josiewinters1999

[josiewinters1999]

Honestly, how was it not painfully obvious to us that The Doctor was hopelessly, desperately, madly in love with Rose?

He did things for her that he has refused other companions. He took her back in time to see her dad, he broke the rules of time travel for her, and... he went to a FAMILY DINNER for her 😱

If that's not love, idk what else it could possibly be.

[josiewinters1999]

Master's diary

[josiewinters1999]

i think there should be an episode of doctor who where the doctor returns to a time when police boxes were common and then forgets where he fucking parked

[josiewinters1999]

Eleventh Doctor x she/her!reader

AN: this is an ANGSTY one which is usually not the vibe for me but I got lost in this idea and completely fell in love with it so I really hope you like it!! this is the ost piece I was listening to while writing -

Set Things Right

With a sigh, the Doctor rubs his face with his hands, then places his palms flat against the console of the Tardis. She wheezes halfheartedly, seeming to wince in pain.

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?” The Time Lord pleads with her, desperate for any sign, any handy hint on what he can possibly do to help her. 

The two of them have been drifting aimlessly through deep space for a time that even a lord of such a thing has been unable to truly focus on. Hours, days, weeks - he doesn’t know, all of it has been lost to the worry over his oldest and truest companion. The one piece of home he has left. 

Closing his eyes tightly in a pained blink, the Doctor takes a deep breath in an attempt to tune himself into the Tardis further, to understand her, just enough to help. In focussing as hard as he possibly can, his subconscious grabs at the first sound it finds, no more than an unidentifiable flicker, but the Doctor hones his thoughts to the spark that the Tardis has sent him, whatever it may be. The very moment the sound becomes clear to him, though, the Doctor flinches away from the console, feeling a physical tear through his hearts and rubbing against his shirt to soothe the ache that resides there. Has resided there, and been ignored for another time that he dares not address.

“Don’t. Just…don’t, please. She’s….” The Doctor shakes his head, refusing to say the words as he falls against the railing, gripping it with one hand at his back while the other still holds his chest, as though shielding his hearts from another fatal blow. “She can’t help us, not anymore.”

And he feels it, the judgemental gaze of the Tardis on him at every angle, even in her weakened state. Loosening his bowtie to escape some of the pressure, the Doctor speeds from the control room, past a door that he knows was not previously so close to the main control room but he will not give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it, past the swimming pool, and towards the library. There must be something in here, he thinks to himself, haphazardly throwing books from the shelves on which they previously sat and creating a disheveled pile in the center of the room behind him, hoping one of them may contain the secret to healing his sickly time machine.

Quite suddenly, the Tardis jolts to the right, sending the Doctor falling into the pile of books he had unintentionally used to form his own landing pad. Jumping back to his feet with a firm frown on his face, the Doctor straightens his shirt and huffs.

“Now, I know you aren’t very well, but there is no need-”

Interrupting him, the Tardis throws him back to the ground with another fierce jolt, and then she bursts to life in what the Doctor can only describe as a fit of rage. She is taking flight, furiously, to a destination of her own choosing, with no regard for the Time Lord that is crawling his way back to the main control room through corridors that she turns on their heads, walls that she shrinks and enlarges, floors that she shakes and cracks with the sheer force of her determination.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” The Doctor shouts into the main control room, over her screeches, as glass panels splinter at his feet.

Flinging himself at the console, he grabs the monitor with both hands and tries to read the Gallifreyan text, the co-ordinates, anything, but she is flying too fast for his eyes to keep up with her train of thought as it blazes across the screen.

And with a final, deafening crash that sends the Doctor hurtling into the railing, the Tardis halts to a sudden stop. She wheezes again, but this time it almost sounds…relieved? As though wherever she has landed, it has brought her a sense of peace. This place can heal her wounds, the Doctor recognises her feelings towards it, and his ever curious mind is buzzing with excitement at the thought of such an incredible, new place. 

“Oh, where have you brought me this time, old girl?” Having already forgiven her for the bumpy ride, the ancient god is giddy, rubbing his hands together and retying his bowtie, grabbing his tweed jacket as he races for the door. 

He braces himself as he reaches for the wooden panel, hand trembling with excitement. With a deep breath, the Doctor pushes open the door and steps out into the brand new world. Except it isn’t, and it is. 

The street is one he would recognise even if he had never set foot there, because he knows this planet almost as well as he had known his own. Earth, the planet to have given him the greatest friends and adventures he’d ever known. But this street is not one he has never set foot on. The Doctor is a man who cannot look back because he dares not, there are many streets on this planet that he avoids for fear of the pain he would revisit on seeing them again, in the absence of those he once knew occupied them. And this street is no different, except in that it is the most recent of the streets he never wanted to see again, and in the way that he has been forced to do exactly that. He wants to run and hide, more than anything, but he is frozen to the spot, because something isn’t right. The air tastes different, the gravity feels slightly askew, and he can’t tell what year it is amidst the emotional tidal wave of it all. As fundamentally wrong as all of those aspects are, the Doctor cannot deny that they point to one possibility amongst a million others, but that one - regardless of the agony - he cannot live with the regret of denying. 

And then he hears it again. The same sound he had heard when inside the Tardis, the sound she had told him would help her, and now again, in the place she has taken him to heal her. Time seems to slow as the Doctor turns to his left, his eyes immediately locking onto and blurring a perfect vision he never thought he would see again. You.

Laughing so hard you are throwing your head back, eyes crinkled and tears spilling at their creases, your mobile phone to your ear only mildly distorting the view of you. Completely oblivious to the big, sad eyes that watch over you, a trembling smile of pure anguish choking out a disbelieving laugh with you, though he has no idea what you are laughing at. 

Clutching at his chest and feeling the world around him beginning to spin, the Time Lord stumbles back through the doors of his time machine and falls to the floor, pressing his back against the wooden panels in an effort to lock himself away. 

For the briefest second, all he feels is pain. Wound after wound tearing through his very being, bleeding him dry and crushing him into dust. And then that second ends, and the oncoming storm rises to his feet, a darkened frown etched into his brow.

“Why.” He mutters, approaching the console. “Why. WHY!” He throws his arms in the air and slams them against either side of the monitor, watching as you disappear down the street and then shoving the monitor away from him. “WHY would you bring me here?! What kind of cruel trick is this?! How DARE you! How…could you? How could you take me back to a time when she was…when you know that I can’t…” 

The Doctor trails off, defeated, and collapses onto the jump seat with his head in his hands.

Sensing his anguish, the Tardis groans at him, exasperated by the way in which he continues to miss the obvious. Sending the monitor flying back over to the side of the console that the Doctor is facing, the Tardis displays the exact time and date beyond her doors and waits. It takes the solemn, lonely man several seconds to lift his sorrowful gaze from his hands and read the Gallifreyan text she has written for him. 

He blinks, and blinks again. Then stands, closing the distance between himself and the monitor. 

“But, this can’t be right, that means…” The cogs begin to turn inside the mind of a genius, knowing for a reason he cannot come to terms with that he could not have possibly seen you on this date, in this time.

And as the realization hits him, his eyes widen, the Tardis seeming to screech in pure glee as her masterful plan is revealed to him. 

“You…” He whispers in disbelief. “You punctured a hole in the fabric of the universe…to bring us to a parallel world, where…” 

A soft knock at the door interrupts his bewildered and undecidedly disapproving train of thought. Leaning around the console, he frowns in confusion and, in a daze, strolls over to the door. Opening it just enough to show himself and not the bigger-on-the-inside majesty of his time machine, the Doctor unintentionally finds himself very nearly nose to nose, with you.

Jumping back in surprise, you chuckle. “Oh, hello! Blimey, talk about up close and personal!”

And the Doctor cannot say a word. In all his hundreds of years, you are the one thing to render him completely and utterly speechless. 

“Anyway, sorry to disturb you and your…policey business? I’m guessing this is a new thing or I just never noticed this blue box on the corner of my street, but, is this somewhere that I can raise concerns?” You ask him, staring up at him with the most clueless and curious expression. The pain caused by the lack of recognition in your eyes is nothing compared to the bliss of seeing the life within them.

Without a word, the Doctor nods.

“Oh, perfect! There’s this guy that’s been following me home from work in the evenings and it’s really starting to freak me out. I’m not sure if I just report it to you and you keep an eye out, since he hasn’t done anything and the law for creeps is lenient at the best of times, but if you’re stationed here I just wanted to give you a heads up, I guess.” You glance to either side, as though fearful the man you are reporting could overhear, but then your eyes meet the Doctor’s again and you smile so kindly. “Anyway, that was all. Hope you have a good night and don’t get too cramped in there! See ya!”

And, like what you’ve done hasn’t just altered the course of history, you spin on your heel and walk away without a care in the world. 

The Doctor closes the Tardis doors again and turns to face the console. 

“We can’t be here. She doesn’t recognise me, this version of her has never met me- well, she has now, I suppose, and that is entirely your fault! But she doesn’t know me, she’s lived the days on this planet that another version of her spent traveling through time and space with me, she has stayed safe here and I cannot do anything to jeopardize that, not again, so we have to-” He stops himself, mid-ramble and mid-walk to the center console.

“Except…the other version of her, the version that we knew, she mentioned a man that followed her home, just once.” His blood runs cold. “She said that had we not met when we did, she feared what he would have ended up doing to her, and in this timeline…” The Doctor’s fists clench at his sides as the reality of the situation dawns on him. “You have given me an impossible choice. To choose between the very fabric of the universe, and saving her just one more time.” He straightens his bowtie and heads for the door, casting a flirtatious smirk over his shoulder. 

“And you knew exactly what I would choose, you sexy thing.”

The next morning, you all but stumble into your office in a half-asleep state, having stayed awake far too late the previous night watching youtube videos about conspiracy theories to distract yourself from the curious, bowtie-wearing policeman you had met. Falling into the spinny chair behind your desk, you open your laptop and start tapping away to log yourself in for the day, tuning out the background noise of your coworkers doing the same. 

“Ahh, (Y/N)!” Your manager’s voice makes you jump, your life flashing before your suddenly wide eyes as you sit up straight and turn to face him.

“I wanted to introduce you to John Smith, he’s a detective in the area that’s been assigned to watch over this part of town due to some unsightly folks being reported on the streets!” He grimaces at the thought, but you hardly notice, your eyes having already gravitated towards the tall, slim man with the dopey smile on his face as he watches the tiniest spark of recognition ignite in your eyes. 

Standing from your chair, you hold a hand out to him. “We’ve met, actually, but I didn’t think it’d amount to this! Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Smith.”

If possible, the warm smile on his face brightens to challenge even the sun outside. “Duty calls! Pleasure’s all mine, but please, call me the Doctor.” He pretends to very dramatically whisper “It’s my code name.” 

Unable to stop yourself, you giggle and shake your head at his antics, making the young man with ancient eyes beam. 

“I’ll be surveying the area today, but this evening I wondered if you could take me on your route home, so that I can evaluate any…unsightly folks.” He says, referencing your report the day before and your manager’s choice of words.

You nod at him, smiling gratefully. “That’d be wonderful, thanks…Doctor.” 

And oh, how his hearts both skip a beat at hearing you say that.

For the rest of the day, you sit at your laptop and work away, while occasionally casting glances out of the window and at the carpark below, where the curious bowtie-wearing Doctor-policeman “surveys the area”. Now, you don’t pride yourself on being knowledgeable about police work, but you are quite confident that it doesn’t usually entail climbing trees simply to sit in them or getting bored enough to begin peeping in people’s parked cars and accidentally setting several car alarms off. All the same, every glance from the window leaves you with a smile that you truly struggle to wipe from your face, even in the wake of your desk job. 

At the end of your working day, you practically skip out of your office in search of the sweet fool that has offered to walk you home. You find him waiting beneath a streetlamp, surrounded by its golden glow, casting a halo over him that you can’t help to find somewhat metaphorical.

“Evening Doctor, had a good day?” You tease, knowing as well as he does that you have seen the majority of his antics.

“Good evening! I did have quite a good day, yes, did get a bit dull towards the middle, but as long as it helps keep the community safe, I will do it! How was your day?” He kindly returns your question, the two of you subconsciously starting to walk in step with each other.

“It was alright, bit dull, like you say, but we got through it!” You change the subject. “Before I entrust you with my route home, do you have a badge to prove your position, detective?”

Something twinkles in his eye at your sensibility, your desire to protect yourself, and the opportunity for him to show off one of his favorite party tricks. “Ah, of course! Here.” 

Digging into his tweed jacket, he retrieves a leather bound wallet and opens it out to you. The second you have digested the words on the small piece of paper within it, you are laughing so hard you are throwing your head back.

The Doctor, in a state of pure confusion, rapidly looks between you and the psychic paper. “What? What does it say?!”

Wiping your eyes, you try to calm yourself down. “It’s safe to say your flirting is much appreciated after a long day, Doctor.���

With wide eyes, the Time Lord reads over the piece of psychic paper that has never been more accurately named than when it answered your question of his professional title with a few, simple words. 

The love of your life.

And the Doctor has never flushed a more violent shade of red in all his years. With a disgruntled cough, he shoves the wallet back in his jacket.

“I am so sorry, that was not at all appropriate, please forgive-”

Nudging him playfully, you cut him off. “Nothing to forgive! As I said, I appreciated it. I know a creep when I see one, as proven, so I can tell when someone isn’t one. Translation: you can flirt with me as much as you like, pretty boy.”

He expects your flirting to fluster him even more, having not heard it in some time, but the sentiment is so familiar and by extension, comforting to him, the Doctor finds himself relaxing into your presence again, like nothing has changed.

“Pretty boy?” He chuckles.

You shrug. “Yeah, I’d definitely say you’re pretty. I suppose I’d have to, if you’re the love of my life.”

Playing along, the Doctor smiles at you, perhaps a little too adoringly. “Well, yes, it would be quite a shame if one of those statements were false.”

“Either one, in fact.” You give him a cheeky grin, the two of you sharing a comfortable laugh as you pass beneath another streetlight along your walk home that you have memorized so completely, you have all the time in the world to memorize an entirely new part of it.

By the time the Doctor walks you to your front door that evening, both of your faces ache from smiling as much as you have. 

