Hadley Stoddard — younger sibling of Susie Wolff. Being the complete opposite of her sister, she tries to find her way through life while having the worst opinion on Susie's husband Toto Wolff. But as the veil of the perfect power couple lifts off, Hadley gets to know the other side of the unapproachable older man.
Chapter summary: Sweet life full of love of our newlyweds.
Warnings: love, love and love
Word count: 1.1k
A/N: And that’s a wrap! Thanks to all of you, who interacted with me through this story. It was something new for me and I loved every part of it. Enjoy ❤️
—
October 2027
The weather was slowly catching an autumn vibe, the sun held more down, but still it was warm in its glow. Monaco was alive with its usual buzz, same as the couple of newlyweds – The Wolffs, who managed to buy a house up the hills, a luxurious mansion with many rooms.
Toto didn’t want them to live in his good but old apartment, he wanted something fresh for them and after many visits and discussions, they decided to buy this one.
Today was the day he allowed Hadley to start to settle in the house, all the packages with their things being scattered all over the place. Delivery of furniture was there already a week ago and she could finally give their safe haven a family touch.
“Toto!” Hadley called out for him through the empty space of the hallway of the house. He was down in the living room, unpacking the boxes. Rushing upstairs, he got to the master bedroom, where the bed was already placed along with the mattress and there she stood in front of the huge mirror in the corner. His face softened at the sight, he walked to stand behind her, taking in her figure in the reflection of the mirror. “What is it, liebling?”
Hadley had a wide grin plastered on her face when she grabbed his hand, placing it on her swollen belly. “It’s kicking.”
Toto felt the kick through the stretched skin of hers, shooting her look of awe. She was on the verge of crying, feeling all the possible emotions.
It wasn’t planned at all. On their honeymoon in May, they travelled through Australia, because that’s where Hadley always wanted to go and who was Toto to decline her. Many nights they spent tangled in the sheets and she was being careless about her birth control pill.
Watching the second line appearing on the pregnancy test, Hadley audibly gasped in shock. Susie stood beside her, with her little one resting on her hip, her eyes widened.
“Hadley. Oh my god.”
“Holy fucking shit.”
“I thought you just caught some virus from travelling. But it appears you caught a way more serious thing.” Susie chuckled, squeezing her sister’s arm in reassurance.
Hadley just stood there, holding the test in her hands as if it was some fragile thing. A baby. A Wolff baby.
“You know what it means?” she turned to look at Susie.
“That you’re gonna be a mom?”
“That our kids will be siblings.” Hadley smiled amused, trying to brush it off with a joke.
Susie put one to one and giggled. “Oh well, that’s right.”
“Toto, we need to talk.” she called him while he was on his way home from the race weekend.
“What– what happened, love?” a dread filled his mind, chest tightening as he was on his way into the private jet.
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Have a safe flight.”
His mind was filled with many possible scenarios of what’s going wrong. Toto was genuinely scared.
Practically fleeting through the entrance door of their apartment, he called for her only to find her in the kitchen.
Hadley fought her stupid smile, trying to act all serious. “Hello, Toto.”
Toto stood there, breath caught in his throat. “Hi, darling. So, what’s the matter?”
She pointed to the small box on the counter. “Open it.”
Cocking his brow, he huffed, but took a step forward, to open the box with his shaky hands. Quickly unwrapping the ribbon, he got the lid off, rummaging through the decorative paper. Then his movements stopped, his face turned pale and he almost fainted.
“Hadley–”
She was beside him immediately, her arm around his waist. “So?”
Holding a small pair of baby shoes in his hands, he couldn't contain his emotions and whimpered. “Hadley…”
“Mhm.” she hummed with the sweetest smile.
“We… I…You… We’re gonna be parents.” he whispered as if he was scared that this moment would be over.
“Yes. Me and you. And our baby. I know it wasn’t planned, but… it was meant to be.” She looked up at him, to read his expression.
His arms wrapped around her figure, bringing her the closest she could be to his chest, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
“I’m so happy. So, so, so happy. Oh my god, we’re gonna have a baby. There will be a mini you here.” he took her cheeks into his hands, smiling widely. Hadley swore that she never saw him this over himself. And it was the best thing she had ever seen.
Toto rubbed her belly more, he loved the feeling underneath his touch. Hadley leaned against his chest, grinning happily. Her pregnancy was full of bliss from the beginning. No nausea, crazy cravings or anything else. It was like a reward after all the trouble she endured with Toto.
“Come on, we need to work our asses off, your kids are gonna arrive for dinner.” she poked into his side and he chuckled with an eye roll.
“You’re my wife for a while and you’re commanding me already…” he muttered in a joke and she grabbed the pillow, throwing it at him.
“You love it, Torger.” Hadley giggled, that pillow hitting his head.
Toto inhaled sharply, shooting her a look full of feigned disapproval. “Young lady. You’re in for a punishment.”
“You can’t. I’m pregnant with your child, remember?” she batted her eyelashes innocently.
–
January 2028
The house was quiet at night, only a dim light was illuminating the hallway from the bedroom. After a long day, Toto came home, quietly stepping inside the room, only to find Hadley snuggled against her breastfeeding pillow, while their newborn son was sleeping soundly in the crib next to the bed.
He took his time to take in the core moment, his beautiful wife and his healthy boy being happy.
Toto couldn’t even imagine he’d be this happy in life ever again. With Hadley everything was different, she rewrote everything he knew about women. Without even trying, she made him a better man. Because he wanted to. For her.
Placing a soft kiss on the forehead of his newborn son, he turned his attention to Hadley, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. She stirred from her sleep, maternal instincts kicking in.
“Shhh… it’s okay, it’s just me, liebling.” Toto whispered, caressing her cheek. Hadley lifted her sleepy gaze at him, her lips curling in a content smile.
Her hand reached for his, closing around his fingers and holding onto him. Looking down, he took in the wedding band on her finger, flutters of joy filling his chest at the memory of their wedding. Closing the gap between them, he kissed her temple.
“I love you.”
“Always and forever.” Hadley mumbled, falling asleep again.
Welcome to a world of magic and myth. With shifters and vampires. Witches and sirens. And so much more than the human mind can comprehend.
Ao3 Series Link
Our Original Cast:
Ava Salazar
Shannon Lizt
Tessa Jackson
Rosie Hernandez
Mina Devi
Siobhan O'Connell
Maria Morales
Jenna Marks
Evie Morgan
Emilia "Minnie" Clark
Carrie Lee
Celia Kaye
Harmony Trace
Irini Mylona
Maya Schneider
Master List:
The Crone and the Siren (Dana Evans)
The Seer and the Sun (Trinity Santos)
The Fox and the Angel (Dennis Whitaker)
The Witch and the Dryad (Cassie McKay)
The Phoenix and the Firestarter (Frank Langdon)
The Vampire and the Artist (Michael Robinavitch)
The Wolf and the Witch (Jack Abbot)
The Vampire and the Succubus (Samira Mohan)
The Fae and the Empath (Melissa King)
The Demigod and the Witch (John Shen)
The Valkyrie and the Nereid (Emery Walsh)
The Valkyrie and the Demigod (Yolanda Garcia)
The Djinn and the Hellhound (Baran Al-Hashimi)
The Scientist and the Shark (Brendon Park)
All fics will be posted on Ao3 and timelines will be cross posted.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character
Series Summary: Set in the early seasons, Familiar Ground follows Dean Winchester as an unexpected reunion at Bobby Singer’s house brings Natalie Guimet—an old childhood friend and constant from his time there—back into his orbit. Told through interwoven past and present scenes, the story explores shared history, unspoken feelings, and the slow realization that some bonds don’t fade with time—they wait.
Word Count: 4,362
Tags/Warnings: demons, bargains, discussions of 18+ topics
A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!
