low and dangerous. His grip on Wade’s collar was tight, his other hand sparking with kinetic energy, ready to release.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on there, Cajun!” Wade blurted out, raising his hands in mock surrender. “It’s me, Wade! Deadpool! The lovable mercenary? Chimichangas? Red suit? Cassandra? Remember?”

Gambit’s eyes narrowed, his mind still processing, but the recognition slowly dawned in his expression. The tension in his shoulders eased, and the energy in his hand fizzled out. He released Wade, letting him drop unceremoniously to the ground.

Wade, rubbing his neck, looked genuinely surprised. “Okay, wow, I mean, good to see you too, buddy! But damn, didn’t expect you to be so… jumpy.”

Gambit took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself. “Sorry, mon ami. Didn’t know it was you. Been on edge.”

Wade glanced over his shoulder, noticing you still slumped against the tree, looking pale and sickly. “Yeah, well, I’m not the only one who’s had a rough trip.” He nodded toward you. “This is our friend. She’s the reason we got here so fast.”

Gambit’s gaze followed Wade’s, softening as he saw your condition. He hesitated, unsure if he should approach, but Logan was already moving, crouching beside you and gently helping you to your feet.

“You okay?” Logan asked, his tone as gruff as ever, but his eyes held a rare concern. You nodded, though you still felt weak, leaning heavily on him for support.

“This is Gambit,” Wade continued, filling the silence with his usual chatter. “Remy LeBeau, master of cards and the coolest accent this side of the multiverse. Gambit, this is—”

You cut him off, managing a weak smile as you met Gambit’s eyes. “Nice to meet you, Gambit.”

“Likewise, chère,” Gambit replied, his voice softening as he took in your state. “Sorry ’bout the rough welcome.”

Logan helped you to your feet, keeping a steady arm around you as you leaned on him, your legs still shaky. The group started moving through the forest, the oppressive silence broken only by the rustle of leaves underfoot and the distant, unsettling sounds of the void around you.

As you walked, Gambit led the way, his eyes scanning the forest with a wariness that spoke of too many battles fought alone.

“They’re all gone,” Gambit finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. “Everyone… they didn’t make it.”

There was a pause, the realization sinking in, a mix of grief and grim acceptance. The void had taken more than just their friends—it had stolen the hope of rescue and reunion.

“I’m the last one left.” Gambit’s voice was steady, but the pain was clear. “Been holdin’ out here, tryin’ to find a way back… but it’s just me now.”

Logan’s grip on you tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loss. Wade, for once, didn’t have a joke ready, his usual bravado replaced by a sombre silence.

You looked at Gambit, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of the void pressing down on him. Despite your own physical weakness, you felt a surge of resolve. You weren’t just here to rescue a friend—you were here to pull him out of the darkness that had claimed so much already.

“We’ll get you out of here,” you said, your voice stronger than you felt. “All of us. Together.” You gave a small laugh “Well mostly me since I’m clearly carrying the weight of the team right now,” Gambit felt a ghost of a smile cross his face as Wade gave a sharp scoff. The forest grew denser as you continued, the darkness closing in around your small group. The silence was almost suffocating, broken only by the occasional crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Gambit led the way, his movements sure and practiced, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his gaze darted around, constantly on alert.

Logan kept his arm around you, his presence steady and grounding as you leaned on him for support. Wade followed close behind, for once uncharacteristically quiet, his mind clearly processing the gravity of the situation.

Gambit finally broke the silence, his voice low and weary. “After you two left… it all went to hell. We tried to hold out, tried to stick together, but if it wasn’t the others who killed us it was the void… it got to us. One by one, they fell. The ones who survived longer… they just disappeared, like they were swallowed up by the darkness.”

He paused; the memories clearly painful. “I don’t know how I made it. Maybe luck, maybe somethin’ else. But I couldn’t save any of ’em. I tried… but I was alone before I knew it.”

The weight of his words settled heavily over the group, the loss of his friends felt deeply by all of you. It was a grim reminder of the dangers you faced, and of the toll the void took on those who lingered too long.

“We’re lucky we found you,” Logan said gruffly, breaking the silence that followed Gambit’s words. “We’ll make sure you don’t end up like the others.”

Gambit nodded, but there was a haunted look in his eyes, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced he deserved to be saved.