“I regret to inform, I didn’t look behind us to see if we were being followed at any point.” You say, feigning disappointment in yourself that the Time Lord very quickly catches onto.

“Ah, well, in that case, I regret to inform the same- and it’s my job! I am rubbish at this.” 

His response brings another warm laugh from you. “I wouldn’t say you’re rubbish, but I think it is only fair we reconvene tomorrow evening and ensure we do keep our wits about us. What do you think?”

And the Doctor is grinning at you like you’re a tree with silver leaves, standing tall in deep red grass, beneath twin suns. A piece of home he truly never thought he would find again.

“I think I owe it to you, after my poor show today.”

With that, you’re smiling right back at him. “Wonderful! See you tomorrow then, Doctor.”

He raises his hand without really thinking about it and gives a very awkward wave, considering how close the two of you are standing, but it seems you are already accustomed to his clumsy social skills and have found the charm in them that speaks to your heart in the same way it does across every version of you. Sharing one final laugh, the two of you part ways, the Doctor beginning to retrace his steps from your house to his Tardis. 

When casting one last look over his shoulder, he sees you still standing in your half-open doorway, watching after him with a lingering smile that is so beautifully familiar to him. With a more socially acceptable distance now between you, he waves again, and you wave back, stepping into your house and closing your door behind you. And with a spring in his step that was previously long forgotten, the Doctor returns to his time machine.

She is in wonderful spirits, of course, seeing her Time Lord return with such a dopey smile plastered between rosey cheeks as he recounts the day he’s had, everything you said, everything you did. The Tardis makes what can only be described as mechanical noises of approval with every new piece of information about you. 

Knowing he can’t risk trying to time travel to the next morning when already breaking the rules by being in this parallel world to begin with, the Doctor decides to spend the rest of the evening and night tidying up. Something he doesn’t often do, as the Tardis will usually default to clean settings whenever he leaves a room in a mess, but she watches endearingly as he tidies away the books he’d thrown into to the library floor, polishes the railings of the main control room, and strangely, tidies away the fairy lights that you had wrapped around the bannister what feels like a lifetime ago, because you had insisted the Tardis could use a little more ‘dolling up’, as you put it. A classy girl, you had called her. No wonder she is still so fond of you.

But the Doctor had been unable to merely focus his gaze on the little glowing orbs that decorated the main control room, ever since you had last set foot in there. The reminder of your physical presence and the agony of the absence that followed was too much for him to confront, and yet here he is, wrapping them up and tidying them away like Christmas decorations that have been left up just a little too long. It is curious, the Tardis thinks. Does this mean he is ready to start processing his grief? Is he simply on an emotional high from seeing you again, to the point where he can touch the tangible reminders of you that were previously forbidden to trembling hands? Or, does he wish for you to set foot in here again and make the request for fairy lights that he will already have waiting for you? The Tardis does not know, but she knows very well what she hopes to be the truth.

The next morning, the Doctor actually decides to go on a stroll to the local shops. He had visited them only a handful of times with you before and often found them to be incredibly boring, which they once again proved themselves to be when he arrived at 5am to find none of them were open yet. Naturally, he spun around the carpark in shopping trolleys until the doors opened hours later. 

At work, you sit at your desk tapping your shoes against the carpet beneath it impatiently, glancing out of the window every few seconds with a frown that you truly cannot believe is there. Are you really this disturbed by the lack of presence of a man you have known no more than 48 hours?

But when he hobbles into the carpark, very awkwardly carrying a foldable ping-pong set, you struggle to contain the howling laughter that brings tears to your eyes. You watch in absolute wonder as the strange man sets the table up against a tree he had climbed the previous day, in perfect view of the window by your desk, and then turns to wave at you, ping-pong paddle in hand and a goofy grin on his face as he points at it and the table, in case you hadn’t noticed it. Waving back and miming that yes, you acknowledge the ping-pong table he has brought with him, you shake your head in disbelief and finally allow yourself to focus on your work. Meanwhile, in the distance there is the occasional, disdainful yell of a Time Lord playing ping-pong against a tree and losing.

That evening, the Doctor is once again waiting for you under the same streetlamp, illuminated by the same angelic glow as the evening before, and you can’t help feeling that each time you see him standing under it, that becomes more and more fitting.

“Evening Doctor, what’s the final score?” You ask, gesturing to the ping-pong table that he has left in the carpark.

Scoffing and pouting dramatically, the Doctor replies. “I don’t want to talk about it, but good evening.”

In an instant, the two of you are chuckling again, like old friends that have known each other far longer than you two have. Or rather, far longer than you have known him. The walk to your home continues in much the same way as it did the previous day, except the Doctor is more aware of your surroundings this time.

“So, I said to her, y’know, that’s totally unreasonable, and then she-”

The Doctor interrupts you by gently tapping your hand with his own as they swing between you. 

“I don’t want to alarm you, but we are being followed. Carry on as you were, I’ll keep watch.” He whispers, your arm immediately going rigid with fear beside him, but nodding along with his reassurances. “You are completely safe. I won’t let anything harm you.”

Clearing your throat, you continue. “Sorry, just remembered I forgot to save a file at work and made a mental note to sort that tomorrow. Anyway, as I was saying-”

Listening dutifully to your stories, as he always has, the Doctor only occasionally casts sideways glances to the opposite side of the street, where a shadowed figure is walking ever so slightly behind the two of you.

Once safely at your door, the two of you share a small smile, but your nervousness is obvious.

“Please, dont worry. After tonight, you won’t ever have to feel this way again. I will deal with him.” The Doctor tells you, voice soft but words firm in their meaning.

And you don’t know why, but you trust him completely. “Thank you. Goodnight, Doctor.”

With that, he gives you a warm smile, one that you will hold onto for the rest of the night. “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

He waits until you have stepped inside your home, closed and locked the front door, before he takes his leave. There is no skip in his step this time, his shoes thud against the concrete road with a determination and fury like no other.

Walking over to his Tardis, the Doctor rests his back against the doors and crosses his arms. 

“I know you’re hiding over there, I know you like to follow her. Just tell me why.” He speaks into the street that appears empty, but in his peripheral vision, he can see the same hooded shadow that had been following you earlier, hiding around the corner of someone else’s house.

For a moment, the stalker says nothing and the Doctor is tempted to speak again, but then a voice greets him from the dark.

“None of your business.”

The Doctor laughs coldly. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. By choosing to subject her to the fear that you have, you have made this my business. So, I’ll ask again, just once: why?”

The hooded figure considers the words and the obvious confidence of the bowtie-wearing man that leans against a police box. Based on this, he evidently tries to choose his words carefully, but not carefully enough.

“I like the way she walks faster when she sees me behind her.”

The Doctor’s blood boils in his veins. “You like to scare her?”

When no voice replies to correct him, the Time Lord stands up from leaning against the Tardis and walks over to the monster of a man that thinks himself hidden. 

“Does it make you feel powerful, scaring her? Like you’re making some impact on the world?” The Doctor seethes. “Let me make myself very clear: she is one world that will forever be out of your reach, both in who she is and the fact I will make sure of it. She is under my protection, do you want to know what that means?”

Without giving the monster time to answer, the Doctor grabs him by a tuft of his hair and slams his forehead into his, sending him a shockwave compilation of the Time Lord’s most formidable and incredible moments. The paper man crumbles to the floor, a shaking mess, and the Doctor stands tall over him. 

“If I ever see your face again, it will be your last day on this planet.” The Doctor threatens, voice eerily soft given the weight of his words.

Nodding frantically, the stalker scrambles to his feet and sprints as fast as he can away from the ancient god. 

Rubbing his face tiredly, the Doctor returns to his time machine and collapses on the jump seat. 

“He won't bother her again, she’s safe now.” He tells his oldest companion.

She whirrs pleasantly at him, grateful for him having saved you, but reiterating a question that already nags at his mind.

“After seeing my list of atrocities, it’s highly likely he’ll ever come back. We should…” He trails off, exhausted by the task of sharing his own history with another mind in such a way. Sighing deeply, he sits back in the chair. “But highly likely still isn’t definite. I should probably stay, just one more day, to be certain.”

And the next day, after another wonderful walk home with you, the Time Lord comes skipping through the Tardis doors with another beaming grin. 

“Well, there’s no way he would come back the day after I threatened to remove him from the planet, and I can't leave her so suddenly without an explanation! I owe her that, at least.”

But he is only justifying the continuation down this path to himself, the Tardis holds no opposition to what would usually cause her and the fabric of reality a great deal of stress.

Before he knows it, the Doctor has done the impossible: he has lived a normal week in normal human time. He knows that without you, he never could have done such a thing. To be honest, even if he had been with you as he was before, he would have struggled with this. Having lost you and lived without you in the way that he has, he has never wished more for the most mundane parts of a life with you. All the time spent running with you at his side, facing varying degrees of danger head on, running on adrenaline and saving planet after planet - it was only when he lost you that he realized in doing all of that, he barely had the time to just walk with you. Talk about your day, the weather, your friends, the gossip about town, the slow passing of an evening instead of cramming a month’s worth of adventures into a week of traveling and then dropping you back into your normal life on the same day you’d left it. How you adjusted to both, how you effectively gave up on the life you had here, the one he has now been blessed enough to live with you, he will never know.

And on the last night of the working week, when the two of you share a look that acknowledges the fact you won’t see each other again until Monday, and you invite him into your home for a cup of tea, the Doctor feels a piece of his hearts slot back into place.

Stepping into your home, without the souvenirs and paintings from your travels with the Doctor filling every empty space, only seeing pieces of you everywhere, your ornaments and trinkets and chosen wall art - all of it sings your name to him like a prayer. It is strange, to step into someone’s home for the first time and feel a sense of nostalgia. Something feels wrong, still, but the Time Lord allows himself to be blinded by everything that feels right, the constant comfort that he feels in your presence, the peace you bring his ancient mind. Just once, he feels he is allowed to ignore the nagging in his brain. The universe can let him have this, just for a little while longer.

Having made the Doctor the best cup of tea he has ever had - simply because it is you that has made it - you inform him it is against your code of conduct to stay in your work clothes once you have returned home, and rapidly ascend the stairs, leaving the Time Lord sitting in your living room in a lovesick daze. And when you re-enter the room in the coziest looking pajamas he has ever seen, the Doctor is absolutely certain that the look in his eyes tells you loud and clear, he would do anything for you. 

Flopping down on the sofa beside him, you kick your feet up on the plush footstool ahead of you. “So, Friday night, what are we saying - takeaway and a film?”

You could have asked him to marry you and the question would have sounded just as heavenly. The Doctor nods frantically, grinning after you as you briefly exit the room again and return with a box full of paper menus for various takeaway places, asking him to pick while you choose a film that you say he has to see at least once in his life. He pretends to deliberate, his eyes fixed on you as you dig through your stacks of DVD’s, but he knows that he’s going to choose your favorite takeaway and you’re going to put on your favorite film, which he has watched with you a number of times before, but cannot wait to watch again for the first time.

In the post-takeaway bloat, the Doctor has discarded his tweed jacket and bowtie, and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, while you have simply shifted your position to be snuggled into his side with your head against his chest. The two of you are snuggled under a fluffy blanket, watching your favorite movie in silence, save for your choice commentary over your favorite scenes. With your ear pressed against his chest, the Doctor wonders how you haven’t made a point of his irregular sounding heartbeats. While you have acknowledged it in your own head, something about it feels normal to you, preventing you from having any kind of reaction beyond being comforted by its sound. 

And never before has the Time Lord wished to be stuck in a time loop more. If the only way he could live this day, everyday, for the rest of time, would be to play it out over and over again, he would never complain about a thing. If his moral compass had a gray area that was just a little larger, he could let his Tardis being here cause a fracture in the fabric of reality with any number of consequences, if it meant he could stay here with you. But above all else, the Doctor wishes he could have a silly little job to complain about, that everyday he could come home to your little house, cook and eat dinner with you at your dining table, laugh about the days you’ve had and yours plans for the next ones, then snuggle up on the sofa in your pajamas to watch your favorite shows until you were tired enough to go to sleep. And every night, he would carry you up to bed, looking down at your sleeping face and planning each and every night how he’d ask you to marry him someday soon.

It isn’t until you feel a droplet against your head and sit up to face him that the Doctor realizes he desires that life so strongly it has reduced him to tears. 

“Doctor? What’s wrong?!” 

The care in your voice, the way he can tell you already feel for him, the bond you have automatically slipped back into without even trying. He has made an imprint on your life again, he couldn’t help it. He was here to save you just one more time, to set things right so that he and his time machine could grieve and carry on, that was his purpose here, but he has gone too far. There is no logical way that he can leave unnoticed and in any which way he left you now, he would hurt you. While it would only be a fraction of the agony he has lived in without you, he cannot bring himself to hurt you in any capacity, not again. 

“I have to show you something.” The Doctor tells you, standing up from the sofa and taking your hand, grabbing his jacket with the other and leading you to your front door. 

It is silent as you step into a pair of slippers big enough to fit your fluffy socks in, staring up at the Doctor in confusion and concern, and it is silent as the two of you walk the short distance between your house and his police box. 

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor pushes open the door and gently tugs you inside. Your legs falter behind him and he turns to face you, seeing an exact replay of the shock and wonder in your eyes as he did on the first occasion he brought you here. But there isn’t time, not anymore.

“Not a policeman, a time traveller. This is my ship, it’s bigger on the inside.” With your hand still in his, the ancient god rushes through the necessary clarifications as he leads you through the main control room, down a flight of stairs, and to the door that he previously couldn’t bear looking at, that the Tardis had moved closer to the main control room than it had ever been before.

The Doctor’s other hand is shaking as he reaches for the handle, but he cannot delay this any longer. He has gone too far.

Turning the handle dowards, he pushes the door open, the gesture weak but taking everything from him, his arm falling limp at his side. The room glows at your arrival, the Tardis sensing your return and greeting you in a warm smile. And despite the overwhelming strangeness of it all, you manage a small smile back at her. 

The Doctor feels your hand slip away from his as you cautiously step into the room, while he feels an invisible barrier denying him entry. After everything, he does not deserve the right to stand in there with you.

“This universe is not the only one.” He begins, voice light as he focuses on telling you a story, providing an explanation of what came first, forcing himself to forget what came after until he has no choice but to tell you that, too. “There is an ever expanding number of galaxies and worlds out there in this universe and others, and time is like…a cabinet, with folders pressed together that are so similar, only those who know them well enough could tear them apart. Parallel worlds.” 