Dividers: by @strangergraphics, @talesmaniac89
Chapter Nine: The Morning After
Dean looked down at her and felt his heart do something strange. Not race. Not leap. Simply... settle. Natalie was here. In his arms. In his room. In his bed.
The thought still felt improbable, like something he'd imagined too many times over the years and therefore could never quite believe when it became real. Yet there she was, hair a tangled mess from sleep, wearing his oversized Metallica shirt, looking at him with sleepy affection and quiet wonder.
Dean smiled. It was small at first. Then softer. Warmer.
Natalie saw it and felt her chest ache. Because she knew Dean's smiles. Knew the cocky grin he wore when hustling pool, the mischievous smirk that preceded bad decisions, the crooked half-smile he used to hide pain.
This one was different. This was joy. Uncomplicated. And that, more than anything, convinced her they were really doing this.
Dean lifted a hand to her face, brushing his thumb lightly along her cheek. He did it slowly, almost reverently, like he was still learning the contours of this new reality.
Natalie leaned into the touch instinctively.
Dean's expression softened even more. "Hey," he murmured.
"Hey."
The word was barely a breath between them. Then Dean leaned down and kissed her. Gently. Slowly. There was no urgency in it. No desperation. Just affection.
A quiet happiness that had nowhere else to go.
Natalie's eyes fluttered shut as she kissed him back, her hand coming to rest lightly against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm—steady and warm—and the simple reality of that nearly undid her.
Dean. Real. Alive. Choosing her. The kiss lingered. Not because either of them demanded more. But because neither of them was in a hurry to let the moment pass.
When they finally drew apart, they remained close, foreheads brushing lightly.
Dean smiled again.
Natalie laughed softly.
"What?" he asked.
"You look smug."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
Dean pretended to consider this. "Okay, maybe a little."
Natalie rolled her eyes fondly.
He grinned.
God.
She loved him. The thought came easily now. Not frightening. Not hidden. Just true. And judging from the look on Dean's face as he tucked her a little closer against him, she suspected he was thinking something very similar.
Neither of them said it. Not because they were afraid. Because there was no need to rush. They had years of friendship behind them. Hopefully years ahead.
There would be time. For bigger declarations. For harder conversations. For figuring out what loving each other looked like in a world filled with monsters and uncertainty.
This morning wasn't for that. This morning was for discovering that intimacy could be as simple as sunlight through curtains. As simple as shared laughter. As simple as waking up beside someone and realizing you didn't want to be anywhere else.
Dean rested his cheek lightly against the top of her head.
Natalie curled a little closer.
Outside, Bobby's truck started with a protesting roar.
A second later, his voice bellowed from downstairs. "If you two lovebirds are awake, coffee's on!"
Dean closed his eyes.
Natalie immediately started laughing.
"I hate him," Dean groaned.
"No you don't."
"No, I really do."
From downstairs: "And put some damn pants on, Dean!"
Dean's face dropped into the pillow.
Natalie laughed so hard she nearly fell off the bed.
The sound filled the room.
And Dean, despite himself, found himself laughing too.
Natalie laughed until tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
Dean, meanwhile, had buried his face in the pillow. "I am twenty-six years old," he announced to the mattress.
"And Bobby is determined to remind you of that every day."
"He is a menace."
"You love him."
"I love him in the same way people love natural disasters."
Natalie laughed again.
Dean rolled over dramatically, glaring up at the ceiling.
From downstairs came the unmistakable sound of Bobby moving pans around with entirely too much force.
The old man was making a point.
Dean groaned. "He is absolutely smirking right now."
"Oh, definitely."
"And Sam knows."
Natalie nodded solemnly. "Sam absolutely knows."
Dean closed his eyes. "This is the worst morning of my life."
Natalie looked around the room pointedly. "Interesting."
Dean cracked one eye open. "You know what I mean."
"I don't think I do."
He pointed at her. "You're enjoying this."
"A little."
"Traitor."
Natalie's smile softened. Because the truth was, she was enjoying this. Not Bobby's teasing.
Well.
Maybe a little.
But mostly this strange, ordinary morning. The easy banter. The sunlight filling the room. The fact that she'd fallen asleep in Dean's arms and woken up there too.
It felt absurdly precious.
Dean sat up finally, scrubbing a hand over his face. "All right."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "We gotta face them eventually."
Natalie groaned. "Do we?"
"Unfortunately."
He stood and stretched, shirt riding up slightly as he did.
Natalie very deliberately looked at the ceiling.
Dean caught it. His ears immediately turned pink. "Oh, come on."
"What?"
"You looked away!"
"I was being respectful."
"You were not."
"I absolutely was."
Dean laughed.
Natalie grinned.
The easy embarrassment of it surprised both of them. Because this was new. Not attraction. That had been simmering beneath the surface for years. But allowing themselves to notice it.
Allowing themselves to be shy. To flirt badly. To discover all the little awkwardnesses that came with changing the shape of a relationship.
Natalie climbed out of bed. The Metallica shirt fell nearly to her knees.
Dean looked at her. Looked away. Looked back.
Natalie immediately caught him. "Oh my God."
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
"I was not!"
"You absolutely were."
Dean groaned and pointed toward his dresser. "Get dressed."
Natalie burst out laughing. "You're blushing!"
"I hate this."
"No you don't."
Dean muttered something unintelligible while digging through his clothes.
Natalie found her jeans folded neatly over the chair she'd abandoned them on the night before.
The sight stopped her for a moment. There they were. Her clothes. In Dean's room. Because she'd slept here. Because they'd finally stopped pretending. The realization sent a warm little flutter through her chest.
Dean glanced over just in time to catch the expression on her face. His own softened immediately. Neither said anything. They didn't have to.
Natalie finished dressing and handed Dean back his shirt.
He took it. Then paused. "You can keep it."
She blinked. "The shirt?"
Dean shrugged, suddenly very interested in putting on his socks. "If you want."
Natalie's smile widened. "It's hideous."
"It is not."
"It absolutely is."
"It's classic."
"It's older than I am."
Dean gasped. "Rude."
Natalie laughed and folded the shirt carefully anyway.
Dean noticed. His smile was small. Private. Happy.
A moment later they stood by the bedroom door together. Neither reaching for the knob. Because downstairs waited Bobby. And Sam. And explanations. And whatever came next.
Dean glanced at Natalie. "You ready?"
She thought about it. About the Master. About Leandro. About the fear she'd carried for years. Then she looked at Dean. At the shy smile he was trying to hide. At the fact that he'd spent the night holding her. At the quiet certainty growing between them.
And she realized something.
For the first time in a very long time: she was.
Natalie smiled. "Yeah."
Dean smiled back. Then, without thinking too hard about it, he reached for her hand. And together, still chuckling about Bobby's disastrous timing and inevitable teasing, they headed downstairs to face the morning.
The disaster began the instant Dean and Natalie appeared at the top of the stairs.
Not because they'd done anything scandalous.
But because Bobby Singer looked up from the stove, saw Dean descend first with Natalie a step behind him, and immediately smirked so hard his mustache nearly disappeared into his beard.
Sam, seated at the table with a mug of coffee and an open lore book he clearly hadn't been reading, followed Bobby's gaze.
He blinked once.
Then slowly closed the book.
"Oh no," Dean said, stopping halfway down the stairs.
"Oh yes," Sam replied.
"We didn't—"
"Nope," Bobby interrupted. "Don't wanna hear it."
Dean looked offended. "You don't even know what I was gonna say!"
"I know exactly what you were gonna say."
Natalie, who had been feeling brave approximately thirty seconds ago, suddenly wished to return upstairs and perhaps out a window.
Dean pointed accusingly at both of them as he reached the bottom step. "We slept."