As you trudged on, the oppressive atmosphere of the void pressing down on you, you remembered the other threat looming over you. You looked up at Logan and Wade, your voice raspy but firm. “We need to stay alert. The TVA… they could show up at any moment.”

Gambit glanced back at you, his brow furrowing. “Why would the TVA be after us? They usually don’t bother with folks like us, unless…”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you explained. “It’s because of me. I’ve pissed them off a few times in my time. The TVA doesn’t like that. I’m on probation with them.”

Wade chimed in, a bit of his usual humour returning. “Yeah, apparently we give the TVA major heartburn. And our little escapade here? It’s like spicy chili on top.”

Gambit absorbed this, his expression thoughtful. “So, they’ll be comin’ for us, huh? Guess that explains why you looked like you were runnin’ from somethin’.”

“They’re relentless,” you said, your voice strained. “They won’t stop until they’ve fixed whatever they think is broken. And right now, that’s us.”

Gambit stopped walking and turned to you, his gaze steady and intense. “Then we’ll be ready for ’em. But first, you need to get your strength back. If we’re gonna get out of here, you need to be in good shape.”

You nodded, appreciating his calm reassurance, but the thought of the TVA still gnawed at you, a persistent fear that wouldn’t easily be shaken.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, you finally arrived at the hideout—a small, makeshift shelter hidden within a grove of thick trees. It was basic, but it offered protection from the harshness of the void.

Gambit led the way inside, the dim light casting long shadows across the walls. “You can lay her down over here,” he said, gesturing to a rough, but stable, cot in the corner.

Logan helped you to the cot, easing you down carefully. The moment you lay back, a wave of exhaustion washed over you, the physical and emotional toll of the day catching up with you.

Gambit crouched beside you, his expression softer now. “You want somethin’ to drink? Water? Or… maybe somethin’ stronger?”

“Water’s fine,” you replied with a faint smile, knowing that anything stronger would likely just make you feel worse right now.

Gambit nodded and stood, moving over to a small, makeshift table where a few supplies were scattered. As he poured the water into a metal cup, you could see the care in his movements, the way he was trying to keep his mind occupied, to push away the darkness that had been haunting him.

Wade flopped down into a chair, his usual bravado slipping back into place. “So, this is home sweet home for now, huh? Gotta say, I’ve stayed in worse places.”

Logan remained standing, his eyes constantly scanning the room, as if expecting danger to burst through the walls at any moment. “We’ll rest here for a bit, but we can’t stay too long,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “We need to figure out our next move.”

Gambit returned with the cup of water, handing it to you with a small, encouraging smile. “Drink up, chère. You need to get your strength back. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

You took the cup, the cool water soothing your parched throat, and nodded gratefully. Despite the dire circumstances, there was a sense of comfort in being surrounded by your friends, in knowing that you weren’t facing this nightmare alone.

As the group settled in, the fear of the TVA still lingered in the back of your mind, but for now, you focused on the simple act of recovery, on the strength you would need to survive what was coming next. The hideout was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the flickering light from a single lantern cast an eerie glow. Gambit leaned against the rough-hewn table, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge as he looked at Logan and Wade. His expression was contemplative, his red-on-black eyes reflecting the flicker of light.

“So, why’d y’all come back for me?” Gambit asked, his voice thick with his Cajun accent, a lilt that made his words smooth but slightly edged with suspicion. “Ain’t like we know each other that well. Only met the one time.”

Logan glanced over at Wade before meeting Gambit’s gaze, his expression as stoic as ever. “You got us outta that hellhole last time,” he replied, his tone gruff but sincere. “Saved our lives. Least we could do was return the favor.”

Gambit tilted his head slightly, considering Logan’s words. “Ain’t too many folks who’d risk their necks for someone they barely know.”

Wade, ever the comedian, jumped in with a smirk. “Well, lucky for you, Cajun, we’re not just ‘any folks.’ We’re the kind that get attached. Like ticks. Or a bad rash. And now, you’re stuck with us, just like *she* is,” he said, gesturing toward you with a flourish.

You chuckled softly, the sound tinged with exhaustion as you leaned back against the cot. “Wade’s the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever known,” you remarked dryly. “So that’s not exactly a great thing.”