His eyes are fixed to you as you seem to glide around the room, gaze lingering on every trinket you see, until you reach the fireplace to the left of the door. It bursts to life at your presence, flames roaring and firewood crackling, warming your slippers, but you neglect to notice that, otherwise entranced by the photographs that decorate the mantelpiece. Frame after frame, all different sizes, some photographs not framed yet, but placed there still, waiting to be stood with pride amongst the rest. Your own face, and the Doctor’s, smiling back at you in each and every one, with backgrounds of countless different places.

“I was lucky enough to meet you in a world parallel to this one. We…traveled together.” He takes a deep breath, watching you pick up some of the photographs to examine them closer, a confused frown on your face as you stare at them with such intensity. “There are planets safe in the sky, stars that sing songs of that version of you for saving them, even just for visiting them. That version of you was like…a sun, to many a planet, spreading an infectious joy wherever you went…to none more than me.” With a sad smile, his gaze drops to the floor, the line of your doorway that he cannot cross. “I took you from the planet that created you, the stardust from which you were born, and because of me, that world is now without you.” All light drains from the Doctor’s voice then, the weight of his crimes crushing the flicker of his spirit that only you could bring back. “What should have been an easy pit stop on an asteroid became the worst day in existence. It was your birthday- not that you remembered, you hadn’t been living earth days for some time, but you had mentioned how much you enjoyed celebrating and I couldn’t strip you of that human right along with everything else.” As kind as his gesture had been at the time, on reflection it is morbid, cynical and cruel. Everything he did that led you there had grown sour in the absence of you. “I took you to the largest asteroid belt in history, so that we could have a picnic there and you could take another photograph for your collection. But when we arrived…” The Time Lord swallows the lump in his throat, remembering every agonizing second as though it was happening all over again. “Colonizers, that was what they called themselves. A disorganized group of criminals; a broken cyberman and discharged jadoon, among them. They had stolen a vortex tunnel, which in itself was a terrible crime- they thought they could control one but not even Time Lords managed to master them. My history and their anger towards me for it was waiting outside the Tardis doors but because it had been clear when I’d set the picnic up, I didn’t think to scan the perimeter again. I sent you out there first to surprise you, and they-” Trembling fists clench at his sides, closing his eyes in a pained blink before opening them to a grave frown. “They’d already grabbed you and before I could say anything, they’d thrown you inside.”

Having already placed the photographs back on the mantelpiece, you watch the wonder of a man you’ve come to know crumble with shame. 

“What does a vortex tunnel do?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper so as to not upset him further by verbalizing such painful memories for him too loudly.

“Vortex tunnels are a risky means of escape. They pluck you from where you’re standing and send you hurtling across space and time with no definite destination. They could send someone to random coordinates, floating in space, to certain death- there is no way to predict them.” The Doctor answers, keeping his words factual and objective to regain some composure.

“Why would anyone want to use one?” You question gently.

“Desperation. Based on their unpredictability, they are illegal and kept in stasis, but there have been cases of criminals that use them to avoid trial and execution.” He replies.

“Couldn’t outer space police track them down, or something?” You aren’t quite sure you understand the full extent of the events, feeling that certain aspects are missing and it is down to you to piece together what you can while trying to save the Doctor from reliving such pain.

“Vortex tunnels don’t just send you across time and space, they erase your mind entirely. In the highly unlikely case of someone being tracked to where the tunnel had spat them out, they have no memory of their crimes, so cannot be charged for them. The creature that they were, all but ceases to be.” His voice is light again, fragile this time at the thought of the person he had known being erased from existence and left stranded. “There was no way for me to trace you, not even with a psychic link in the Tardis, because the psychic link with you was gone, your mind as we knew it, was gone. The Colonizers jumped into it afterwards, of course, to escape me.” The Doctor rubs his face with his hands, then places a palm against the doorframe. “She’s the reason I’m here. She mourned you so deeply that she ripped a hole in the fabric of reality to bring me to a parallel world, just to save you one last time, to make our last memory something better.” His hand falls to his side. “But I went too far, again. I stayed too long, made too much of an impression on this version of you, your life here. Now, leaving will hurt you, but I can’t take you with me. Not only do I refuse to take you away from the world, the family that is yours a second time, but I cannot replace her. As similar as you are, you are not her, and I know it. Something has felt wrong from the moment I arrived and as much as I’ve tried to ignore it, I can’t anymore-“

“What family?” You interrupt him, stunning him into silence for a moment.

He is so shocked by your question, he manages to meet your eyes for the first time since opening your bedroom door. “Your family, your parents.”

Your brow furrows, expression lost. “I…don’t have parents, Doctor.”

The Time Lord stares at you, dumbfounded. 

And then he’s walking towards you, stepping across the invisible barrier and breaking the distance to stare into your eyes, read what lies beyond them, a stern frown etched in his features. “Yes, you do. As different as parallel worlds can be, if you did not have parents, you would be a very different person. Your mother picked out your living room curtains, your father built the coffee table in there-”

You shake your head, interrupting him again. “Those were both part of the house, they were there when I arrived.”

Too perplexed to continue this interrogation manually, the Doctor takes your hand and all but drags you back to the main control room. Retrieving his sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket, he scans your brain and then transfers the data to his monitor, eyes reading the Gallifreyan data displayed over and over again, trying to make sense of it.

“Is there something wrong with me, Doctor?” You ask, beginning to worry based on his expansive knowledge and lack of ability to give you an explanation.

Looking from his monitor to you, he scowls. “Arrived.”

“What?” You question.

“You didn’t say the furniture was there when you moved in, you said it was there when you arrived.” His eyes slowly start to widen. “You saw the Tardis. When we first landed here- she automatically blends in with the world around her, but you saw her. And when I told you to call me the Doctor, you didn’t question it, not once. Despite being introduced to you as John Smith, you never called me that, even in private.” Slow, hesitant steps towards you, as though he’s scared to approach what you could be. “You didn’t question anything, throughout my explanation. Not the time travel, not the Tardis or referring to her as ‘she’, not parallel worlds, not the alien species I referenced, not how we met, the places we’d been- you only started asking questions in the end, about the only things that - out of everything I told you - you didn’t already know.”

His words sink into your skin slowly, your mind finding it much more difficult to digest this information than it had everything else the Doctor has previously told you, and he’s right, all of that should have raised more questions from you.

The Doctor reaches for your hand so slowly, and you don’t know why, but you accept it, instinctively. A small smile blooms on his face, the tiniest glimmer of hope as he looks between you and the Tardis console.

“She wasn’t sick, oh, you sexy thing- that’s how she brought us here, she was tracking you across time and space, pinpointing the anomaly of you, thrown from your own timestream and into another.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to place a kiss against your knuckles. “If we fly away from here, if we go back to your Earth, the timeline will correct itself and you should remember everything- we can’t let this anomaly continue or it could tear apart time and space in some grandiose butterfly effect!” 

And he lets go of your hand to run around the console, pressing buttons and pulling levers with an exhilarated grin on his face, the Tardis whirring with excitement, while you just stand there.

“All this time, I thought she couldn't find you, silly old Doctor! I was slow on the uptake, as usual- I hope the Shadow Proclamation can forgive any ripples in the continuum that follow this, but-”

“Doctor, wait.”

He stops suddenly, the wondrous time machine collapsing into silence. 

“The fact I already trust you as much as I do and don’t feel terrified by this frankly alarming turn of events, suggests you and the Tardis are right, but…remembering an entire life that, as of now, I don’t fully recognise I’ve lived, how will that feel?” For the first time since meeting the Doctor in this world, you are scared at the thought of what comes next.

Understanding your concern, the Doctor returns to you and takes your hands in his. “Quite honestly, I have no idea, I’ve never seen the recovery process from a vortex tunnel. I can only guess that it will feel overwhelming, it could send you to sleep, but whatever happens, I will be right here, and you will be fine. I promise you. I will never risk you again.”

He holds your face in his hands, gaze locked with yours.

Taking a deep breath, you nod. “Okay.”

The Doctor smiles at you. “Keep your eyes on me and reach for the lever on your left, you know the one.”

And like it’s second nature, your hand grabs the very lever he’s referring to, bringing a beaming grin from the Time Lord as you tug it down. 

With a wheeze and a groan, the wonderful time machine lifts into the sky and drags herself out of the parallel world, beginning the journey back to the one you came from. Through the time vortex, your knees buckle, winding you and forcing you to collapse into the Doctor, who holds you against him so tightly, slowly lowering the two of you to the floor to hold you on his lap, arms keeping your body safe as your mind races a mile a minute.

“You can do this, we’re almost there. Come on (Y/N), hold on, for me.” He murmurs into your ear, comforting you through the tears that wrack your body, memories attacking you from every angle. 

Regardless of how happy the majority of those memories are, to experience them all at once and at the same time as all of the sad ones, the painful ones; to feel every emotion you are capable of feeling simultaneously and remembering every instance in which you have felt every one, in a microsecond; a human mind can only cope with so much.

The memories of his smile and laugh overlay every flashing image of every place you’ve been together, every species you’ve encountered, friend you’ve made, planet you’ve explored, until it all fades to black and you are empty again.

Only this time, instead of waking up in a simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar house with a mental block on how you had arrived there and no understanding of who you were beyond the corporate life you led amongst billions of your kind, your eyes flutter open to your home. Sitting in a chair beside your bed, he watches over you, your guardian angel. The delirium with which you scan the room around you, acknowledging the crackling fire and the familiarity of your bedroom on the Tardis, makes you feel as though you have slept a thousand years.

“Doctor? What-”

He interrupts you, gently shushing you. “Rest, (Y/N), you need to rest, please. Recovering and reliving your entire life all at once and in under a minute is not a normal process for anyone, you need to let your mind recover.”

Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you nod at him. “How long have I slept for?”

“Three days.” 

With eyes like a deer in headlights, you sit bolt upright in bed, immediately starting to feel dizzy and the Doctor jumping from his chair to steady you, propping your pillows up behind you.

“Three days?!” 

The Doctor nods. “Yes. Had I thought about this recovery process, I probably would have picked a more comfortable chair.”

Your jaw drops. “Tell me you have not been sitting there for three days straight.”

And the ancient god is silent.

You sigh. “Doctor!”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “If I told you I hadn’t been sitting here for three days, that would have been a lie, so I thought it best not to say anything!”

Shaking your head in disbelief at him, you shuffle to the side of your bed that is pressed against the wall. “For goodness’ sake, you ridiculous fool.” You pat the empty space beside you on your bed. “Get in here.”

The Doctor’s eyes widen. “Y-You need the space to rest!”

You hold his gaze. “Before getting to the parallel world, how long had it been since you last saw me?”

He avoids your eyes. “I wasn’t keeping count, we were just drifting while she tracked you- it doesn’t matter.”

Frowning, you look up at the ceiling. “Tardis? On the monitor above my bed, can you tell me how much time had passed between my disappearance and the two of you arriving on the parallel world, in Earth days?”

And as always, she is ever so happy to listen to you. The monitor above your bed flickers on, displaying a black screen with a single line of text. 

1096 days, 15 hours, 38 minutes, 4 seconds.

Having never been particularly mathematically gifted, you turn back to the Doctor. “...How many years is that?”

But he doesn’t have it in his hearts to tell you, to admit how long he was alone for, how long he and the Tardis grieved for, how long they drifted in space while she searched for you and he tortured himself with the guilt of losing you, the hopelessness of never being able to find you again. Retrieving his sonic screwdriver from his jacket again, he zaps the monitor above your bed and then returns the tool to his pocket, hanging his head.

Looking back up at the monitor, your eyes fill with tears at the change of text.

3 Years, 1 Day, 15 hours, 38 minutes, 4 seconds.

One hand lifts to cover your trembling bottom lip, while the other reaches for his hand.

“Three years?! Doctor, that’s-”

He cuts you off. “If the Tardis hadn't taken flight when she did, it would have been an eternity, I can assure you.”

The Doctor’s words hit you like a train, so suddenly and stopping your heart with a screech before it starts again, spluttering frantically in your chest at the impact. Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you chuckle, in complete disbelief.

“Well, daft old man, you know what that means, don’t you?”

Unable to resist the urge to lift his head and see your smile again, the Doctor meets your eyes. Without realizing it, he starts to smile back at you, silently asking you to continue.

And you do, giving his hand a squeeze before letting go of it to tap the empty space on the mattress beside you again, with a tearful smile that sets both his hearts ablaze.

“I think you need a cuddle just as much as I do.”

[josiewinters1999]

A short, slightly angsty Twelfth Doctor one shot - but don't worry, it's cute in the end :) 

Imagine you are traveling with the Doctor and at some point, after another ludicrous adventure, there are emotions demanding to be felt. What’s going to happen?

(picture not mine)

"Just Once"

„Do you trust me?“ the Doctor asked. His hands were firmly wrapped around your upper arms and he stared unblinkingly at you. 

„Yes, yes of course, yes of course I do,“ you stuttered, „ always!“

The Doctor heavily breathed out through his nose and cast his view down, head hanging for a second before it snapped back up. This irritated you. Why did he seem disappointed? Why did you get the feeling that the Time Lord actually wished to be rejected. Was it because of fear? Was he scared of the responsibility that came with the trust that others put in him? That you obviously put in him… But why did he ask then? You were puzzled which had to be showing on your face because the Doctor’s face grew a bit softer, a bit less pensive and he seemed to really look at you again. 

Then it dawned on you. He was asking for permission, which was also why he did hope you would deny him. Permission for what though? You had been running with this man for what felt like forever. Why did he need reassurance now? Now of all times? 

You both had just barely made it out of an underground city which had been flooded by an acidic river. Until the last second the Doctor and you had tried everything to reverse the polarity of the thick, clear liquid but to no avail. In the end you still had to flee, almost not making it. Both of your clothes were scorched from the acid. Your boots looked especially bad. The soles were almost completely gone. Shame really, you did love those minty Doc Martens. Now, thinking back you realized how close of a call this last adventure had been. Suddenly something „clicked“ and you understood. Naturally the Doctor would pick a time like this to inquire upon your faith. It weren’t just your emotions running high but the Time Lord’s too. You had almost lost each other. All over in a blink of an eye. Gone. Unceremoniously slurped up by some acid glibber-liquid-river-thing. Dissolved into nothingness. 