Bobby barked out a laugh. "That's what they all say."
"We did!"
"Sure."
Natalie threw up her hands. "Why is that so unbelievable?"
Bobby stared at her. Then at Dean. Then back at her. "You expect me to believe that after twenty years of pine-scented longin' and unresolved feelings, the two of you shared a bed and just slept?"
Dean sputtered.
"Natalie," Bobby continued, as though Dean hadn't spoken, "this boy kissed you stupid in my backyard last night."
Dean nearly choked. "I did not!"
"You absolutely did," Bobby said.
Natalie's face went scarlet.
Sam looked delighted.
Dean swung toward him. "You're not helping."
"I haven't even said anything yet."
"You closed your book!"
Sam lifted his coffee innocently. "I was preparing."
"For what?"
"For this."
Dean groaned.
Natalie covered her face.
Bobby pointed his spatula at them both. "Listen. I ain't judging."
"You are absolutely judging," Dean said.
"I'm judging your terrible lyin'."
"We're not lying!"
Bobby squinted at them.
Natalie dropped her hands. "It's true!"
Sam looked at Dean thoughtfully.
Dean didn't like that look.
"You know," Sam said slowly, "the fact that you're both so defensive makes me think—"
"Sam!"
"What?"
"You know what!"
Sam shrugged. "I just think it's interesting."
"It is not interesting!"
"It's a little interesting."
Dean groaned again and dropped into a chair.
Natalie sat beside him.
Which turned out to be a mistake.
Because Bobby noticed immediately. He pointed. "Look at that."
Natalie blinked. "What?"
"You sat next to him."
"I've sat next to him my whole life!"
"Not while blushin'."
"I am not blushing."
"You are."
"I'm not!"
Dean looked at her.
Natalie pointed at him. "Don't you dare."
Dean, the traitor, started laughing. "Oh my God," he wheezed. "You are blushing."
Natalie stared at him in betrayal. "You said we were in this together!"
"I lied."
"Dean Winchester!"
Sam looked like Christmas had come early.
Bobby abandoned all pretense of cooking and leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "So."
"No," Dean said immediately.
"What'd you talk about?"
"No."
"How awkward was it?"
"Bobby."
"Scale of one to ten?"
"Bobby!"
Natalie buried her face in her coffee mug.
This was somehow worse than fighting monsters. Much worse. Because at least monsters had weaknesses.
Bobby and Sam were feeding off each other.
Sam tilted his head. "Actually..."
Dean pointed. "No."
"You slept holding hands, didn't you?"
Dean froze.
Natalie froze.
Sam gasped. "Oh my God, you did."
"We did not!"
"You hesitated!"
"I did not hesitate!"
"You absolutely hesitated."
Dean looked to Bobby for support.
Bobby was crying. Not emotionally. From laughing too hard. "You two are killin' me."
"This is abuse."
"This is family."
"It's the same thing!"
Bobby wiped his eyes. "No, seriously."
Dean slumped lower in his chair.
Bobby's expression softened just slightly. Not much. But enough. "You happy, boy?"
The question came out gruff. Unexpectedly sincere.
Dean looked up. The teasing had vanished from Bobby's face. Just for a moment. Dean glanced at Natalie.
She was smiling at him. Not embarrassed anymore. Just... happy. The kind of happy that had frightened both of them for years. And now sat comfortably in his kitchen at Bobby's house, drinking coffee while being relentlessly bullied.
Dean smiled back. "Yeah," he admitted quietly.
Bobby nodded once.
Sam smiled too.
The moment lasted exactly two seconds. Then Bobby grinned. "Still don't believe you didn't fool around."
Dean dropped his forehead onto the table.
Natalie burst out laughing.
And Sam, ever the helpful younger brother, helpfully added: "Honestly, I'm with Bobby on this one."
Dean's muffled scream echoed through the house.
Dean lifted his head from the table just enough to glare at everyone present. "I hate this family."
Bobby snorted into his coffee. "No, you don't."
"I do."
"You don't."
Dean jabbed a finger at Sam. "He betrayed me."
"I asked one question."
"You interrogated me!"
"I asked if you held hands."
"You made it weird!"
Sam blinked innocently. "I wasn't aware holding hands was weird."
Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Because somehow, impossibly, holding hands had become weird. Not bad weird.
Just new weird.
Natalie was sitting beside him, nursing her coffee with both hands, trying valiantly to maintain some semblance of dignity. She failed. Spectacularly. Because every time she glanced at Dean, she remembered waking up in his arms.
And then she'd smile. And Bobby would see. And then Bobby would smirk. Which was exactly what happened now.
"There she goes again."
Natalie froze. "There who goes what?"
"That smile."
"What smile?"
"The one where you look at Dean like he's hung the moon."
Dean nearly inhaled his coffee.
Natalie stared at Bobby in abject horror. "I do not!"
"You do."
"I absolutely do not!"
Dean, traitor that he was, had the audacity to look pleased.
Natalie pointed at him. "You stop that."
"What?"
"That face."
"What face?"
"The smug one."
Dean grinned wider.
Sam looked delighted. "Oh, this is fascinating."
Natalie dropped her head into her hands. "Why did I come back to Sioux Falls?"
"Because you missed me," Bobby replied immediately.
"Not you."
"Liar."
Natalie laughed helplessly. God. She'd missed this. The noise. The teasing.
Bobby's kitchen smelling like coffee and bacon and slightly burned toast because Bobby refused to admit he couldn't multitask.
It struck her suddenly, painfully, how much she'd missed all of it. Three years. Three years she'd spent in Nova Scotia chasing ghosts and rumors and monsters wearing other monsters as masks. Three years she'd spent convincing herself she was alone.
And now—Dean was beside her. Sam across from her. Bobby bustling around the kitchen, pretending not to hover.
The realization hit hard enough that she quieted.
Bobby noticed first.
Of course he did.
The old hunter had always possessed an uncanny ability to sense shifts in mood, even if he pretended otherwise.
He set down his coffee. "Natalie."
She looked up.
"You okay?"
The teasing vanished instantly. Sam's smile softened. Dean turned fully toward her. The concern on his face was immediate.
Natalie swallowed. And smiled. "Yeah."
This time, she meant it. Not now. Not the fragile distinction she'd made the night before. Just... Yeah.
Bobby studied her for a moment. Then nodded. Satisfied. Mostly.
Dean wasn't satisfied. Dean was watching her closely now. Not suspiciously. Just... attentively. Like he was still adjusting to this new reality where he could worry openly.
Natalie noticed. And because she was apparently incapable of resisting him anymore, she reached beneath the table and nudged his knee with hers.
Dean looked over.
She smiled. A small smile. Just for him.
His expression softened instantly.
Sam saw the entire exchange. "Oh my God."
Dean groaned. "What now?"
"You guys are disgusting."
Natalie gasped. "Betrayal!"
"I'm serious!"
Sam pointed between them. "That."
"What?"
"The smiling."
"We've always smiled."
"Not like that."
Dean frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Sam waved vaguely. "You know."
"No."
"You know!"
Dean looked at Natalie.
Natalie looked at Dean.
Neither of them knew.
Sam groaned. "You have heart eyes."
Dean recoiled. "I have what?"
Bobby laughed so hard coffee nearly came out his nose.
Natalie looked scandalized. "Excuse me?"
"Heart eyes," Sam repeated.
"We do not!"
"You absolutely do."
Dean looked horrified.
Natalie looked equally horrified.
Bobby looked ecstatic. "I've waited twenty years for this."
"It has not been twenty years!"
"Feels like it."
Dean slumped.
Natalie laughed.
And somewhere in the middle of the chaos—in Bobby's triumphant gloating, Sam's relentless teasing, Dean's wounded dignity, and her own helpless amusement—Natalie realized something.