Gambit couldn’t help but grin at your banter, though it was clear there was still a heavy weight on his mind. He turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening. “You mentioned somethin’ ’bout the TVA chasin’ you. What got you mixed up in all this, chère? Don’t seem like the kinda trouble you’d go lookin’ for.”

You sighed, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you, but you pushed through it, knowing Gambit deserved an explanation. “It’s… complicated,” you began, your voice quieter now. “I have this ability to move between timelines and universes. It’s something I didn’t ask for, but it’s part of who I am. The TVA doesn’t like it when someone messes with the timeline, and I’ve done my fair share of that lately. They’ve been after me ever since.”

Gambit listened intently, his expression thoughtful. “Seems like you’ve been through more than your share of messes, chère. Can’t be easy, always lookin’ over your shoulder.”

“Even when I say I’m out,” you continued, a bitter edge to your voice, “I’m never truly out. The TVA doesn’t forget. They don’t forgive. It’s like being caught in a web you can’t escape.”

Wade, never one to miss an opportunity, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Aww, look at you two with your young love. So sweet. So tragic. So doomed.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s head snapped up, his senses on high alert. “Something’s outside,” he growled, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Gambit and Wade immediately tensed, their expressions hardening. “Stay here,” Logan said to you, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ll check it out.”

As Gambit, Wade, and Logan stepped out of the hideout, the oppressive atmosphere of the void seemed to thicken around them. The forest was eerily quiet, the only sounds the faint rustling of leaves and the distant calls of creatures that lurked just beyond the shadows. Logan’s senses were on high alert, his eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of movement.

Gambit kept his cards close at hand, the kinetic energy pulsing faintly beneath his fingertips. His red eyes flicked to Logan and Wade, a silent understanding passing between them. They might have only fought together once before, but in the void, survival had a way of forging bonds that ran deep.

“Got a bad feelin’ about this,” Gambit muttered, is accent thick as he glanced around the clearing.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one, Gumbo,” Logan growled, his voice low and tense. His claws slid out, the sound slicing through the quiet like a knife. “Stay sharp.”

Wade, ever the joker, was uncharacteristically quiet, though his hands were already hovering over his holstered guns. “So, who wants to place bets on how many TVA agents are about to show up and ruin our day?” he quipped, though his tone lacked its usual bravado.

As if on cue, the air seemed to shift, a ripple of energy that made the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. A moment later, figures began to emerge from the shadows, stepping out from the trees with military precision. They were dressed in the unmistakable uniforms of the TVA, their faces obscured by helmets that gave them a faceless, inhuman appearance.

The leader of the group stepped forward, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. “Surrender the anomaly,” he commanded, his words sharp and cutting through the tension like a blade. “We have no interest in a fight. Comply, and no harm will come to you.”

Gambit’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the cards in his hand. “You must be talkin’ to the wrong folks, mon ami,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “We ain’t in the habit of surrenderin’.”

Wade took a step forward, his usual bravado returning in full force. “Yeah, about that… Remember the last time we met? Pretty sure you guys are still down a fuckton of agents. We gonna do that again? ’Cause I’m game.”

The TVA leader didn’t respond, but the slight shift in his stance was all the answer they needed. In an instant, the clearing erupted into chaos.

Gambit was the first to move, his cards glowing with kinetic energy as he flung them toward the nearest agents. The cards exploded on impact, sending shockwaves through the ranks of the TVA, scattering them like leaves in the wind. The air crackled with energy, the explosions lighting up the darkness with bursts of violet light.

Logan followed suit, his claws gleaming as he charged into the fray with a feral snarl. He was a force of nature, slicing through the ranks of TVA agents with brutal efficiency. His movements were swift and precise, every strike calculated to take down as many opponents as possible. The agents fought back, but Logan’s healing factor kept him going, even as they tried to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.

Wade was a blur of motion, his guns spitting out bullets as he danced through the chaos with an almost reckless abandon. He laughed as he fought, a manic grin plastered on his face as he took down agent after agent. “Come on, guys! It’s just like old times! Don’t let them get the drop on you!”

Gambit moved with fluid grace, dodging attacks and retaliating with his charged cards and his bo staff, which he wielded with deadly precision. He fought with a controlled fury, his red eyes glowing with determination as he focused on taking down the agents who posed the biggest threat to his friends. But even as he fought, a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning—that the TVA had more up their sleeve.