Panic rose in you, even more adrenalin rushing your system. Panic you should have felt minutes ago racing against a tide bellowing after you. But all that kicked in now.

„I could have died,“ you whispered to yourself eyes not really looking, your gaze going inward. 

„We could have died!“ You yelled and your voice rung in your own ears, harsh and loud. You slapped your hand over your mouth shocked by the enormity of your statement and a tremble went through your entire body. 

„Doctor,“ it sounded muffled against the palm of your hand. Tears sprang to your eyes, a familiar sting. Your throat felt very tight all of a sudden and then you couldn’t hold it back any longer. A heart-wrenching sob left your body. 

The Doctor’s own eyes didn’t hold tears but they still carried a heavy sadness. His hands moved a little, making a very small stroking motion up and down your arms and shoulders. Then he removed your hand from your face which was still covering your mouth. He kept holding onto it tightly. His long slim fingers folded themselves around yours and that pressure anchored you back down. Wordlessly the Doctor started to wipe away your tears. All the while he kept holding your gaze and you didn’t know if you could handle the intensity or the intimacy of his actions. When he finally spoke the Time Lord’s voice was rough with emotions. 

„But you didn’t. We didn’t.“ It almost sounded like he was only saying those words to make sure they were still holding up to reality.

The lump in your throat eased up a little. The Doctor’s hand on your face calmed you down and you leaned your head more into it. You let him take more of the weight that had been sitting heavy on you. Your eyes fell shut. His caress was blooming like a bright light in your mind and you relished all the attention he was giving you. How could those fingers be so soft and gentle when he hardly ever seeked out another one’s touch? How could he put so much comfort in one touch when he never let anyone be so kind with him? How could he be so gingerly when he would never allow himself to be treated the same? 

You feel is thumb running slowly over your cheekbone. Once, twice then you lose count, lost in the sensation. The Doctor’s hand that was still holding yours squeezed lightly, you could feel a tug. It pulled you out of your head, like a rope pulling you out from under the water. You broke the surface and your eyes flickered open again. There he was and his cross eyebrows – not so cross right now. „He is so close“, you thought. Had he been that close a minute ago? 

I am not a hugger. The Doctor’s voice echoed through your memories from a while back. Him uttering these words really had stung a lot. He had respectfully but also firmly peeled himself out off your embrace and gone back to fiddling about the Tardis’ console. Of course even back then you had known that the Doctor did not reciprocate your feelings for him. At least most definitely not the romantic ones. A friend, maybe even a best friend, something resembling family by choice – yes absolutely but not a lover, not that kind of love. So his comment about not being a hugger did not surprise you too much. Numerous times you had become firsthand witness to the Doctor and his awkward little dances to avoid physical contact with just about anyone. However it still shattered your fragile human heart. Secretly you had wished he would make an exception for you. Oh, how stupid of you to think that. Acid rivers wont kill me, you rebuked yourself,  but my naiveté and wishful thinking are going to be the death of me. 

No, the Time Lord really hadn’t been so close a moment ago and you were still certain that he wasn’t a hugger. So what was going on? His face was so close you could, for the first time, make out the little brown spots in the Doctor’s blueish-green eyes. It came with a bit of a surprise to you that you had never really thought about what color his eyes were. You just knew you always wanted to see them. Now that they had been unwaveringly on you for the last minutes you found yourself growing uneasy. The adrenalin, the panic, the close proximity to the Doctor and his strange behavior had you strung tight like a rubber-band about to snap. For a short time there was only breathing. It made you painfully self-aware, too loud, too heavy, too quick. Matching right up with the beating of your heart and you wondered if the Doctor’s two hearts were hammering away in his chest as well. You wanted to put your hand on his chest and feel, you needed to know. The craving was so strong you had to actively keep yourself from reaching out. There was no way you would invade his space like that even though he was practically pushing „his space“ onto yours by now. 

You were lost and so confused. For all you knew you too could have been holding a silent conversation judging by the staring contest but you had no clue what about. The Tardis translates pretty much any language in time and space, why doesn’t she speak grumpy, Scottish Time Lord and his many dialects just this once. A huffed laughter slips out between your lips and you loose eye contact with the Doctor for a second. This was getting ridiculous and frankly you were past waiting. 

„Doctor,“ with a swift movement you push his left hand off of your face and pull your hand free of his right.  

„What is going on, what do you want? What are we doing here, I don’t –“. And his hands snapped back in position this time both on your face, holding it lightly, effectively shutting you up. You were dumfounded, brain not braining. A sound, which could have been interpreted as something in the area of „Doctor?“ but that would have been reaching, left your mouth. The Time Lord looked at you, registering all your emotions. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes wandered all over your face like he was trying to create a blueprint for his memory. And then wondrously he stepped even closer. It could have been the dim lights in the Tardis’ hallway but you were sure the Doctor’s eyes darkened. His body was so close to yours that you felt the heat radiating off of him. You stayed perfectly still not sure what to think, feel or do. 

„I will do this once, because I just have to know.“ The Doctor whispered while bending down a little. His mouth was inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your lips. 

„I need,“ he pressed his eyes shut and your breath hitched in anticipation, was this really happening? 

„I need so see how it feels, I need to know if…“  He hesitated. The Time Lord opened his eyes again giving you a pleading look almost begging for help. You understood then that he was battling with himself. 

Almost losing you had made him realize how much you actually meant to him and he wanted to act on it. He wanted to show you but this would mean completely going against all his rules. He was the Doctor he couldn’t get too close, he needed to keep a safe distance – always. Otherwise the inevitable loss would tear him apart. But not knowing what it would feel like to just give in made him want to crawl out of his own skin. For once the Time Lord wanted to feel it all, the butterflies, the longing, the safety, the familiarity and all the sweet nullities because how could he deny his hearts when they were bound to feel the pain of parting eventually. 

You could see the ongoing struggle on the Doctor’s face.You wanted to help him badly but without taking the choice away from him. Knowing the Doctor meant to understand that he couldn’t be pushed. So you decided to simply repeat your statement from a few minutes ago. 

„Doctor,“ you mutter, “ I trust you, always.“

In an instant the Doctor’s mouth was on yours. His weight pushed you against the curved wall of the hallway. The cool metal, a harsh contrast to the warmth between you too. One of his hands brushed past your jawline, along your neck, up into your hair. The other fell down to your waist holding onto you. 

When you kissed it was a brush of soft lips. For all the need the Doctor had held right before kissing you, it was all but slow and tender now. Then the tip of his tongue nudged against your lips softly asking for more but it didn’t feel forward, it was rather sweet, almost shy. You opened your mouth and the Doctor deepened the kiss tentatively. 

Suddenly you could taste him. There was thunderstorm and starlight, vanilla ice cream mixed with the smoky bite of a good Scottish whisky and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was glorious and you just melted into the Time Lord. Your bodies slotted against each other like they had always been intended to do just that and still he pulled you closer. Never letting go. There was heavy breathing and tiny noises but from whom you couldn’t tell. 

Did you stop breathing and just kept on kissing? You had no idea. 

Did said kiss last for two seconds or two hours? Still you had no clue. 

All too soon the kissing stopped and pathetically a whimper slipped out of you when you felt the Doctor pull away just a bit. It was not for long though. He proceeded to place wispy kisses all over your face and your knees turned all wobbly. You always knew the Doctor was a kind and sweet soul but you never imagined him to be so smooth and caring when it came to physical contact. That realization made your heart want to burst out of your chest. Could you love this man even more? 

The next time he reached your mouth he melted against it with a sigh. That sound robbed you of any restraint you might have still held and this time you passionately deepened the kiss. 

When the two of you came up out of the haze for air, the Doctor looked slightly disheveled and you couldn’t help yourself but it was just adorable. Tousled hair, red cheeks, whiffled eyes. 

You were still in his arms, you both didn’t seem to want to move. The Time Lord had never looked so openly and lovingly at you before. It felt like he wanted to make sure you understood that he was ready to let someone in. To let you in.

You smiled at him. Gently you ran your thumb over the Doctor’s cheek. He closed his eyes and a small smile was playing on his lips. 

And then suddenly, you had figured it out. 

„Oh, I know now,“ you said softly steeling one more chased peck on the lips from the Doctor to confirm your guess. He looked at you curiously.

„You know what?“ His voice low and husky. 

„Oranges.“ you exclaimed and leaned forward a little. Speaking while your lips touched his. 

„You taste like a loud thunderstorm and bright starlight, like vanilla ice cream doused with smoky whisky and fresh oranges.“ 

The Doctor laughed, burying his face in your neck and layering it with kisses. 

„I aim to please,“ he said and you both had to laugh at that. 

[josiewinters1999]

𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒.

here are all of my favorite logan fics! i will continue to add to this as i read more. as always, any smut is marked with a *. please go support these talented writers!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i’m down on my knees, i wanna take you there by @thebestandworstdayofjune

guess by @bpmiranda *

my girl by @imaginedisish *

sugar, sugar and come on and show me by @eupheme *

a peaceful repose by @d1stalker

i don’t know why i bite by @not-neverland06

night rides w/old man logan by @eufezco *

guard dog by @ovaryacted *

dig your claws right into me , can’t get started , and make him do what i say by @dollfacefantasy *

easing by @yesimwriting

the honda odyssey by @coweye *

white hot forever by @eddies-ashtray *

diet pepsi by @flowersforbucky *

time after time by @hyper-fixates *

the art of make believe matrimony by @gothgoblinbabe

truth or dare by @pandapetals

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[josiewinters1999]

Light in the Dark | Twelfth Doctor

Twelfth Doctor x reader

Fluff, angst, then more fluff <3

Not my gifs

You were telling a story.

You wished you could live in moments like this forever. Both of you sat across from each other at a counter in the TARDIS kitchen, your hands pleasantly warm wrapped around a mug of your favorite tea. You spoke quietly about the previous day, your family, your thoughts, while sipping your drink occasionally, tendrils of steam warming your face. Quiet, just talking. It was your peaceful post-breakfast conversation before the trip of that day.

The Doctor seemed to be listening attentively, nodding occasionally with your retelling. You thought your narrative would have bored him to death, that he would have rolled his eyes and jutted in with a sharp remark about the dullness of everyday human lives. But he’d kept silent this morning. Maybe a bit too silent.

While you spoke you found yourself watching him, or, really, his hands. He really did have the hands of a doctor, you thought. Graceful, yet skilled enough to look like they belonged to a surgeon. Strong, yet vulnerable, and gentle to whatever he touched. You were mesmerized watching him trace his fingers along his tea cup while you spoke, rotating it slowly, drawing circles and smaller circles on the white porcelain.

Suddenly your words died on your lips, mid sentence. Now this was something you couldn’t believe.

Keep reading

[josiewinters1999]

Heartbeat | Twelfth

This was requested by @i-imagine-my-doctor because the Lewis Capaldi video for ‘’Somebody To Love’’ was heart breaking and I needed someone to write for it, so here it is. I hope you all enjoy!!

Listen to this song - Somebody You Loved by Lewis Capaldi 

<><><><><><><><>

He thinks about it far too much. The way your heart beat echoes aimlessly in the shell of the headphones tucked away in his ears, another constant reminder to The Doctor just how long gone you really are. This world had always been cold and cruel, but a loss such as yours makes it difficult to bear living on Earth. 

It has been over a year since The Doctor clung to the shadows as your parents buried you on Earth. Quaint little place… Earth was. He almost regrets spending so much time there because now, it only reminds him of you. Your parents had never met him, and thus had never known the nature of your relationship. 

How deeply you loved him despite the kind of man he was. You had never cared about this regenerations lack of intimacy, or how he looked, or who he was. You loved him despite the darkness and the demons, and it had made him a better man knowing that after all this time, he too was deserving of a love as deep as yours. 

Over a year had gone by since he last sat at your bedside and at your request, listened to the lullaby of your heartbeat. 

  “Every Doctor should memorized the melody of his lovers heart.” 

And oh… what a melody it was. A haunting whisper of your memory wrapped up in the fractured beating of a human heart. A heart that upon your passing was donated to a desperate mother in need of a new one. 

The Doctor feigns the anguish of a widowed husband, not like it’s particularly difficult, as he makes his way to the home of the recipient. He’d spent the morning laying supine on your bed with the headphones in his ears, desperate to wash away the memory of the last time he’d made love to you here. What once was a sanctuary was now a tomb. Your tomb. 

The recipients husband praises your bravery just moments after meeting him and repeatedly thanks The Doctor for your sacrifice. Most of the conversation taking place around him is nothing but white noise until a little girl, much like the one he’d dreamt of having with you, presents him with a childs drawing. Written across the bottom in bold crayon are the words, “Thank you for making my mummy better.” 

The sheer innocence behind her words is enough to send him crashing back into reality; Despite how much he needs you, as much as he craves your presence, you are not there anymore. 

  “I will always be with you, Doctor. Just a whisper of the wind.. That will be my voice, and I will be there to relieve your suffering.” 

It is slowly suffocating him. 

  “Do you want to listen to her heart?” 

No matter how much he fights the urge, The Doctor cannot refuse an offer to listen to the real beating of your heart, so he allows her to take his hand and presses it gently against the incision site on her chest. 

Oh… how you sing. 

He thanks the woman and her family for allowing him to touch you one last time - a final goodbye to the woman who married him - and he treks back to where his TARDIS hides in the corner of your flat, having been dormant since you were hospitalized. The cellphone in his pocket feels as if it carries the weight of the world as he plugs it into the console. 

  “Let the Universe sing to you, Doctor.” His words echo that of the Ood population he had encountered so long ago, a whole other lifetime when he had been a different man. He prays that you would have loved him just as fiercely in that body as you had in this one. “Let your Universe sing you to your sleep.” 

As he always falls asleep in the depths of his TARDIS, the universe sings to him in the thrumming beat of a human heart. One that touched many of the lives it encountered on your adventures across the galaxies, and will forever be a reminder to him of just how deeply this ancient being could love a mere human with a finite life. 