This. This was what she'd nearly died without ever having. Not just Dean. Though, God, him too. But this whole ridiculous, loud, loving family she'd stumbled into because Bobby Singer couldn't live with himself after Leandro died.
The Master had taken so much from her. Taken years. Taken certainty. Taken peace. But sitting here now, Dean's knee pressed lightly against hers beneath the table while Bobby argued with Sam over the proper way to cook bacon—Natalie found herself thinking: You're not taking this.
Not Bobby.
Not Sam.
Not Dean.
Not this happiness.
Whatever came next. Whatever the Master was. Whatever secrets still waited in Nova Scotia. She wouldn't face them alone. And for the first time since Missouri Moseley had shaken her head and told her Leandro wasn't at peace, Natalie Guimet felt hope.
Natalie was still smiling when the thought settled into place. Not all at once. Not like lightning. More like dawn. A slow certainty spreading through her chest, pushing back years of fear.
The Master had taken so much already.
It had taken certainty from her father. It had taken peace from her mother. It had taken three years of her life and nearly taken the rest of it on that cold floor in Nova Scotia.
But sitting here now, surrounded by Bobby's grumbling, Sam's teasing, and Dean's increasingly wounded protests about his alleged "heart eyes," Natalie suddenly realized something profound.
She was done letting fear dictate her choices.
Before she could overthink it, she reached across the small distance between their chairs and took Dean's hand. Not beneath the table. Not hidden.
Openly.
Dean blinked.
The kitchen was noisy one moment and strangely quiet the next.
Natalie's fingers laced through his. She squeezed gently.
Dean stared at their joined hands for half a heartbeat before looking up at her. He wasn't embarrassed exactly. Just surprised.
Because Natalie had always been affectionate in private. A shoulder bump. A hug after a hunt. Leaning against him while watching a movie. But this? In front of Bobby and Sam? Especially after twenty straight minutes of merciless teasing?
That was new.
Dean's expression softened immediately. "You okay?" he asked quietly.
The teasing in the room evaporated. Because she did seem different. Lighter. Not carefree. Natalie would never be carefree again after Nova Scotia. But something had shifted.
Natalie looked at him. Then at Bobby. At Sam. At this kitchen she'd grown up in. At the family she'd nearly convinced herself she didn't deserve anymore. And she smiled. "Yeah," she said softly.
Dean waited.
Natalie drew in a breath. "Because..." She looked down at their joined hands. Then back up. "The Master isn't taking this from me."
The words fell into the room and stayed there. Bobby stopped moving. Sam's smile faded. Dean went utterly still.
Natalie swallowed. Her voice wavered at first, then steadied. "I spent three years afraid."
Nobody interrupted.
"I was afraid of what happened to my dad. Afraid of what happened to my mom after she lost him. Afraid of loving someone and losing them." Her fingers tightened around Dean's. "I was afraid of you."
Dean's brows knit together.
"Not you," she corrected softly. "What loving you meant."
Dean's face softened.
Natalie looked down at the table. "I let that fear send me chasing answers." A humorless smile touched her lips. "And maybe I would've done that anyway."
Bobby grunted softly. "Maybe."
"But..." Natalie looked up again. "I came home."
The words carried more meaning than geography. She'd come home to Bobby. To Sam. To Dean. To herself. "And for the first time in years," she said, "I woke up this morning happy."
Dean swallowed hard.
Natalie smiled at him. "A little scared."
He huffed softly. "Same."
"A lot in love."
Dean blinked.
Sam's eyes widened.
Bobby immediately looked at the ceiling. "Oh, hell."
Natalie laughed softly. But she didn't take it back. "A lot in love," she repeated.
Dean looked like someone had knocked the wind out of him. Because she'd never said it. Not outright. Not until now. Not in Bobby's kitchen over coffee and bacon while Sam tried very hard to become invisible.
Dean stared at her. Then his mouth curved slowly. Wonderingly. Like he couldn't believe he'd heard right.
Natalie squeezed his hand again. "The Master doesn't get this," she said. Her voice was stronger now.
"It doesn't get Bobby." Bobby looked away.
"It doesn't get Sam." Sam ducked his head.
"And it doesn't get you." Dean's eyes never left hers. "It took enough."
The room was silent. Not awkward. Reverent. Because suddenly this wasn't just a conversation about monsters anymore. It was a declaration. A line in the sand.
Bobby cleared his throat roughly. Twice. Then he stood and turned back toward the stove. "Well," he grumbled. His voice was suspiciously thick. "If we're declaring war against extradimensional soul thieves over breakfast..." He flipped bacon a little harder than necessary. "...I'm making more coffee."
Sam smiled.
Dean laughed softly.
And Natalie—Natalie felt something inside her settle. The Master was powerful. Ancient. Patient. It stood outside Heaven and Hell. But it had made one terrible mistake.
It had let her go.
And in doing so, it had given Natalie Guimet the chance to come home.
This time, she intended to fight for it.
Bobby busied himself with the coffee pot for a moment longer than necessary.
It gave him time.
Time to recover from Natalie's declaration. Time to pretend the suspicious tightness in his chest was heartburn and not emotion. Time to reassemble himself into the gruff, practical hunter he preferred to be.
Behind him, Dean and Natalie were still holding hands. Openly. At his kitchen table. Bobby grimaced. The kids were growing up. It was offensive. He poured himself another cup of coffee.
Then, without turning around, he asked, "All right." The room quieted. "You've drawn your line in the sand."
Natalie smiled faintly.
Bobby pointed his mug vaguely in her direction. "So how do you propose we get more information on this thing?"
Natalie blinked. The shift in topic was abrupt enough to catch her off guard.
Bobby finally turned around. No teasing now. No jokes. Just the question. Because if Natalie was serious—and Bobby knew she was—then they needed to start thinking like hunters.
Natalie sat back in her chair. For a moment, she looked younger. Not physically. Just thoughtful. Thinking out loud. "We start with our sources."
Sam nodded immediately. "Missouri."
Natalie nodded. "Definitely Missouri."
Bobby grunted. "If she'll talk."
"She'll talk to me."
The confidence in Natalie's voice surprised him. Then again... Missouri had tried to protect her. That counted for something.
Sam leaned forward. "What about lore?"
"We hit everything," Natalie said. "Bobby's library. University archives if we have to. Every hunter journal we can get our hands on."
Dean looked skeptical. "You think anybody's written about something outside Heaven and Hell?"
"No," Natalie admitted. Then she smiled faintly. "But I think somebody's stumbled into it."
Bobby nodded slowly. That was hunter logic. No one discovered anything entirely new. Some poor idiot always got there first. Usually died horribly. But sometimes left notes.
Sam was already thinking ahead. "Other hunters."
"Maybe." Bobby looked unconvinced. "Most hunters would think we're nuts."
Dean shrugged. "We are nuts."
"Fair."
Natalie absently traced circles across the back of Dean's hand as she thought. Then she said quietly: "And then..." She hesitated.
The room stilled.
Bobby immediately became suspicious. "You got that look."
"What look?"
"The one that says I'm about to hate what comes outta your mouth."
Natalie sighed. "We branch out."
Dean frowned. "To who?"
Natalie looked at each of them in turn. "Supernatural sources."
The kitchen went silent.
Bobby closed his eyes. "Goddammit."
Dean sat upright. "You mean psychics?"
"Among others."
Sam looked intrigued.
Bobby looked ready to throw something. "No."
Natalie blinked. "What?"
"No."
"Bobby—"
"No."
"You don't even know who I mean!"
"I don't care."
Dean was grinning now. This was familiar territory. Bobby versus Natalie. The eternal struggle.
Natalie crossed her arms. "You taught me to follow evidence."