In the midst of the battle, Gambit’s gaze flicked back toward the hideout, where he knew you were still inside, trying to recover. The thought of the TVA getting their hands on you—of them dragging you back into their clutches—spurred him on, pushing him to fight harder.

Logan, too, was fighting with a ferocity that came from more than just survival. He knew what the TVA could do, the kind of control they could exert over someone like you. He wasn’t about to let them take you without a fight. His claws tore through armour and flesh alike, leaving a trail of fallen agents in his wake.

As the battle raged on, it became clear that the TVA had underestimated their opponents. The agents began to falter, their ranks thinning as Gambit, Logan, and Wade systematically dismantled their forces. But just when it seemed like they might have the upper hand, reinforcements arrived—more agents stepping out of the shadows, their numbers seemingly endless.

Wade, panting slightly from the exertion, looked over at Gambit and Logan, his grin faltering slightly. “Okay, I’ll admit, this is getting a little too crowded for my liking. You guys think it’s time to hightail it out of here?”

Gambit nodded, his eyes scanning the tree line for any sign of you. “We need to get back to her,” he said urgently. “Ain’t no way we can hold off this many for long.”

Just then, your voice rang out from the hideout, strained but determined. “Wade! Logan! Gambit! Get your asses over here, now!”

The three men exchanged a quick glance before they fought their way back to you, each movement fuelled by the urgency of the situation. Wade covered their retreat, his guns blazing as he provided cover fire, while Logan and Gambit cut a path through the remaining agents.

When they reached you, you were already standing, though barely, your body trembling from the effort. But your eyes were fierce, your power thrumming just beneath the surface as you prepared to open a portal. You didn’t have much strength left, but you knew you had to get them out of there—back to your timeline, where you might have a chance to regroup and plan your next move.

As the portal began to form, the energy crackling around you like a storm, Wade and Logan grabbed onto you, steadying you as you focused all your remaining energy on the jump. Gambit reached out, his hand wrapping around yours as he gave you a reassuring nod. “We’re right behind you, chère. Let’s get the hell outta here.”

With a final, desperate push, you pulled all four of you through the portal, the world around you twisting and warping as you were yanked back to your timeline. The last thing you heard before everything went black was the distant sound of the TVA agents’ shouts, cut off as the portal closed behind you.

<> <> <> <>

The four of you landed with a jolt, the familiar surroundings of your home coming into focus as the disorientation of the jump faded. You barely had time to register the success of the jump before your body gave out, the strain of the battle and the portal taking its toll.

“Oh look, we made it. Go me,” you murmured weakly, a faint smile tugging at your lips before everything went dark.

Gambit caught you just in time, his arms wrapping around you as you slumped into unconsciousness. His expression was a mix of relief and concern as he looked over at Wade and Logan. “She’s out cold,” he said, his voice laced with worry.

Wade stepped forward, his usual humour tempered by the gravity of the situation. “No time to stand around gawking, Romeo. Let’s get her inside.”

Logan led the way, his claws retracting as he moved with purpose. “This way,” he grunted, heading toward your house. When they reached the front door, Gambit, still carrying you, kicked it open with a forceful shove, the door slamming against the wall.

Wade shook his head with a chuckle. “You know, she keeps a spare key in that hanging plant pot. That whole door-kicking thing? Totally unnecessary.”

Logan shot him a look, his voice low and serious. “She can complain about it when she wakes up.”

Gambit carried you to the couch, laying you down gently. He grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over you, tucking it around you with care. For a moment, he just stood there, watching the rise and fall of your chest, making sure you were still with them.

Wade and Logan stood nearby, giving him space but keeping a close eye on the situation. After a moment, Gambit turned to them, his expression conflicted. “Merci for gettin’ me outta there,” he said quietly. “But I don’t know if I belong here. Ain’t got nowhere to go, nothin’ left for me in this universe.”

Logan, always the pragmatist, motioned toward your unconscious form. “You’re family now,” he said simply. “And I’m sure she’d be more than happy to have you stay.”

Wade, never one to pass up a chance for a jab, grinned widely. “I feel the start of a fanfiction happening”.

Logan shot Wade a look but then nodded toward you. “We’ll talk about it when she wakes up,” he said, his tone serious. Then, after a brief pause, he added in a lower voice, “If she wakes up.”