Because no matter how hard he tried to run away from his inevitable fate, losing you would have always happened; It was the Curse of the Time-Lords. A life void of love and filled with anguish and heartbreak, despair and grief. A life he’d been destined for since the genocide of his own race. 

A cross you had helped him carry that he would bear until the world simply faded away around him. It would be good though - the day the world faded away. 

That meant he’d get to see you again. And if it meant reuniting with you, The Doctor could wait for happiness.  

[josiewinters1999]

starry nights are for coffee and contemplation (eleventh doctor x reader)

summary: after a visit to planet of the coffee shops, coffee-frenzied reader struggles to fess up about her feelings.

masterlist

word count: 2580-ish

content warning/notes: none! bantering, back and forth, some internal struggle, but an overall happy ending. fem!reader & use of y/n; borrowed some dialogue from the ep "the girl who waited"

other notes: i'm really excited to share this with all of you, especially with all the love "better" has received! all the likes and kind words in tags and comments have been super exciting. been a couple months in the work, hope u all enjoy!!! <3

—

You needed a break. 

The Doctor laughed bitterly at his predicament: a Time Lord with all of time and space at the pull of a lever, and he was at the whim of a human. That is, a human he’s very, very fond of.

Why go alone, when he could go with his best girl?

In a moment of desperation, the Doctor dug into his deep purple coat pocket, retrieving a folded piece of legal paper, where he’d once scrawled down all of the places he just had to take you. His mind was just mush when it came to you, he couldn’t count on his memory. 

He unfolded the sheet of paper carefully and dragged his finger down the list of his messy scrawl until he found the perfect destination. “Aha!” 

A couple weeks into the future should do, surely. 

The Doctor scrambled up the stairs leading to your apartment, aimlessly fumbling with his set of keys while flushing at the thought of having a set in the first place. 

He still remembers the way his heart skipped a beat as you placed the spare in his hands. He made sure not to mention when you’d placed the keys in his hands that he could use his sonic to pop the lock, or better yet, park inside. 

Having a tangible piece of you to stow away in his pocket made his hearts do flips. 

“Hullo,” the Doctor chirped, flipping the switch. “Up, up, up! We’ve got a huge day ahead of us, you and I!” He plopped himself beside you. 

You could barely manage a grumble, eyes bleary with sleep.

“Jeez,” you mumbled, exhausted. “You at least turn the coffee pot on?” 

“Aha! Thought of that,” the Doctor said sing-songy, all smiles. “Get up! I’ll be back! Got some things to… to tend to! Be back in a flash!”

 “Planet voted number one in the Top Ten Greatest Destinations for the Discerning Intergalactic Traveller,” the Doctor said, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed fumbling with your bag of beauty supplies.

“Yeah, yeah… broody, discerning intergalactic traveller, that’s you… Mascara?”

He handed the pink tube to you.

“Huh! No.”

“And where is that, Doctor?” you asked as you carefully apply a coat of brown mascara to your lashes. 

“Huh?”

“The planet voted number one, by like-minded broods like you…”

“Oi!” he huffed, and then continued. “The planet of the coffee shops.“

“Huh, well, I like the sound of that!” Satisfied with your handiwork, you closed the tube and handed it back to him. 

His mouth quirked up. He loved being able to impress you.

“Well, I don’t,” he added quickly, without thinking. “It’s hideous.” 

“Then why would you think that I’d like it?” You feigned offence, but can’t help but smile. The way words fell off his tongue without much thought was one of the things you loved about him.

“No, no, no,” he scrambled to explain. “Some of the best coffee in the entire universe! But Apalapucia was robbed! It’s breathtaking. Number two?! Colonnades and spires… Sunsets!” 

You smiled. You cheesed. You loved his fits of passion. 

“Raincheck on number two, then?” You proposed.

“For another sunny day,” He smiled. 

Silence fell between you.

You piped up, “Oi, I don’t know if I like the sound of you being more…”—you tried thinking up another choice for the special brand of off-the-walls, grippy sock insane that the Doctor was—”...hyperactive than you already are. No need to add caffeine into the mix.” 

“Time lord,” He gestured to himself, then you: “Human. I think I can handle a cup of coffee better than you.” 

“Right,” You crossed your arms, unimpressed. 

He swatted your concerns away, frustratingly. “Let me do something nice for you. And I promise, I’ll lay off the coffee… Speaking of which, what’s that smell?”

“The coffee pot,” You shrugged innocently. “A teensy bit of pre-gaming before Planet of the Coffee Shops. Speaking of which, I can’t believe you’ve left me hanging this long.”

“Hush, leave it!” 

You decided to nestle into the corner of a neat little cafe, taking in the nutty aroma and the bustle of people in and out of the shop while the Doctor ordered for you, at his insistence that he’d surprise you.

The cafe you had chosen was cluttered with bookshelves filled with books you never read, let alone heard of, while mismatched tables and chairs were spaced out haphazardly throughout the closet shop. It was an atmosphere that felt more familiar than foreign. 

You were drawing circles on the beautifully crafted table when the Doctor sat down in front of you, “Our coffee!” 

“Good,” You breathed in relief, it was your lifeline. 

“Two lattes,” The Doctor announced proudly, producing two glass mugs. 

He placed the lavender-tinted substance in front of you. Foam art swirled beautifully at the top of your cup.

Lavender latte, of sorts. With syrupy flavours, with names very foreign to your tongue. 

While you admired the delicate latte artwork, and well before you even dared a sip, the Doctor already had taken a large gulp of his beverage. 

Weren’t you supposed to be the caffeine fiend of your friendship? 

“Doctor,” you said in disbelief. 

“What?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

You took note of the bit of latte foam about the shape of his lips, before he wiped it away with his sleeve. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiled, a slight blush crept to his cheeks as he pushed the cup to his lips. 

He’d be the death of you. That smile, those eyes. 

“So how long’d you wait?” You asked suddenly, after indulging in a conservative sip. 

“Huh?”

“To come fetch me.” 

He didn’t respond, now suspiciously fascinated with the remaining swirl of foamy milk and bittersweet coffee pooled at the bottom of his cup. 

“Couldn’t have been more than a day or so,” you added, smugly. “You’re positively obsessed with me.” 

His cheeks burned red. “Am not!” 

You took a sip of your latte, “Okay, okay, chill. I’m teasing!” 

“Chill?” He said, cringing the teeniest bit. “I don’t like that.” 

You thought for a second. “Yeah, you know what? I don’t either.”

“Two,” He said suddenly.

Your eyes widened in realisation, “Oh, days?”

You had often kept track of the Doctor’s multiple trains of thoughts. You fancied yourself a bit of an expert on, well, him. 

“…hours,” he admitted sheepishly, brushing away the bit of hair that fell into his eyes.

You’re mostly confused, but you can’t help the way the corner of your lip quirks up. “Hours?” 

“Bah, don’t look so pleased,” He groaned miserably. “I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ll never let me hear the end of it.” 

“Doctor, I’m not that cruel. I’m mostly flattered.” You were. Two hours? He had to be lying. These little breaks were for his sanity. You loved travelling with him, and well, him.

 You didn’t want him to get tired of you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You said, cheeks burning. 

Two hours? The thought excited you. 

You stood up abruptly. You decided you wouldn’t entertain the idea any further. Sure, you fancied the idea of him being as mad for you as you were for him, but you hardly believed he actually was. 

No use in getting your hopes up, you thought glumly. 

 “So, gonna show me what else the Planet of the Coffee Shops has to offer?” you said eagerly. 

He grinned, reaching for your hand. “Let’s.”

—

Your feet had been dangling dumbly outside of the Tardis, which was orbiting just above coffee addict heaven. You were cradling your billionth cup of coffee today, diluted by obscene amounts of sweet cream and sugar. The barista had mindlessly regurgitated something or other about how it was an original Intergalactic Coffee blend, freshly ground. As your coffee had cooled, your thoughts swirled away from you, captivated by your celestial company. Each star in view shined brightly and beautifully. 

“Might I join you?” the Doctor posed playfully, looking down at you. He captured your gaze as you looked up.

You hummed in response, shuffling over, but even with all the space you gave him, the Doctor planted himself right next to you, so close your shoulders touched.

The brush of his shoulder against yours and his scent, so captivating, so familiar, was enough to assure you. You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you, how mad he was making you. 

“I don’t know if I told you, but can I really like this jumper,” the Doctor said quietly, tugging at your sleeve, then tracing the trail of delicate, floral embroidery with his fingers. “Pretty.”

The bastard! He had to know.

Even so, the teeniest smile tugged at your lips at the admission, “You think so?”

Your heart was sputtering. Jitters.

“Yes!” he says a little too eagerly. “Very pretty.”

God, he was such a dork. 

The Doctor was never forthcoming with you, and very particular with his words. Sure, his mouth could run on and on as he rattled about the Tardis or as he unravelled some extraterrestrial, timey-wimey mystery. But he was never loose-lipped about anything of consequence, but especially anything that touched too closely upon the blurring line of your friendship. Any sort of accidental display of fondness resulted in flushed cheeks and a rambly Doctor, talking in circles trying to remedy his slip, while you just watched, amused. 

No rambly Doctor. You were enraged to learn that he was somehow managing all that coffee better than you. He looked at you expectantly, the teeniest smile at the ends of his lips. Then he frowned, as if in thought.

“Yes?”

The Doctor is nothing if not observant. His fingers brush your temple, and then your cheek as he asserts bluntly, “You’re sad.”

You saw no point in denying, under his sweet, captivating spell of warmth, safety, and assurance. 

You conceded, “Just a little.”

“Hm.”

“Just a smidge,” you added. “Not even a smidge. A teeny, tiny smidgelet.”

The Doctor’s serious demeanour softened. He then scrunched his nose in disbelief, and corners of his eyes crinkled.

“A smidgelet?” he laughed as he swung his feet. Then he adds, “You didn’t like today?”

“No, I loved today,” You were a bit overzealous, upon reflection. “Today was perfect. You, Doctor, were perfect.” That was the problem. He was too perfect. 

“Good.” 

A comfortable quiet fell between you, and you just kept looking at the Doctor.

He was wearing his deep purple waistcoat and bowtie, his coat discarded haphazardly on some rail near the centre console. The Doctor’s floppy brown hair fell just above his delicate brows, and his green eyes—starry. 

The Doctor had offered you all of time and space, and the most magnificent sight had to be his eyes. When he was happy, or rather, when he was with you, they were like the sun, so bright, beaming. Brighter than the field of stars that burned brightly ahead. 

“Pretty,” you offered, your gaze settled on his eyes.

He raised his brow curiously. 

You added, “The stars.” As if you could’ve meant anything, or rather anyone, else, you knew, and he knew. The Doctor was not stupid.

“Oh, right, yes—stars!” He scrambled to find his words. “Very… pretty.”

You smirked. You liked when you could catch him off guard.

“Aah, you!” He waved his hand, dismissing your antics. “On with it. Tell me what’s wrong. I’m going to make it better.” His eyes were set determinedly.

You looked away, toward the swirl of cream that surfaced at the top of the cup you held tightly, the sweet smell beginning to nauseate you. Yuck, you thought to yourself.

“Fine,” You huffed, placing your cup aside, turning back into him.

“Good.”

“I just—” It was then that you began to unravel. “I just, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

You cringed at the way his pretty face crumbled, how his once bright green eyes became downcast and foggy. His breath sputtered and stuttered. You made his sweet hearts stop, and not in the way you’d hoped.

“Doctor, no,” You said, grabbing his hand and placing your other hand on top of your intertwined fingers. “Not like that. Never, ever, like that. Much too fond of you to up and leave.” More than you know, you thought bitterly.

Your breath hitched, realising you were holding his hand. You’ve held hands countless times and yet, never once had it been so… intimate. Urgent. Most of all, you never had been the one who reached out for him. It had always been the Doctor, always him.

You squeezed his hand briefly, just to assure him, and maybe assure yourself too. He perhaps sensed your reluctance, and his fingers tightened their hold.

“Mhm,” He hummed quietly, now resting his head on your shoulder. Your chest burned warm with affection, your heart practically toppling out of your chest, as he pushed himself closer into you. 

Moments passed slowly and peacefully with the Doctor’s fingers intertwined with yours and his head pressed onto your shoulder. Your feet dangled as you took in the beautiful sight.

You whispered, “Look, pretty.” You were talking in circles at this rate. Pretty. The only word you were capable of at this point, it seemed.

He picked up his head, his bright eyes taking in the sight once again with a lopsided smile. “Yes, I see,” He said softly, but then, added rather impatiently: “Will you… will you ever tell me what’s wrong, Y/N?”

It was so silly. You felt completely inadequate with the field of twinkling stars staring back at you. The pretty specks of light smear and blur with the tears pricking your eyes, your whole being aching with jealousy.

You thought about the way the Doctor had pointed the way the stars would twitter, twinkle, and wink. He knew each of them intensely, and so intimately. They were just so beautiful, each star possessing its own unique intensity—how could you compare? 

You could only hope the Doctor would be willing to lend some of his gaze toward you.

You mustered the teeniest bit of courage, “You promise not to laugh?”

“Laugh?”

“Or become cross with me.”

“Cross?”

“Or throw me out, I can compartmentalise, forget this ever happened,” you rambled. “You can too, incredibly well. It’s almost impressive.” 

“Compartmentalise? Y/N, What are you going on about?” He was exasperated. 

You felt your stomach drop. 

“I just—” 

“Yes?” 

“Gah, I wish I could just say it.” 

“Y/N,” He said, rather impatiently. “I love you too.” You finally look at him, gobsmacked! 

Too?! Rather presumptive of him, you wanted to scoff. To be fair, you figured you weren’t exactly subtle.

“Really?” You were stunned. 

“Really,” The Doctor laughed, cutely. So cute, it was almost cruel. 

He was so pretty you thought you were going to die. 

And seemingly out of nowhere, he said, “I’m going to kiss you. That okay?” His fingers reached to cradle your cheek, and the impossibly soft pad of his thumb rubbed circles on the flesh of your thigh. 

You nodded eagerly, needing him, barely managing a shaky “mhm” before the Doctor pressing lovely, sweet kisses to your jaw. To your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth, all the while, humming in response to the pretty noises you make, and laughing through kisses at the way you pulled at his hair.

And finally, he pressed persistent sweet kisses, rather hungrily, to your mouth. 