"I taught you not to be stupid."
"This isn't stupid."
"This is exactly stupid."
Sam, meanwhile, was looking thoughtful. "Actually..."
Bobby pointed at him. "You shut up."
Sam ignored him. "If this thing exists outside the normal cosmology..."
Bobby groaned.
"...then conventional hunter knowledge may not be enough."
Bobby groaned louder.
Dean snickered.
Natalie pointed triumphantly at Sam. "Thank you."
"I hate both of you."
Dean looked offended. "Only both?"
"Today."
Natalie laughed.
But Bobby wasn't entirely joking. He sat down heavily, coffee mug cradled in both hands. "Who are you thinking?" he asked reluctantly.
Natalie sobered. "Missouri."
"Fine."
"Maybe other psychics."
Bobby grimaced. "Ugh."
"People who deal with spirits."
"Less ugh."
She hesitated. Then: "Demons."
The silence was immediate. Absolute.
Dean's smile vanished.
Sam stared.
Bobby looked like she'd suggested summoning a hurricane into the living room. "Absolutely not."
Natalie raised both hands. "I know."
"No."
"I'm just saying—"
"No!"
"Bobby—"
"You are not making deals."
"I didn't say deals!"
"You said demons!"
Dean finally found his voice. "Nat..." His tone carried genuine concern.
Natalie looked at him. "I don't want to." The admission came quietly. "I really don't."
Dean relaxed a fraction.
"But," she continued, "the Master exists outside the normal rules." Her fingers tightened around his. "What if the things we hunt are scared of it too?"
That landed.
Sam sat back.
Bobby frowned.
Because... that was an interesting question.
Dean hated that it was an interesting question.
Natalie looked around the table. "We don't know who knows something." Her voice softened. "But I know one thing."
Everyone looked at her.
"I am not spending another three years chasing this alone."
Dean squeezed her hand. "You won't."
Bobby nodded. "Damn right."
Sam smiled.
And just like that, the mood in the kitchen changed. Not lighter. But purposeful. The Master was no longer a ghost story Natalie carried alone. It had become a hunt. And if there was one thing the Singer-Winchester family knew how to do: it was hunt monsters.
Even the impossible ones.
Tag List: @kmc1989, @ozwriterchick, @mandee7, @deans-baby-momma, @foxyjwls007
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Relationships: Wade Wilson/Original Character, Wade Wilson & Original Character, Logan | Worst Wolverine & Original Character, Logan | Worst Wolverine/Original Character, Logan | Worst Wolverine/Original Character/Wade Wilson
Characters: Logan | Worst Wolverine, Wade Wilson, Dogpool | Mary Puppins, Original Character, B-15, others may be added
Tags: Time skips, Post Deadpool 3: Deadpool and Wolverine, canon divergence, Omegaverse adjacent, Established Relationship, lgbt+ original character, AFAB Original character, Polyamory, ethical non-monogamy, Soft Wade Wilson, Soft Logan, Alpha Logan | Worst Wolverine, Omega Original Character, Mutant Original Character, Heats, Wade Wilson Loves Original Character, Original Character Loves Wade Wilson, Wade Wilson Loves Logan | Worst Wolverine, Logan | Worst Wolverine Loves Original Character, Slow Burn-ish, Logan | Worst Wolverine Loves Wade Wilson, Domestic Fluff and Smut, Feral Logan | Worst Wolverine, Animalistic Logan | Worst Wolverine, Self-employed Original Character, discussions of non-descriptive violence, Artistic Logan | Worst Wolverine, intersex omega, dual sex omega, Original Character Has Mental Health Issues, Wade Wilson Has Mental Health Issues, Wade Wilson Has PTSD, Logan | Worst Wolverine Has PTSD, Logan | Worst Wolverine Has Mental Health Issues, Logan | Worst Wolverine and Wade Wilson Work for the TVA, Daddy kink, Non-traditional alpha/beta/omega dynamics, falling in love, penis in vagina sex, heterosexual sex, other tags to be added
Summary: Being Wade’s roommate and partner for several years can be loud and chaotic or calm and wholesome. When Wade shows up with a Wolverine (and an ugly-cute dog) from another universe, life is bound to be more interesting.
A/N: please mind the tags
Read on Ao3
Chapter 1
When Wade came home with the Wolverine, it didn’t truly shock Goslyn but that’s how they acted since it was obvious that was what Wade expected. Goslyn didn’t really care. Finding out he is an alternate universe Wolverine doesn’t surprise them. They were more curious about the AU Wolverine than anything and Wade absolutely loved their universe’s Wolverine, so why not?
When Wade informed his partner that he invited Logan to live with them, Goslyn rolled with it. It’s the fucking Wolverine. Why not? So, it was up to them to give boundaries.
After dinner, they set down ground rules for living with them and Logan easily agreed, finding them common sense more than anything. Goslyn advised roommate expectations which is a laminated legal-sized paper with daily and weekly tasks that are assigned in a rotating schedule each to all who live there. Logan was glad that he could help out while Wade worked with the TVA to figure out Logan’s identity and finances in this universe.
Logan was given a room of his own. Goslyn gave him a set of travel size toiletries for the night. He was thankful and wiped up. Wade had laid out clothes in the bathroom, lending his biggest clothes that he had for Logan to sleep in and wear.
They were a bit tight but comfortable otherwise. Goslyn giggled at Logan coming out in a Hello Kitty shirt.
Wade remained still, tensing slightly as he saw Logan in his clothes and mentally wolf whistled while keeping his face neutral.
“Wade, you ass; give the man one of your hoodies,” they chuckled while looking at Logan.
Wade was plastered to Goslyn’s side on the couch as they rubbed his bald scalp, whined lowly and got up, heading into their shared bedroom.
“He does that sometimes,” Goslyn explained sympathetically about their boyfriend. “Wade is a big flirt with a big heart; he doesn’t think he is a good person but he is. He cares deeply for all his friends and loved ones. You moving in means you are too now. Be careful with him and he will be careful with you. Just ask and he will give you the world.” Goslyn smiled at Logan. Logan was shocked at the vulnerability and sincerity Goslyn spoke. Needing to process it, he gave a single nod and remained silent. Goslyn walked over to him, stood on their tip toes and gave a quick peck to Logan’s cheek. “Thanks, peanut.” They quickly returned to their seat on the couch as if nothing happened.
Wade came out and handed Logan a navy blue, baggie hoodie before heading back to the couch and cuddling back up to Goslyn who didn’t fight when Wade picked them up to set them on his lap. Logan saw Goslyn quietly smile before pecking a few quick kisses to Wade’s cheek as he wrapped his arms around their smaller frame and buried his face in their dark strawberry blonde hair. They return to rubbing Wade’s scalp, wrapped their a around his shoulder and continued to read their book.
Logan took off the shirt, tossing it at Wade with a smirk before putting on the hoodie. He noticed Goslyn’s face turning pink. Wade sputtered with a pout, grabbing the shirt off of him before directly ogling Logan’s fat tits and covering Goslyn’s eyes. Logan rolled his eyes at them. Goslyn snorted and pushed Wade’s hand out of the way. “No fair. Why can I see the hot shirtless guy?”
Wade glares at them. “He isn’t just a hot shirtless guy, baby. He’s got his man tits all out. No one can ignore their glory.” Goslyn busted out laughing at Wade’s poetic compliment of Logan’s pecs. Logan hoped to hide his heated cheeks due to the strong worded praise.
Once Goslyn could calm down enough, rubbing their nose against Wade’s before addressing Logan. “Logan, the bed is made up in the other room with fresh sheets and a blanket. If anything smells or feels weird, let me know. I’ll see what I can do,” they informed him, trying to find something else so the boys don’t end up fighting.
