#hcrctic

[ text, wanda. ] : i'm doing okay.

[ text, wanda. ] : what about you wanda?

" I don't think I've ever met any woman from GOTHAMike you, @hcrctic. "

He shouldn't have gone.

No, no, maybe the truth of it was that he shouldn't have come back. That would be easier, wouldn't it? He could have just stayed up there, up where no one knew him, no one needed him, no one ... well, that wasn't the problem, wasn't it?

It wasn't like there was anyone here for him at all.

This was his own damn fault. It was a joke, not quite a joke, but a ruse. A ploy between not-quite friends for a not-so-honorable reason. Not that you needed to be honorable when it came to annoying Erik. And as far as Logan knew, it had been working. They went out, they played things up, they let the word get around.

But they'd both known what it was from the beginning. Wanda wasn't the kind to lead him on, to decieve him. He'd agreed to this openly.

Knowingly.

But he didn't know, he didn't get it, didn't fucking understand that time spent with Wanda was dangerous. He had no doubt she was dangerous, but he liked that about her. Liked those jagged sharp edges. She was an enigma, something beautiful and broken and she could wound just as much as she needed to be held and fuck.

Fuck.

That's where it started. Because realizing these things, spending this time with her, going out for a fucking laugh turned into Logan wanting to hold her. Wanting to lay his hand on her thigh in that last bar, wanting everyone to know that she was his. His, his, his, and not anyone else's.

But that isn't how this worked.

So he left, left and vanished, and fucked off up north without a word or a message because it wasn't like he had anyone that he was really beholden to. Or, more accurately, that was beholden to him.

He didn't announce his departure. He didn't announce his return.

But why he was getting coffee in the Mansion's kitchen instead of through his own damn pot back at the cabin, well, that probably had to do with his masochistic tendencies. The mansion smelled of her, it had everyone else, too, but she was there, the soft spicy-sweet undercurrent of her.

She wasn't his. He wasn't hers. Logan didn't know which was worse, but he could soothe those ragged edges of himself with the memory of her, the memory of time spent with her, even if she wasn't something he could actually have.

🦻 ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ​🇫​​🇺​​🇱​​🇱​ ​🇧​​🇦​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇾​     — Clint’s eyes are soft and tired. There’s more creases on his face then when they first met. Costume is different too. But he’d know those eyes anywhere. ❝ Hey Witchie. ❞. He happy to see her. He wasn’t always. There were times he was pissed. But everything can be forgiven, especially as she stand in front of him.

Well, what are you waiting for?

​

"Just that."

He goes down to lift Wanda over his shoulder. Walking over to her bedroom to toss her on the bed. Making sure she landed nice and softly.

@hcrctic

    Oh no-es; someone must have discovered the fridge ...

or the garden, or the delivery guy with broken face or -- he paused, and his face mien immediately shifted on intensity.

   '' NO ONE'S HOME!! ''       What the f*ck!

@hcrctic doubled down 🂡 — ! ❝ remy, dear, why do i have your father in my dms? ❞