God, screw the bloody stars. You knew then, you were everything to him.

likes and reblogs and comments appreciated! encourages me to create more content for you! <3

[josiewinters1999]

Doctor Who Fic Reccommendations

9th Doctor

I love you - @alloftheimagines

Just One Yesterday - @lovelyfictional-imagines

10th Doctor

A Noble Ship Embarks - @kisstherainwriting

Now that I saw you, I can never look away - @penguinwithitsarseonfire

Danger Magnet - @thepokyone

Deepest Truth - @quietkatie1864

Are you drunk - @iwritefandomimagines

Having the blues - @doctorslove

The way you look at me - @kisstherainwriting

Make a move - @okay-j-hannah

Snap out of it - @gracesimp

Heartstring - @make-me-imagine

Just like old times - @11thsdoctress

Hear my words - @okay-j-hannah

School Reunion - @starfirette this one is smut

11th Doctor

Deep - @marauder-exe

Little Family - @specialagentlokitty

You make me want things I can't have - @iwritefandomimagines

Touchy - @onceuponachole

You've changed - @11thsdoctress

Starry nights are for coffee and contemplation - @cloginthedrain

My point is... -@11thsdoctress

Is it alright to say what I feel? - @11thsdoctress

12th Doctor

Light in the Dark - @i-imagine-my-doctor

Heartbeat - @morganas-pendragons i cry everytime i read this

A Perfect Day - @quietkatie1864

In Another's Eyes - @cas-kingdom

13th Doctor

Come on in - @fabulouspotatosister

Autistic!reader - @x-neurodivergent-reader

Hidden Colors - @timelord-winchester-22b

[josiewinters1999]

logan howlett x f!reader / inbox

there is just something about logan being a gentleman.

sure he's the definition of rough around the edges and his patience is very thin with most people, but i just know that when he found his woman, he'd be the definition of chivalrous. he's old school: opening the door for you, giving you his jacket when there's even a slight breeze... and he won't mention any of it. he'll do it all wordlessly as if its second nature. and if you do point it out to him he'll just make a snarky comment in return or say nothing, instead wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close to his side because what is there to say? of course he takes care of you. he considers himself damn lucky to be the one to do so.

if some guy was rude to you, or god forbid, hit on you? he'd be on them in seconds, grabbing their shirt and asking them if that's how they think they should be treating a lady. (it's a rhetorical question and a warning. if they give the wrong answer? lets say you'll be cleaning blood off his shirt that night).

on nights where he drives the two of you home, he'll be constantly glancing at the passenger seat, rubbing circles onto your thighs. and if some asshole ran a red, forcing logan to slam on his breaks, his first instinct would be to fling his arm over you, holding you back against the seat. when you wake up from the commotion he'd just run his thumb against your temple and tell you in a hushed voice that "it was nothing, sweetheart. go back to sleep."

if someone on the team brought you up in a negative manner when you weren't there (rare, it would probably just be scott trying to get a rise out of logan) he'd turn red: "don't you talk about her" and "keep her name out of your goddamn mouth". because who the fuck thinks they can talk about his girl??

he's not big on PDA but that doesn't mean he's not touchy. anytime you'd walk up the stairs he'd let you use his arm as your own personal railing. before he left for work in the morning, no matter how late he was, he'd make sure to kiss you on the forehead before he left. and if he had a job where he'd have to wake up at the crack of dawn? he'd make sure to get out of bed as quietly as ever and if you so much as stirred, he'd brush your hair back with a "shhh" and a kiss before he got ready for his long day. but it would be okay because he could get through anything knowing he'd be coming home to you at the end of the day.

anyway as rough as logan can be, he's obsessed with his partner and wants to do nothing more than take care of them. and that my friends makes logan the ultimate gentleman.

a/n: just a little blurb because i am obsessed with this idea. my inbox is open if anyone wants to share more thoughts on logan cause ahhh!!

[josiewinters1999]

Nobody Gets me, You Do

Older!Logan Howlett x Fem Reader (ANGST TO FLUFF)

CW: post Deadpool and Wolverine, breakups, brief mentions of seggs in the past, mentions of alcohol, mention of death, mutual pining, cursing, kissing, angst w/ fluffy ending! Possible spelling and grammar errors

AN: came across this song again after a while of not hearing it and it just all came to me. It came to me very quickly so my apologies if it isn’t up to par with my usual works! 😅 I don’t own the song or characters. If anyone has any requests for our men Logan or Wade, please feel free! My asks are open! Enjoy!! 🥰

The song followed him everywhere since the break up. When he would get in the car, the radio would come on and play it for a few moments before he could switch the station to his usual 80’s rock. When he would come to the bar to drink, it would play at least once per night, making him groan each time he heard it begin to play. Sometimes he would even hear it in the stores he went to, and it pissed him off how much it managed to wedge itself into his brain. It was an ear worm that perfectly managed to place salt on a wound that could never truly heal. Losing you. It was a fitting song he had to admit, recounting the days of when you were together and how you used to cherish every memory and now all he has of you are those memories to look back on. It made his heart wrench in his chest and his throat fill with bile at the thought that he managed to chase you away. The one person who cared for him the most, not only in this time line, but in his previous one too. The only person that brought him a semblance of happiness and he managed to fuck it up completely. He’d come to learn that he was quite good at fucking things up, perhaps it was just the curse he carried with him. He managed to take a healthy relationship, with someone who felt like his most perfect match and fucked it up completely. He hated to admit it, but out of everything, there was one thing the song got right.

“Nobody gets me, you do”

One night he decided enough was enough, the lyrics had been lingering in his mind like a haunting memory. He needed it out, needed to just sit down and fully listen to it so he could rid himself of the sound on repeat. He grabbed his phone, getting lost in the picture of you two together on his lockscreen. You were both so happy then. The way you looked at him with all the love in the world, and the way his hand rested upon your hip that told you he would always keep you safe. The smile that rested on his lips as he looked down at you, it was gorgeous. It wasn’t the best picture, but it was a candid moment Wade managed to capture out on a mission together in the woods. One he’d never forget because it was the last one he’d get with you. Once he could manage to tear his eyes away from the picture, he searched up the song, bracing himself for the emotional rollercoaster that was bound to come with. He gave a deep sigh as he sat up listening to it on the couch, a beer in one hand, looking down at his dog tags that you had given back to him the day you left in the other.

Took a long vacation

No makeup, just Jay-Z

You were balls deep, now we beefin’

Had me butt-naked at the MGM

So wasted screamin’, “Fuck that,”

Love me now, but I’m anythin’

Hurry now, baby, stick it in

‘Fore the memories get to kickin’ in

That portion of the song reminded him of the last time you were intimate together. His mind wandered to the way you both came barreling through your apartment door, so ready to pounce on each other that you could hardly get to the bedroom and decided to do it on your couch. He remembered the giggles of excitement, the gasps, moans and groans as you lost yourselves in one another. He remembered the way that you complained of the pain in your legs and lower back the next day from how long you two stayed up going round for round. He was never very good with intimacy, but with you it felt natural. With you, everything felt natural, everything felt like he was in his own personal heaven.

It’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

Those lyrics hit him the hardest, because they were true. He clung to the last little things he had of you, from the still lingering smell of your perfume on some of his shirts, to the pictures he had of you together in his wallet. Even down to the dog tags he held in his hand. You always kept them tucked under your shirt, keeping it “as close to your heart as you kept him” you would always say. The day you handed them back was the day he knew he lost you for good. He hoped that maybe somehow you still had a space left in your heart for him to reside once more, praying someone else hadn’t come along and taken his place. He couldn’t bear the thought of you with someone else, the thought leaving a sour taste in his mouth. You were his girl, he would always see you that way, even if you didn’t want him anymore.

Took me out to the ballet

You proposed, I went on the road

You was feelin’ empty, so you left me

Now I’m stuck dealin’ with a deadbeat

If I’m real, I deserve less

If I was you, I wouldn’t take me back

I pretend when I’m with a man, it’s you

And I know that it’s too late

I don’t wanna lose what’s left of you

This one wasn’t far off, he understood after everything that he said, after the way he treated you if you didn’t want to take him back. He didn’t even like himself, how could he expect someone to love him in such a state? Closing his eyes, he thought back to the times before your break up, allowing the song to finish.

How am I supposed to tell ya?

I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me

Nobody gets me like you

How am I supposed to let you go?

Only like myself when I’m with you

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

You do

Nobody gets me, you do

Nobody gets me, you do

He released a long shaky breath, feeling his eyes begin to grow wet with tears he hadn’t noticed began to well in his lash line. He tipped his head back after he took a drink of his beer, trying his hardest to fight the tears from escaping but he could only do so much to stop it as the song played on repeat.

“Well, now that’s a sight I never thought I’d see” Wade said, making Logan groan as he took another hefty swig of his drink. “Fuck off” he responded coldly, but of course, this was Wade he was talking to. Things were never that easy with him. “Easy Wolvie, I’m here for you” he said, placing a hand to the man’s shoulder only further agitating Logan as he shrugged it off. “I’m fine” he replied, trying to get him to leave but as usual, his efforts were fruitless. “Yeah, totally. Listening to a sad song on repeat while drinking is exactly the definition I think of when someone says they’re fine” Wade quipped, making him roll his eyes at his sarcasm. “Fuck you” Logan responded, not wanting to put up with his bullshit but lacking the energy to fight back full force. “I still live in my angsty teenage years every now and then, though I didn’t picture this to be the music of choice for you” Wade said. “It’s fuckin’ everywhere. Like I can’t get rid of it. It’s followed me everywhere since…” he started to say before stopping himself, not wanting to share with Wade of all people but he really didn’t have anyone else. “The break up?” Wade asked, making Logan grunt in acknowledgment. “Yeah” he answered.

It happened so long ago now, but he remembered it like it was yesterday, the sour memories of your usually soft, sweet voice screaming at him. The tears that streamed down your face not only from sadness but from anger. It haunted his dreams at night on repeat, hearing those words leave you as you stormed out, and hearing the awful response he only wished he could take back. You had every right to be angry with him, to break up with him like you did. It was his fault after all. He’d left you in one timeline already, dying before you had the chance to even tell him one last goodbye, and then he nearly left you in this one. Sacrificing himself to try and save Wade and his world without a second thought of leaving you behind again. So this time you left him. He couldn’t be mad at you, not when your anger was completely justified. “Want me to invite her over? Give you the chance to talk with her?” Wade asked, genuinely wanting to help. It was a wishful thought, but your relationship didn’t end the way Wade’s did with Vanessa. A simple meet up wouldn’t take back the hurtful words he’d said to you and he knew that. “Even if you did, she wouldn’t want to see me. Not after everything I said that night ” Logan replied, finishing off his beer. “Can’t be that bad! Right…?” Wade asked, making Logan look at him. “Good god man, what did you say?!” He asked, making Logan sigh. “Told her I was just trying to help, but that if she couldn’t handle me and the dangerous shit that comes with me, then to find someone else. You can imagine the rest” he answered, making Wade hiss in pain at the words his roommate said. “Ouch” he commented. “Well…it could still be worth a shot. How long has it been?” He asked. “Eight months, haven’t heard a fuckin’ word from her” Logan replied gruffly. “Double ouch” Wade said, making Logan shoot a glare in his direction. “Oh fuck off. Stupid of me to think you of all people would fucking help” he grumbled angrily. “No, no, no! C’mon you helped me, let me help you. Just trust me and give it a shot” Wade begged him, making him sit and think on it. Or at least pretend to, he didn’t need to think on it, the idea of speaking to you finally after so long left him anxious but he wanted you back so badly. “And if it doesn’t work?” Logan asked gruffly. “You can brutally beat the shit out of me and get black out drunk and forget it even happened” Wade responded, leaving Logan rather skeptical but at least it was worth a try. “Let’s turn off the sad music though, you’re scaring the hoes” Wade joked as he text you and asked you to come over.

When Wade invited you over to his place, Logan could hardly believe that you actually showed up. He figured you would rather be the farthest away that you could possibly get from him after everything that had transpired between you two. Yet there you were, looking as gorgeous as ever. A little tired maybe, like stress had been hounding you for some time, but otherwise you seemed to be doing well. He wished he could say the same about himself but he’d been nothing but a wreck since you left. Your eyes flit across the apartment, subconsciously searching for Logan. You found him in the kitchen, cooking what looked to be his own dinner, seeing as Wade and Althia got high, while drinking a beer, and the sight made your chest grow tight. You missed coming home to see him like that on occasion, missed when he would cook for you, especially on holidays or your anniversary. You thought back to Valentine’s Day when he made you dinner after a rogue mission gone sour, walking into your apartment to the smell of your favorite meal being made after a long and troubling day. You missed coming home to him, sharing your bed with him.

You missed him.

You weren’t sure how to speak to him after everything you’d said, and with the distance between you, you hadn’t spoken to him since the night you left. He could hate you for all you knew. You couldn’t blame him if he did, you’d hate yourself too if you were told the awful things you’d said. You couldn’t help but pray that somewhere deep down in that gruff exterior of his, that maybe he could forgive you. That maybe he would take you back, allow you a chance to apologize and mend what had been broken. The scent of a warm, hand made meal snapped you from your thoughts, filling the air as you bravely stepped into the kitchen. The minute you did, your heart slammed against your chest, unsure of where to go from here. “You came” Logan said, sounding almost surprised to see you here in front of him. You were thankful that he started the conversation for you and spoke first, you felt almost as if all words were trapped in your throat. “You called” you answered surely, looking at him with a kind, almost apologetic smile. “Wasn’t sure if you would” he replied, and it made your heart ache to know you made him feel that way. “I’m here now” you answered softly, your hand coming to rest gently on his upper arm, making him look to you with an expression that held so many emotions you didn’t know which to read first. Tension hung in the air between you as you stood and looked at one another, this was the first time standing before each other in nearly a year. You could see longing in his gaze, sadness in his body language, but an unrelenting passion in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the words to say it. So this time you spoke for him.