“I’m sure it’s fine, darlin’,” he thanked. “Though I think I am gonna hit the sack.”
“Ok, honey badger. Sleep well and don’t let the bed bugs bite!” Wade called as Logan walked to the bedroom, ignoring Wade. “There are no actual bed bugs!” Goslyn made sure to add.
Goslyn giggled and smacked Wade’s bare arm. “You dork.” Lean f forward and rubbing their nose against his. “I missed you.”
Wade rubs his nose back against theirs. “I missed you too, Gossie-bug.” Goslyn giggles at the nickname.
In the middle of the night, Goslyn awakens to rapid breathing, high pitched whines, and hesitant grunts. They looked around their room, checking on Wade first. He does have nightmares but not as often as he used to. They hear a stuttered inhale, and get out of bed towards the noise. Walking out of the room, they head over to Logan’s and listen at his closed door.
“N-no,” Logan whispers as if in pain. Goslyn being Goslyn walks through Logan’s door, not wanting to disturb Logan, and makes sure they remain invisible. Slowly, they approach him, making sure he is not injured somehow. As far as they can tell, he isn’t. They corporealize and touch his arm, shaking it weakly. “Logan?” They whisper.
All they get from him is more grunts and hitched breathing. They lean over him, able to see him clearly in the dark. He is covered in sweat and trembling. They can smell the bitter, acrid scent of fear in his sweat. “Poor baby,” they quietly coo.
Petting his hair, they lean down. “Logan, it’s just a bad dream sweetheart. Wake up.” When their other hand rests on his left shoulder, he immediately sits up,
still between sleep and awake. His claws come out and he yells, punching them into Goslyn’s chest with a grunt. After a few more seconds, Logan realizes what he’s done and retracts them, tears falling down his face freely. “I’m- ‘m sorry”
Goslyn tries to comfort him, petting his hair, “I’m fine, Logan. Really. They’re just clothes.” They cup his cheeks, bending down slightly to meet his gaze and place a lingering kiss on his forehead.
Logan examines their chest and sniffs the air. No smell of blood means no injury. “How?” His sleep-rough voice rasps in question.
“I’m…a shadow…and light,” they explain as if that answers everything.
Logan scowls with a raised brow and deep furrow between his brows. They giggle. They look at the lamp, reach out their hand towards it and take the lamplight into their hand. Closing their fist, the room falls back to darkness. The darkness around them comes alive and Goslyn disappears from the bed.
“Where’d you go?” Logan inquired, looking around the room.
“Darkness is just the absence of light, sweetie,” Goslyn apprised but their voice seems to be coming from all around him. “And I can make darkness and light whatever I want them to be.”
“Oh,” Logan exhaled, beginning to understand.
Goslyn walked out of a dark corner with a smile towards the bed and “took out” a broadsword. They held it out to him with both hands. “It has the same properties and more as a regular broadsword.” Logan took the weapon, examining it. It doesn’t have a smell but he can feel its weight and its sharp.
“Try with your claws,” Goslyn encouraged. Logan frowned at them. “Go on.” He protracted his claws and swiped at the blade of the sword. They easily went through causing the blade to fall apart and disappear, returning to darkness.
“I can do a lot with it. I can go anywhere there are shadows and darkness. I’m still getting the hang of light. I should be able to do the same with light but it’s hit or miss right now.”
They snapped their fingers and the lamplight returned. Logan looks at the lampshade seeing the brightness from within with wide eyes. After a few seconds of silence, Goslyn walks around the bed and crawls in on the other side under the blanket.
“What are you doing?” Logan queries, feeling uneasy.
Goslyn paused their movements. “I’m getting in to cuddle you to help you get back to sleep, silly. Is that okay?”
“Won’t Wade be mad that his girl is in bed with another man?” Logan questioned, brow raised and scowling at them.
“No, he won’t. And for the record, my pronouns are they/them, but Wade does call me his girlfriend in addition to his partner,” they apprised. Scooting closer, Goslyn put their hand on his bicep. “Now, I’m my own person as Wade is his own. We trust each other. I need you to trust Wade and me to know what is and isn’t ok with our relationship. Can you do that?” Goslyn leaned forward with their brows raised high.
“Y-yeah, I can,” Logan agreed, the tension easing some from his shoulders.
Goslyn smiled and continued to move on the bed, next to him. “Scoot down a bit for me, sweetie,” they gently commanded when next to him, wanting to hold him. Logan wiggled down a bit as Goslyn wrapped their arms around him, directing his head on their shoulder. They began to card their fingers in his hair and their other hand carding through his thick chest hair. “You’re very soft,” Goslyn observed with a smile. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Thanks.” Logan held himself, worried about his weight being too much.
After a minute and Logan not relaxing, Goslyn quietly commented, “I’m stronger than I look, Logan. Your adamantium-plated skeleton isn’t going to be an issue for me. Please try to relax. I’m happy to give you a back massage if that would help more.”
“I’ll, uh, try,” he slowly agreed. He scooted a bit closer to them, fully turned on his side and laid his head on their right breast. He laid his arm across their waist and made himself relax. Goslyn placed a kiss into his hair before snapping their fingers and the lamplight went out.
“Wade will be jealous of me because I got to snuggle up with you and he didn’t,” they informed cheekily. LWe’re both very touch-oriented people. It isn’t personal. It’s just one of the ways we show our affection towards our friends and family,” they educated.
“Ok,” Logan quietly accepted, filing it away for later; certain it will come back to bite him in the ass.
It sort of did the next morning.
Wade woke up the next morning to a cold, empty bed and frowning. “Goslyn?” He questioned sleepily out loud. Getting out of bed, he went to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions before continuing his search. He looked into the kitchen, living room, their office, and finally in Logan’s room.
Slowly opening Logan’s bedroom door, he sees Logan and Goslyn entangled. Wade gasps dramatically, hand on his chest. Logan jerks awake at the noise. His motion disturbs Goslyn who begins to awaken. “How dare you cuddle up with the Wolverine before me?” He pointed an accusing finger at Goslyn. Logan surprised Wade was upset at them and not him. Goslyn was right.
Goslyn quirked a sleepy brow and looked extremely unamused. Sighing heavily, they whispered in Logan’s ear. “You’re gonna have to give him a hug or something to get him to shut up.”
“No,” Logan quietly informed, still hesitant to come between them. Goslyn frowns and grunts with a displeased huff at his refusal. “Please?”
“No,” Logan stated matter-of-factly.
What Logan didn’t say is he takes a while to warm up to physical affection and he was not there yet. Women were easier to accept physical affection from than men for him.
They roll their eyes and sit up to deal with their boyfriend. “He had a nightmare, mister potato head,” Goslyn pouted, rubbing an eye.
Logan snorted at the endearment from Goslyn to Wade before getting a smack in the back his head from them that actually moved his head.
Before Wade could say anything else, Goslyn continued. “Logan is our friend and roommate. I did what I do for you and Dopinder and Peter and Ness whenever they spend the night. I’m not going to treat him any differently.” Wade pouted, pushing his lower lip out at them, leaning in the doorframe in the Hello Kitty t-shirt Logan had worn and now with matching booty shorts.
“Would some kisses help you feel better?” Goslyn softly proposes.
Wade pretends to think about it, looking away and tapping his cheek. “No,” he pouts his denial.
“Then I’m going back to sleep because that’s all I got right now. It’s too early,” Goslyn complains and lays back down next to Logan. They cuddle up against him and close their eyes.
“Hey, Darkness! It’s 7:30 in the morning.” Wade points at the window which is black. “You’ve stolen the light again, sleepy bunloaf,“ Wade pointed out.
Opening their eyes, they sit back up and purse their lips at him in thought. Keeping eye contact as if having a staring contest. A sudden knowing smile appears on their round feminine face. “Go walk your dog, Papa,” Goslyn commands just in time for Mary Puppins to bark, woken by the commotion. They duck down to hide their giggle against Logan’s bicep.
“You got me this time, coppah,” Wade submits with a cheesy 1940’s mob-like voice before turning around and picking up Mary to play with her.
Logan can feel their grin against his arm and looks over at them with a raised brow. They don’t see him but snicker suddenly. “He’s so funny.”
Ah, Logan thinks to himself. His humor. Laughter is a good medicine for many things. He shifts slightly towards them, drawing their attention to look up at him. They inform, “I’m gonna go back to sleep. Cuddle some more?”
Logan smiles and nods. He sees their dynamic is, surprisingly, healthy and honest if this argument (?) is anything to go by.
“Sure,” he easily agrees. Goslyn smiles. “I’m the big spoon. Roll over, peanut.” That’s the first time they’ve called him the same endearment as Wade. Oh, boy. He obliges and feels Goslyn scoot up, their head on his pillow. They push an arm under his arm, wrapping around his pecs letting their hand lay loose. They throw a leg over his hip, causing him to chuckle. He settles back and relaxes a bit back on them. “There we go. All comfy,” they state matter-of-factly. “You good?” They ask.
“Yeah,” Logan advises. “All good.” Goslyn squeezes him before relaxing against him.
Goslyn falls back asleep while Logan remains awake. After their breath evens out, body fully relaxed, and remains for a few minutes, Logan carefully rolls over, keeping Goslyn’s arm wrapped around him, enjoying the comfort and safety. He feels a bit overwhelmed at their easy affection and reminding Wade of such. Wade didn’t yell or attack him. He just accepted Goslyn’s words and reminded him of past actions. It was strange to see—was it a fight? They easily resolved it without much issue. Goslyn even tried to offer him some affection. He chuckles quietly at Wade’s reaction to their offer. Logan knows he would have easily taken it.
He looks over Goslyn’s face, seeing subtle laugh lines, brown freckles covering their whole face, brown eyelashes, and pale pink lips. Their face is round, hair falling in their face. Wade is very lucky to have such a kind, compassionate, and beautiful partner.
He inhales deeply, smelling their sweet, warm woodsy scent with hints of flora and their own natural musk. It reminded him of omegas from his universe but omegas don’t exist here, right? Wade’s peculiar scent was on them too—leather, gun oil, hints of lily, and a sickly sweet. Weirdly, they seem to compliment each other. He could smell his own scent on them but nowhere near as strong. His alpha wanted him to scent mark the omega but Logan chose not to, worried that could be offensive. He relaxed, watching them sleep for a while eventually dozing himself.
Summary: When a mission leads the Thunderbolts to a silent facility with only one survivor the balance within the team begins to shift. As tension rises and bonds are tested, the team must confront not only what she is… but what she awakens in each of them.
Pairing: Eventual Bob Reynolds x OC x John Walker, Bob Reynolds x OC; John Walker x OC
Word Count: 2,434
Previous
John hadn’t taken his boots off. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers locked so tight his knuckles had turned white. His skin still tingled, like his veins were wired wrong. Like the echo of that moment was still reverberating inside him, trying to replay itself in every heartbeat.
He hadn’t told anyone. Couldn’t. What would he even say?
Yeah, I found her hiding in the dark, terrified, lit up like a live fuse. She looked at me, and suddenly my whole damn body forgot how to think. I just… touched her. And then I couldn’t stop.
John clenched his jaw. Hard. The memory bit down on him.
He wasn’t that guy. He’d spent a lot of time proving he wasn’t., Even when things got violent, it had always been about control, his control. Discipline. Strength. But whatever the hell had happened down there, it hadn’t been strength. It had been… something else. Primal. Instinctual. Out of his hands from the second it started.
And God help him, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The way she’d looked at him. Like she’d seen something in him. Like she’d known exactly what he needed.
That soft, dazed touch to his face. Her breath hitched. The way her whole body arched toward him like it was meant to fit there. She was drugged. Wired. Still amped from whatever the hell they did to her.
And you touched her like she was yours to take.
His hands curled tighter.
You didn’t take anything, he told himself. You stopped. She passed out. You pulled away.
The energy, whatever it was, had exploded out of her, tossed him like a ragdoll, and burned the breath from his lungs. He’d come to on the concrete, coughing blood, heart pounding like he’d run five miles. And there was only one thing he could think of.
Where is she? Is she breathing? Did I hurt her?
That was the worst part. Not the energy. Not the burn. The fear that whatever he was, whatever part of him that lit up when she touched him, might’ve broken her.
He hadn’t even asked her name. Now she was up in medbay. And he was sitting down here, heart still hammering, wondering what it meant that he wanted to go see her. That he wanted to feel it again. The weight. The pull. The way she’d made him forget all the noise.
You’re not that guy, he reminded himself again.
But when he finally lay down, boots still on, fists clenched tight… he dreamed of her fingers again. Reaching for him like he was the only thing that could steady the storm.
“So… nobody saw the EMP coming?” Bucky asked
“The blast destroyed every bit of electronics within two miles,” Ava said.
“That’s not the kind of failure you get from a generator hiccup. Something killed the lights and everyone inside, but left one girl breathing.” Yelena huffed.
“Yeah. Her,” John said tightly. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. He hadn’t since they got back. His jaw kept clenching as he tried to avoid the things he was feeling.
“And you found her alone?” Ava asked.
“Yeah. Hiding in the sublevel supply crawl space. She… passed out when I tried to get her out.,” he said carefully.
“Passed out. Just like that?” Yelena’s brow pinched in obvious skepticism. John shrugged with too much force.
“You weren’t there. She was crashing hard from something. Sedatives, maybe. She was barely conscious.”
“Any idea why she was there?”
“Her energy signature was off the charts. I couldn’t get near her without feeling like I was going to phase out. Whatever she was doing there… someone was trying to build something. Or contain it.” Ava said quietly.
Yelena flipped through the thin paper file in front of her.
“Those scientists didn’t just stumble into this. Somebody paid for it,” Bucky said certainly.
“Someone high up,” Yelena said quietly. They all knew who she meant. Valentina.
“Alright, until we know more, she stays locked down. No interviews. No transfers. No exposure. She’s not a prisoner, but she’s not clear to leave either,” Bucky said rubbing his hand down his face.
“What if she wakes up and is hostile?” Ava asked seriously.
“We’ll deal with that then. The guard rotates every six hours. She’s never alone. Not even for five minutes.” Bucky said as he looked directly at John. “You’re on first watch.”
John nodded stiffly as his eyes flickered toward the table edge. “Yeah. Fine.”
“If she wakes up and panics… we need someone soft, not just armed,” Yelena said as an afterthought.
“That’s you?” Ava teased.
“I’ve babysat bombs before.” Yelena tossed back at her. Bucky raised his hand to calm the group.
“You three rotate. Eyes on her until we figure out what they did to her and what the hell she did to that building.” The room fell silent.
The room was dim but calm. Soft beeping from vitals. A cold fluorescent hum. The world felt paused. Ava wassitting in a rolling chair, boots propped up against the wall. She was chewing something, gum or maybe a toothpick, and scrolling through her phone.
“You lost again, or just sleepwalking?” She asks without looking up at Bob. Bob doesn't look at her. His eyes stay on the girl, a young woman, still unconscious, hooked up to a monitor. Her wrists were free, but the cuffs lay on the counter like a quiet warning.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted a break.” He says nervously. Ava eyes him. Shrugs.
“Fine. But just for fifteen. You’re not babysitting, you’re just the warm body by the bed.” She said as she stood and slung her jacket back over her shoulders. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t touch anything. If she twitches, call it in.”