“Smells delicious, I see you’re still a wonderful cook” you complimented with a nostalgic smile, trying to start up a conversation the best you could with him to see where you stand. “Want some?” He asked without hesitation, tilting his head towards the food before grabbing a plate for you. You didn’t even need to answer. Maybe he didn’t hate you like you first thought, maybe this could go well after all. You surely hoped it would at least. “That’s your dinner, I don’t want to take it all. I know how much you love that dish, I don’t want to take it from you” you said, reminding him of all the times you would make sure he ate, always fussing over him. At the time he used to tell you he could take care of himself and that you didn’t need to worry yourself over him but now? He’d give anything to hear your sweet voice beg him to eat, to be safe, and take care of himself again. “There’s plenty, bub. ‘sides, I remember how much you liked it too” he replied, making you smile a little at the fact that he remembered how much you liked his cooking before fixing you a plate and then himself one. God you fucking missed him. “Thank you” you responded as you sat down and ate with him in peaceful silence that was only interrupted by the occasional small talk. A few stories here and there, some shared laughs, all almost felt completely natural again. Like you’d fallen back into your normal routine as if it had never been broken, but you knew the pining glances hadn’t gone unnoticed. You needed to talk with him, really talk with him. You couldn’t go about this life without him anymore.

Some time had passed after you both finished dinner, the tension between you and Logan had dwindled a bit as you both made your way over to the couch but there was still an invisible wedge between you. One you weren’t quite sure how to cross. You watched as Wade picked up a set of keys from the kitchen counter and made way for the door, claiming he and Althia were going to get dinner for themselves. “We’ll leave you two alone, but try not to wreck my apartment if you decide to have messy make up sex, ‘kay?” Wade said, making Logan almost snarl in anger and you even shot him a nasty glance. “Wilson!” Logan barked, sending Wade flying through the door with a giggle to be out of his line of sight and potentially his wrath. “He never was the king of reading a room” you said, making Logan scoff in amusement and agreement before taking a swig of his beer. “I did want to talk to you” you both said simultaneously, making you chuckle before you both stumbled over telling the other to go first. It was like being a teenager in love all over again.

“Logan I-“ “you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. I don’t deserve an apology, not after I hurt you” he said, making you look to him with sympathy in your gaze. You knew that you were hard on him, but you didn’t realize truly how hard you’d been. “But you do” you responded softly grabbing his hand in yours, making him look down at your smaller hand wrapped around his much larger one. “I was selfish to be mad at you. I was selfish and cruel for saying the things that I did. What you did was something beyond heroic, something that I’m sure no one else would have ever even contemplated doing, much less actually have done. You did it because you knew what it was like to lose everyone that ever mattered to you in your timeline, and you didn’t want Wade to have to suffer the same” you added. “I was so blind by the thought of losing you again that I didn’t stop to think what a wonderful thing you’d truly done” you continued, shame lacing your tone as you admitted your wrongs, hoping and praying that he would accept your apology as you presented yourself at the most vulnerable you’d ever been. “I should’ve thought of what I would be leaving behind” he tried to say, and you stopped him before he could finish. “No, you have no need to apologize to me or think that way. I was wrong for treating you as if you’d left me that day, because you didn’t, you’re still here. You’re alive” you replied, your hand coming to rest softly on his cheek as you spoke to him, looking deep into his honey brown eyes that enchanted you since the first day you’d met him. “But I hurt you. I screamed at you, said terrible things that I regret every fuckin’ day. You had every right to walk away” he tried to say but again, you weren’t taking it. “Walking away from you was the worst mistake I have ever made, and I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am for making you feel wrong for trying to help someone in the way you helped Wade and this whole timeline” you replied, seeing what looked to be the starts of tears welling in his lash line as he looked to you while you spoke. “I’m so sorry Logan. And I know those words will never be enough undo the wrong and the hurt that I’ve caused but I hope you know that I mean it” you added, searching his eyes for any means of anger, any means of rejection. Yet you didn’t find it. All you found was longing. “I love you Logan. I love you so fucking much and I’m so fucking sorry” you apologized, hands cupping his face softly and tears welling to your eyes as a sob caught in your throat, praying it wasn’t too late to mend the bond you broke. “I’ve missed you so much…I don’t want to live this life, or any life without you in it. Nobody gets me like you” you spoke, your voice cracking slightly as tears streamed down your face. “I don’t want to lose you…” you whispered repeatedly through your cries, feeling him press his forehead against yours gently. “You won’t. I’m here, I’m right here bub” he said, and it was everything you needed to hear for so long.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere bub, I’m here” he assured, making you pull back enough to gaze into his eyes. “You promise?” You asked through sniffles and hiccups from your cries, searching his eyes for deceit but once again, you found none. “I promise. Missed you too much to ever do that” he said, making you smile the best you could through your tears. “C’mere pretty girl” he said, his large hand pulling you in closer before his lips slotted against your own. You were quick to loop your arms around his neck and keep him close against you as you kissed him back. It was passionate, filled with desire and warmth but intimate all the same. You chased each other’s lips with your own, not caring for the need for air that made your lungs burn from oxygen deprivation, caring more for the way you finally had one another again. Once you did part, you both panted to try and catch your breath, looking to one another as if to ask what next. “Think this belongs to you” he spoke, holding his dog tags out to you, making you chuckle as you looked down at them. “Are you sure?” You asked, but before you could even finish asking, he was already slipping it over your head, admiring the way it dangled from your neck. “Never been more sure” he answered, making you smile as you held it in your hand before kissing him once more. “I don’t deserve you” you said, pressing your forehead against his once more. “No, I don’t deserve you” he said, making you chuckle. “Yet we get each other in every timeline. Funny how that works, isn’t it?” You replied, making him laugh. “Wouldn’t want it any other way” he responded making you hum as you closed your eyes to enjoy the peacefully intimate moment with him. “Good, I don’t wanna see you with anyone but me” you said, making him laugh again at the irony that it was a lyric from the song that haunted him for the past eight months. “Don’t worry, never gonna happen” he responded, and for a moment he understood the perfect response.

“Nobody gets me like you, bub”

[josiewinters1999]

First Kiss With Logan:

Pairings: (DP3 Vers.) Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you seek comfort from Wade who threw you a ‘Cherry Popped’ party. It ends up making you feel worse, which leads you into the arms of a man who’s grown fond of you. Logan.

Warnings: Kissing, talking about bad date, cursing, brief mentions of drinking, innuendos to "cherry popping", use of the word virgin. Self-deprecating talk in some areas, from both reader and Logan.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2,388

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You hated that you found yourself, seated across from a man who, frankly, hadn't asked you a single question about yourself all night. You also hated how much this man yapped. God, all he did was talk and talk without even the slightest breath. And you hated that you continued to stay seated. Perhaps you were too kind, or maybe you thought you had no right to leave. After all, the man was buying you dinner. It was hard to shake that kind of guilt. You knew you owed him nothing, that it's okay to leave a shitty date- but a part of you wondered if this was all you had going for you. A shitty date, with a shitty man on a shitty afternoon.

As you spaced out your thoughts drifted back to Logan, you wondered if dates with him were like this. What if they weren't? What if he was kind? Well, slightly kinder than normal. He didn't strike you as the pull-your-chair-out-for-you kinda guy, but you had a feeling he would ask you questions instead of yapping your ear off. Maybe he would ask about your day at work, or what you like to do in your free time. Possibly he'd like to hear funny stories about your family. No, that felt too intimate for a first date. Maybe on a third date you'd share those stories with him.

God, what are you even on about right now? You're on a date with a man buying you dinner and you're thinking about Logan! As your eyes looked over the man, you finally tuned back into what he was saying.

"My ex was fucking crazy! That bitch-"

Aaanndd, you lost interest immediately. The more this dude spoke, the more of a dick he sounded. You couldn't help but feel thankful when the date ended. However, the chime of your phone caught your attention during the walk back to your apartment.

'Hey, sugar tits.' Wade's text read. 'Come over, we're celebrating you getting your cherry popped!' That dick knew you weren't a virgin, he just wanted a damn reason to celebrate. What better way to celebrate then partying over your friend not getting laid? It was a cruel joke you really weren't in the mood for but the image of Logan blowing up balloons with Blind Al, a smile just barely tugging at his usually grumpy face...it was hard to say no too. And Wade knew that- its why he sent you the picture after all.

"Fucking dick." You murmured to yourself as you wrapped your cardigan around you tighter, pushing the front door to Wade's apartment open as you did so. The sight was ridiculous, balloons, streamers, wall decor, banners that read 'Pop That Cherry!' draped off the ceiling. You took a mental note to punch Wade in his smart-ass lip later. But, for now, it was nice being in the comfort of your friends. Yes, even the snarky teenager Negasonic and her girlfriend. You were a teenage girl once, but it still didn't stop you getting annoyed when she nitpicked your outfits. It isn't your fault baggy sweaters and legging were literally a godsent.

You trudged your way through the crowded apartment, hand adjusting your white sweater to cover the tank top under it a little better. As you approached Logan and Wade, you grew more aware of the length of your skirt. Was it too long? Too short? Would Logan think it looked good? God, why did you even care what Logan Howlett, labeled the worst wolverine, thought of you? You didn't think he was the worst wolverine. You'd never say it, of course not, because then he'd know you actually liked being around him! Perhaps it was selfish of you to keep yourself so guarded around him, but you couldn't shake the fear of letting down your walls and risking getting hurt. It was scary. Losing that much control. And over what, a feeling?

A hand extending towards you caught your attention, it was Logan, offering you a drink.

"Thank you." You spoke to him, voice quiet compared to the blaring pop music Wade was playing. He grunted in response, but you swear you heard a 'you're welcome.' You brought it to your lips, casually slow sipping the alcohol over the course of the night. It was fun to dance with Vanessa as Wade and Peter tried to convince Logan to join the group. You couldn't help the laugh on your lips when Wade made a snarky comment about Logan's panties being in a twist, earning a threatening unsheathing of claws from logan. You never fully understood the shame Logan felt, even though you tried incredibly hard to. To you, he was amazing, he was strong, he was...well, to say you only admired him would be a lie.

You wished you could show Logan the way you saw him, the way the world saw him. Sure, he was hot, unnecessarily hot, with large biceps and shoulders that went for days. But he was more than that. He was a grump who pushed people away out of fear of hurting them. And to prevent himself from getting hurt. It was ironic, really. Perhaps you and him were more alike than you thought. After a while in the overstimulating party, you slipped away, moving to stand on the balcony. You hadn't been there long, probably thirty minutes? It was nice, listening to your friend's party as you took a break to look at the city.

"Thought I'd find you here." Logan's rough voice spoke as he walked out onto the balcony, shutting the door behind him.

You hummed in response, flashing him a smile as you looked away. Logan could feel his heart skip a beat at your smile- it was always nice when you graced him with it. He'd give anything to see you smile. Hell, he wished he could make you smile and laugh the way Wade and Vanessa did. They matched your morbid sarcastic humor easily. Something he struggled to do. He approached you, leaning onto the railing beside you.

"Congrats on the...uh..."

"I'm not a virgin."

"Oh..."

The silence was awkward between you. You had to purse your lips to prevent you from bursting out in a laugh. You found it hilarious how just one statement suddenly made him go quiet.

"Wade had-" You spoke, trying to stifle your laugh with your hand. "Wade thought it would be funny to throw a 'cherry popped' party because it's been forever since my last date." You revealed, not able to contain your laugh any longer. "It's actually kinda sweet. In a weird way, ya know, Wades weird way." The corners of Logan's mouth lifted slightly at the sound of your laugh. It had always been his favorite sound after meeting you.

"Guess so." Logan contributed to the conversation, bringing the glass beer bottle to his lips. You looked at logan watching as he looked over the city, your eyes analyzing him. His jaw, his hair, the crow's feet by his eyes from his constant state of scowling. Maybe it was the liquid courage you had drank. Or you finally just decided to give Logan a sense of affection. You loved to shower your friends with affection, often times holding Wade as you two watched tv, or Vanessa sitting on your lap as you gossiped. Logan had seen it plenty of times. God, sometimes you even gave Peter affection. Each time he felt a twinge of jealousy, he wanted to be the object of your affectionate touches. Or the way you murmured praise directed at them after a task- he wanted that.

Your hand reached up, gently soothing out some strands of his beard that were in disarray. Logan tensed under your touch, and you immediately pulled away, guilt and embarrassment swarming you.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." You adamantly apologized, face heating up.

"Don't worry about it." Logan roughly said, silently regretting the way you withdrew so quickly. He watched as you tried to subtly put some distance between the two of you- the sting of rejection clear as day on your face. He hadn't meant to reject you; you were reading too much into it. His mind sidetracked as he looked away, maybe he was the one reading too much into it? "How was your date?" He settled on asking, bringing the beer to his lips.

"Shitty." You sighed, frowning.

Logan nodded, waiting for you to continue. Silence falls between you two and he flashed you an expectant glance. You hadn't realized he wanted you to keep talking until he looked at you.

"Oh, uh, there isn't really much to say." You shrugged, looking away. "He didn't ask any questions, just talked about himself the whole time. Was super annoying too." Logan couldn't help the satisfaction that welled in his chest upon hearing your defeated words. It sucked for you, of course it did. But Logan was so glad the date was bad- that way no one could come in, sweep you off your feet, and away from him. He hadn't made a move on you, and he couldn't decide if he ever would. He didn't want to risk hurting you like he had done the others he cared for.

However, the glance of tiredness in your expression when you had looked at him momentarily...he hated it. He hated himself for being so happy your date was bad, and he hated that he wasn't the one you wanted to sweep you off your feet.

"Like...it isn't hard to make a girl feel special. To make her feel like a princess." You laughed with a shake of your head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just expecting too much?" You looked at Logan as you asked, a need for reassurance present.

Logan stared at you; brows furrowed as he analyzed you. The scowl on his features prominent. Believing you had said too much, or you annoyed him with your ramblings, an apology escaped your lips.

"Fuck, sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Princess." Logan's comment snapped you from your rushed apology. "Relax." He had taken that brave step closer to you, facing you fully as his side and arm holding the beer leaned against the balcony railing. He was glad you were comfortable enough to unload that on him and he was determined to keep it that way. "I don't mind." You looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly pursed as your mind ran. That was another thing he liked about you. It was so easy to tell if you were thinking. Your eyebrows always furrowed, your lips pursed into a line, and your eyes always spoke a thousand words.