“Right.”
There is silence after Ava leaves. Bob stands still for a long minute, then sinks into the chair, arms crossed. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest.
She jolts suddenly, gasping for air and coughing. Bob’s on his feet in a second, startled.
Her fingers curled against the sheets, and her eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. The monitor beeps from an unseen surge. She yanked herself upright so fast the IV line jerked, and Bob instinctively moved forward to soothe her.
“Hey, hey! It’s okay! You're safe, you're not in danger.” He said quickly holding his hands up.
“Where am I? Where- who-?” Her panicked questions tumble from her lips faster than she can think.
“My name’s Bob. You’re in a medical bay. With people who are trying to help you. You were unconscious. We took you out of the facility. What’s your name?”
“Lily,” she says like she is uncertain. “What facility?” She’s breathing fast, looking around, defensive. She’s scared. Her hands are already pressing back against the mattress, ready to push off, ready to run.
“We found you alone. Do you remember anything?” He’s trying to keep calm for her, but a small panic is creeping up his back. Just a little warning telling him to run.
“No. I—I was…” She touched her temple. Winced. “I don’t know what happened. Where are the doctors?”
“There were no survivors. You were the only one we found.” He explained before realizing he probably shouldn’t have. It freezes her. Her eyes snap back up at him, wide with shock.
“You're lying.” She denies it if it could change things.
“I’m not. Look, you don’t have to believe me. But I need to call the others. You’re not alone anymore, alright?” Bob steps back, slowly, and presses the intercom panel beside the bed. Lily doesn't answer. She doesn't move either.
“She’s awake.” He said. “I need the team down here. Now.” There is a crackle of acknowledgment that comes through. Lily’s eyes haven’t left him.
“Who are you?” Her question isn’t asking what his name is.
“Just someone who didn’t want you waking up alone.” He said after a minute. She doesn’t respond. Her hands fall back to her lap. Her body is stiff, defensive. Like she’s waiting for the catch. Outside the medbay, footsteps are coming up fast.
Bucky enters first, sharp-eyed, scanning. His stance goes tight when he sees Lily sitting upright, wide awake, and clearly alert. Behind him are Yelena, Ava, and Alexi. John follows behind the rest of them stepping in more slowly, expression unreadable.
“How long’s she been up?” Bucky asked looking over at Bob.
“Couple minutes. She’s stable. Alert. Not aggressive.” He adds the last like it will defuse the tension in the room.
“That can change real quick,” Ava said before taking a calming breath. Lily tenses at the new faces. Her back presses to the headboard. She doesn’t speak.
“You’re not a prisoner. You’re under observation until we know what happened to you—and what happened back at the facility,” Bucky explains clearly. He knows what it’s like to be confused and lost.
“The facility… the power went out. I don’t remember anything after that.” Her voice is flat, measured, but not cold. It sounds like someone trying to sound stronger than they feel and Bob feels that pain echo through him.
“We didn't find anyone else. No survivors. The power grid was cooked like it had taken a direct hit. Like EMP-level.” Ava tried to explain. Lily looks down at her hands. Her knuckles are scraped. Like she fought her way out of something.
“You remember your name?” Alexi asked trying to provide some level of comfort.
“Lily Calder.” She hesitates. “I turned eighteen two weeks ago.” She adds quietly. That sits heavy for a beat. It reframes the room. She’s barely more than a girl.
“Lily… you said the power just went out. Before the blackout, were you being held? Or were you there willingly?” Bucky asked
“I didn’t ask to be there.” She shook her head quickly but she didn’t elaborate. Her fingers pull at the edge of her shirt, twisting it. Everyone in the room registers that, Bob especially. His chest tightens.
“You remember what they were doing to you?” Yelena asked gently.
“Some of it. Not all. They kept saying it wasn’t ready. That I wasn’t ready. They didn’t let me leave.” She looks up suddenly emotion rolling off of her in waves. “Did I kill them?”
The team goes still.
“We don’t know. No bodies were found intact. The facility was destroyed from the inside out. It could’ve been an overload. Containment breach. Could’ve been someone else.” It's the truth and he knows she needed to hear that.
“We’re not accusing you. But we do need to know what you’re capable of.” Ava responds firmly.
“I don’t know what I am.” Lily blinks fast, trying to hold back tears.
“Then we’ll figure it out. Together.” Bob says softly. He’s not sure why he chose those words, but he feels better, calmer, after he says them and Lily looks more at ease. Bucky gives him a small glance—curious but not reprimanding.
“No interrogations. No pressure.” He says that to her. “She stays in med until we’re sure her vitals are stable and she’s not a threat, to herself or anyone else. We keep the rotation. Someone with her at all times.” The rest is for the team.
“Like guarding a bomb we don’t know how to disarm,” Alexi mutters as the team disperses from the room.
“Exactly,” Yelena says over her shoulder.
“You don’t have to talk unless you want to. But you’re safe here. That’s a promise.” Bucky says after a moment. She nods slowly.
“Can I have water?” She asked quietly. Bob moved before anyone else. Reached the counter and passed her a paper cup without saying a word.
She looks at him like she’s trying to figure something out. “Thank you.”
“You want to explain what the hell she was doing in that place?” He asked breaking the silence.
“What do you expect me to say?” She laughs.
“I want you to tell me why a kid was wired into an underground lab that’s off the books and full of dead scientists.” His gaze is cold.
“The site was flagged for illegal research months ago. We sent a team to assess, your team, Barnes. If you’d gotten there earlier, maybe we’d be having a different conversation.” The obvious deflection lands flatly with him.
“Don’t play dumb with me. You funded that facility.” His hands move to rest on his hips.
“I oversee hundreds of budgets. That doesn’t mean I sign off on what lunatics do behind closed doors.” She was getting defensive now.
“You knew she was there.”
“No. I didn’t.” Her smile finally slips.
“Then why are you so interested?” he asks hoping to corner her.
“Because we found a survivor. Because everyone else is dead. Because Bob Reynolds is pacing around the tower like his skin’s inside-out,” she motions to the monitor. Bob hasn’t left the medlab since Lily woke up. “And now we’ve got a girl in the medlab who set off an EMP large enough to knock out two miles of surveillance.” She stands, smoothing her jacket. “That’s not something I can ignore.”
“She’s not going back into a cage,” Bucky growled.
“No one said she was,” Valentina said loosely.
“Then what are you saying?” He was surprised by how things were going. Valentina stops at the door. She turns her head just slightly, just enough to glance at him over her shoulder.
“Keep Bob away from her.”
“Why?” Bucky asked, frowning.
Her expression doesn’t change. “No reason.” She shrugged before exiting the building without another word.
Bucky remains, jaw tight, staring at the closed door with the creeping feeling that something has just shifted beneath his feet.
I took a little hiatus from writing because I'm self employed and holy FUCK I don't recommend, but I really miss writing my stories so I've been trying to get back into it.
For me, reading a good fanfic has always helped light a fire under my ass to succeed at this. (Or watching IT: Welcome to Derry because I'm pretty sure Bill Skarsgård can inspire anything wearing a blood red clown suit).
My question; WHY are people tagging stories (here and on AO3, probably elsewhere) as both /reader and /OC?
To each their own, but I usually avoid /reader because I like descriptive, fleshed out characters that /readers avoid so they can match anyone (again, nothing wrong with that, read what you like). But if you're writing a second person POV with no name/gender/features...that's not really an OC. That's why the reader 2nd POV was created.
At least on AO3 I can exclude the /reader tag, but I can't do that here on Tumblr and man is it starting to piss me off.
Are y'all annoyed, too, or am I just a reader/writer from a bygone era when the /reader stories were rare?
Anyway, that's my question/rant. Hello everyone, I'm not dead! 👋