Despite his better judgement, his hand rose, gently flattening the skin between your eyebrows. The gesture was small, yet it held so much intimacy. You had always been picky about who could touch you. You loved to shower your friends with affection, but rarely ever let anyone reciprocate it back. Logan wondered why that was. What had affected you so much that you refused to let anyone even shake your hand. Here he was, though, thumb moving from the area between your eyebrows to his hand cupping your cheek. Your eyes were wide, your throat dry. You had never expected this from him. This gentleness, the way he had observed your furrowed brows...you leaned your face into his hand, unable to help the way you melted into it. It was a chilly night, and, God, was he warm.

Logan closed the distance between the two of you, now standing directly in front of you. His thumb caressing your cheek. As he stared into your eyes, his gaze couldn't help but flicker down to your lips, a red faded stain on them from the lipstick you had worn to your date. They looked so soft, so enticing. And he couldn't help but wonder if that peppermint chapstick you wore 24/7 worked. He had never been one for chapstick, but you seemed obsessed with it. Logan's thumb slipped from where it rubbed your cheek to your bottom lip, slowly tracing it. You subconsciously licked your lips as he traced them, your chest tight. Why was it suddenly so difficult to breathe? Your throat was beyond dry, your face paled under his gaze yet somehow it felt like your blush deepened. The way his eyes analyzed your lip, your eyes, your nose, that mark you had since you were a child...It was like he was memorizing you.

You wanted to say something, anything. Preferably something sarcastic and witty. No words came to your lips regardless of the fact that your mind was working overdrive. Time slowed as his thumb gently pulled your lip down, encouraging your mouth to part as his hand cupped your chin now, guiding you closer to him. He leaned down, face inches from yours. He paused there, however, waiting for your permission because he knew that you needed that variation of control to feel safe. He wanted to make you feel safe, he wanted you to know you were safe. That he had you. You brushed your lips against his, slightly closing that gap between you two. He took that as permission as he pressed his lips to yours fully. It was gentle at first, as if he was scared that at any moment you'd disappear. Or worse, break.

Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him close as you held onto him. His hands finally rested around your waist, the kiss growing stronger as he deepened it. People claim that you would feel fireworks during a kiss, but that wasn't the case at all. You felt electricity against your skin that was against him, but the most powerful feeling was how right it felt. Like you were meant to be there, in his arms, kissing him, holding him. He had broken the kiss, opening his eyes to stare at you.

Logan wondered if he'd ever be able to let another person get close to him. He was certain Wade would've been the only one- a victim of the circumstance's kind of thing. But he sure as hell was glad that today he was the one who held you attention as he pressed another kiss to your lips.

[josiewinters1999]

Logan as a retired family man

I've always seen logan as a man who would settle in a smalltown looking for some goddamned peace and tranquility, that he never seems to get lol. I was also craving some domestic Logan, a man who gave up fighting and is now more focused on his family but knows that deep down he can't escape who he is and how many enemies he has.

This can be interpreted as either m!reader/f!reader/gn!reader, the newborn is either biological, adopted or another of Logan's clones this time mixed with reader's dna.

tags: domestic logan, f!reader or m! reader or gn!reader, logan being a dad, lumberjack logan.

Retired!Logan who hung his claws and now lives a peaceful life in a cabin in the woods close to a small town with you, Laura and your newborn daugther.

Retired!Logan who gets a job as a lumberjack and insists on maintaining you all and covering the bills, despite you having your own job.

Retired!Logan who grows a beard because he knows you like it and thinks it'll help him go unnoticed by the townsfolk (As if he wasn't a giant burly man with a 24/7 pissed off face).

Retired!Logan who keeps training in the woods because he lives in a perpetual estate of paranoia and fear that someone is out there to get his little family, because he still believes he doesn't deserve to be this happy.

Retired!Logan who is teaching Laura to hunt and fight; and hopefully, one day he'll train the littlest one as well because he's extremely overprotective of you all.

Retired!Logan who sometimes feels the urge to let his primal instincts run wild and hunts some prey with his bare hands and claws; afterwards he will clean, skin and serve his prize at the family barbecue in the backyard.

Retired!Logan who has to be basically dragged to any town events, but goes anyway because he knows you'll be there with him, supporting him through the entirety of the dreaded social event. Hadn't it been for you and the girls, he would have become the local hermit.

Retired!Logan that doesn't love anything more than to return home after a long and tiring day at work and hug his family. He'll help you serve dinner, will play with the girls and will clean up with you afterwards. He has become so domesticated, he's sure he won't get to hear the end of it from his fellow X-Men, but he's too happy to care.

Retired!Logan who every morning drives his little girls to school before work just to make sure they arrive safely and will kiss them goodbye, shooting death glares to anybody that dares to look them wrong.

Retired!Logan who likes to enjoy a beer with you on the porch after putting the girls to bed. He was never one to care much for stargazing, only for orientation, but just watching them with you, with only the sounds of nature surrounding you, made him more appreciative. And, as a bonus, sometimes (always) that stargazing turns into something more... passionate.

Retired!Logan who much to his chagrin has become some sort of local celebrity/urban legend after he defenestrated some punks that had tried to rob the town's diner where you were casually having lunch.

Retired!Logan who wonders how the fuck did he, of all people, get so goddamn lucky. How he gets to have all of this without any consequences.

Retired!Logan who knows without a hint of doubt that shall danger come to tear you three away from him, he will be waiting for it, claws out and ready.

[josiewinters1999]

I have an idea ✋ Logan with a artistic partner. Whether they are a dancer, singer, whatever. He would be the MOST supportive man ever. He'd go to every performance, every gallery showing, you name it he's there. The whole "That's my partner" to a random stranger thing

Ooo I love this!

Logan Howlett With A Singer / Song Writer S/O Headcannons

I ended up writing this as headcannons. I wrote this with a fem reader in mind (I'm female), but I'm pretty sure this could be read as gn as well. I also wrote this to fit any version of Logan. Hope you like it 🩷

Logan never misses a performance.

He loved hearing your voice.

Whether that be talking or singing, he could listen to you all day every day.

Watching you come alive on stage and seeing you smile is the highlight of his day.

The second best thing is when you run over to him when the show is over and it's time to go home, you always give him the biggest hug and he loves it so much.

He owns all of your albums.

Absolutely will not let you give them to him for free.

HE IS BUYING THEM no exceptions.

He know how how hard you work, not only on writing the songs in the first place but also actually bringing them to life in the recording studio.

Speaking of the studio, he feels like he is in heaven when you invite him to watch you record your singing. It's so raw, he adores the emotion you put into your songs.

He is so incredibly proud of you.

Logan smiles so much at your shows and just being with you in general. Even when you're not singing or on stage, he can't help it.

He's never been this happy before.

Logan will absolutely brag to the person standing next to him, saying,"That's my partner!"

His nickname specifically for you is Nightingale because of your sweet singing voice.

Other nicknames include angel, princess, baby, babydoll, sweetheart and darlin

You tend to talk Logan down after he's had a nightmare.

You're very good at grounding him.

Sometimes, when Logan has had a particularly bad nightmare, he will ask you to sing for him and how could you refuse.

[josiewinters1999]

Bloody Kisses

(Drabble)

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Summary: Logan's pain kink headcanon turned up to 11

Contains: GORE, EXPLICIT SMUT, blood, violence, some slight fluff, some slight degredation

A/N: You all wore me down... so I'm posting it... This is actually my first time writing this sort of content and... I'm very nervous... I don't think I'll ever do it again but I find beauty in this type of thing, where you love someone so much, you just want every part of them. Like cuteness aggression for adults lol. Please do not read if underage!!

She sat bouncing on his hips, full to the brim with her sweet, sweet James. Even after all this time, she’d never get enough of him. Atop her throne, she looks down at him, through the haze of her own high, watching as his glistening face twists and contorts in agony and ecstasy. 

Looking down at her hands, firmly inside his waist, she watches the way his healing skin attempts to close around the fingers that dug themselves knuckle deep into him. The squeeze of the muscles with every needy, desperate breath he takes adds to the sensation of the entire experience. 

His entire torso was red, the blood from her scratches the only evidence she had attempted to rip him apart. Beneath the pads of her fingers she feels the slippery, hot, smooth metal ribs just beneath the surface. They rise and fall with every exhale of his lungs. 

Logan grips onto her waist with feigning strength. She wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this, the pain and the pleasure threatening to send him unconscious. Yet he urges her on, his hips bucking up into her own, his fingers digging into her flesh, telling her something his words can’t. 

As the pressure builds in her, her fingers dig deeper into him, feeling his organs shift beneath her touch, her hands curling around the bones. Unable to do anything else, Logan throws his head back into the pillows, a guttural scream ripping from his throat. 

His eyes nearly roll into his skull as he whimpers, “Fuck baby… keep going.” How could she deny him when he so pathetically whines under her like a common whore? Picking up the pace of her bouncing, she puts more of her weight into each downward hit. The sound of skin, wet with a myriad of fluids, fills the air. Her moans and groans mix with his as she makes him come undone beneath her, like a fine symphony. 

She can feel Logan getting close to his end, his hands gripping her a little tighter, using the last of his strength to surely leave bruises. His feet plant themselves firmly on the bed as he picks up his own pace, adamantium pelvis giving him more momentum in his push and pull. 

Craning his head to look at her, he locks eyes with his lover. His brows knit so tight together, they were nearly touching. He almost seemed angry, if his mouth weren’t gaping open like a baby bird. Nails digging into the meat of her ass, he demands, “More.” She pushes her fingers into his waist more, slipping between the ribs, ripping through whatever guts were below. He screams again, gritting his teeth almost to the point of breaking. Tomorrow, he’d surely be getting a call from the neighbors about noise. 

Looking between them, both see her hands, her fingers having completely disappeared inside his abdomen. Nothing but the backs of her palms are visible as they continue slamming into one another. Logan moans at the sight, voice nearly cracking as he curses, “Fuckin’ Christ…”  He lifts a hand off her behind to grab her chin. Forcing her to look him in the eye once more, he growls against her lips, “More…” 

She lunges forward to press her mouth against his, teeth hitting his, as if to say yes of course. Each groan into the kiss, teeth scratching and biting against the other’s lips. Eventually, she travels down his jaw, licking the salty sweat from his beard. She nudges her nose against his throat, feeling the pulsing of his heart through her skin. 

Opening her mouth, she sinks her teeth into the slick flesh, chomping as hard as her jaw will allow. Another scream from James’ lips, another falter in his hips, like a hiccup in his movements before he picks up the pace again. It isn’t long before she tastes the hot metallic fluid of his blood on her tongue. 

Biting harder, she feels the flesh separate against her teeth, like biting into a rare steak. With a mouth full of her lover, she sits up roughly, taking a chunk of him with her. Turning her head to the side, she spits it out, the sound of it hitting the floor overpowered by the pained moans of the man it came from. His throat spews like a fountain, soaking the bed around it.

Logan looks up at her, like he’s about to pass out, the hole in his neck already closing up. Blood gushes onto the sheets as he smiles weakly up at her, his climax coming closer and closer. She smiles down at him, her mouth and teeth red, dripping down her chin. He’d never seen anything more beautiful, his literal lifeblood smeared across her mouth like lipstick. He makes a mental note to take her shopping later, hoping to get a lip shade the same as the one she’s currently wearing. 

Reaching up once more, he fists his hand in her hair, forcing her back down onto his mouth. He can taste himself on her, taste the blood she drew from his veins. The flavor mingles with the salt of her sweat, sending him completely over the edge. He growls once more down her throat, his hips bucking up one last time, emptying himself inside her. The sensation pushes her over with him and she grips into his ribs one more time, screaming along with him. 

With all life sucked out of her, she collapses onto Logan’s sticky chest, the blood mingling with the sweat to form a glue between them. Reaching up much more gently than before, he carefully removes her hands from inside his skin, groaning one last time at the pain of her tearing him apart. He lets them go at her side, the wound she left immediately closing behind her. 

They lay on the soaked, stained, sheets, a panting mess, in a most literal sense. Logan takes a shaky hand to smooth the curve of her wet spine, the skin cooling in the night air. He turns his head to kiss her hair, his lips surely depositing some of the blood she transferred onto them. 

He chuckles, “That was…” he can’t even finish, words not fitting of the spiritual experience he just had. He can feel her smile against his shoulder, now completely healed, as if she hadn’t just bit him like a zombie. A huff comes from his newly healed lungs, a sigh of relief, “Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my fuckin’ life…” 

This time it’s her turn to chuckle, but the exhaustion in her chest prevents her from speaking. Wrapping his arms tighter around his woman, James leans down into her ear, deep voice vibrating through to her heart, “We gotta do that again sometime…”

[josiewinters1999]

I love you.

Imagine Logan refusing to admit he loves you.

Love. It can destroy someone. So why fall in love in the first place. Why go through a heartbreak when you could just avoid it. That’s what Logan kept telling himself as he watched you from the window. You were outside teaching a class and Logan had spotted you when he was walking down the corridor. He stood thinking to himself. Your hair looked so lovely as the sun beamed onto you. Your eyes glistened with pride as you stood infront of the young minds you teach. Everything about you was just, beautiful. What was he thinking. Love was forbidden in his life now. It just led you down and endless road of despair. So why did he feel like his heart was about to explode whenever you were near. Like for a moment his life was complete.

It can’t be love. He thinks to himself. He won’t allow it. But you made it so damn hard to allow him to keep the feelings away. The way you’d run a hand soothingly up his arm if he was having a bad day. How you’d ensure him and the students had eaten at some point in the day. If a mission went wrong you’d be right there helping him. Just everything about you was perfect. And that annoyed him because he couldn’t stay away.

He shakes his head as he walks getting frustrated with himself. Hes scared, he’s confused, he’s angry. He grips his hair in frustration his head pounding as the emotions stir into one big headache. Thats when he walks into someone. “Logan, what’s wrong?” That sweet voice that sounds like a angels choir. The deadly soft hands that take his own into there’s. The eyes he looks up at that remind him of the finest gems. “Logan tell me what happened” you were worried about him and all he could do was deny it all, his eyes search you in plea to rid the emotions until something snaps inside him. Why deny something that brought him pain to push away.

He removes his hands from yours but you have no time to react as he lifts them to cup your face. That’s when everything disappears inside his head. No fear, no confusion, no anger. Then, just then, he lets it go “I love you”