manicandobsessive

[manicandobsessive]

dystopic fiction isnt prophetic it is just social commentary on current events dystopic fiction isnt prophetic it is just social commentary on current events dystopic fiction isnt prophetic it is just social commentary on current events dystopic fiction isnt prophetic it is just social commentary on current events!!!!!!

[manicandobsessive]

Icarian | L.H.

Chapter 2: July

“But you arrived like sunlight in the gloom. And burned off the haze when the year was still new. Keeping me going, how you show up like July.” Andrew Hozier Byrne

Ch 1. > Ch. 2 > Ch. 3

Warnings: swearing, pet names, pure fluff, seriously it’s so sweet, mutual pining, no use of y/n

A/N: i have returned!!! apologies for how long this took, i went back and made a plan and outlined chapters and whatnot. i really love this one i hope you guys enjoy it! <3

WC: 4.1K

“Logan! I swear to fucking-”

“Swearin’ to what now, sweetheart?” The man asked with a smug grin. Logan was leaning over the railing of the mansions’ staircase, two floors up from where you stood. You scoffed at him in irritation, absolutely exasperated with his behavior. Which only further fuelled his amusement.

“Fucking get your ass down here.” You grit out through clenched teeth, even more agitated at the deep rumble of his laugh in response. It wasn’t so much his behavior that angered you, but the desire that burned beneath it. Every chuckle he let out sent shivers down your spine, every smile made the hair on your neck stand on end. It was pathetic, if not for the fact that it was Logan.

It’d been no more than three months since Logan suddenly showed up. Three months since you and had him clicked instantaneously. You could confidently say at the current point in time he was your closest friend.

And at times your worst enemy. For example, this moment exactly.

If there was one thing you’d learned in the period of time you’d spent getting to know the mystery that was Logan Howlett, it was that he absolutely loved to instigate. A sucker for drama if you’d ever met one. And while, yes, you and him terrorized Scott frequently. He seemed to love getting a reaction out of you independently.

He soon learned with great pleasure that you gave back as good as you got. He reveled in it. Logan annoyed the living hell out of you at times, but simultaneously- you were too in deep. Somehow his ridiculousness- his unwavering immaturity, only made him more appealing. ‘

And sure, maybe you’d fallen a little deeper than friendship. But you assured yourself it wasn’t like that to him. You guys were friends, best friends. That was it. That was all it ever would be.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Everyone saw it. Everyone around both of you knew. Seemingly, Logan and you were the only oblivious ones.

Logan walked through those halls like ten tons had been lifted from his body. He no longer hunched his shoulders. He didn’t stomp from point A to point B subconsciously. He even went so far as to say a brief greeting to those he passed by. You, the same. While you never were as outwardly reluctant to social interaction as Logan had been, there was a notable exchange. The other X-men, who’d known you more closely, had seen your distaste for being cooped up at all times flip to being almost excited to stay inside. There was a skip in your step. You smiled more. Logan hung outside the confines of his room more often.

And when you were in a room together, it was good luck to everyone else. There had been a bond that always existed, you two just had to find each other.

On the downside, both of you having been stubborn fucks prevented any further growth of the relationship.

Logan was aware. He was, in fact, way too aware of the effect you had on him. Seeing as he’d stuck around for three months straight. No plans for anything else. Not even a thought or consideration of leaving, not while he knew you would be here. He wouldn’t be able to, he thought. He felt this invisible thread practically tethering him to you. It was something that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t shake. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to in the first place. You had been a light, and not just to him- but to everyone. You were oblivious to the way you lit up a room. The way your warmth had effortlessly radiated to those around you. A simple flash of your smile made his day.

He often wondered if that was your mutation. If you weren’t really just a human, and you had some unknown gene of heightened empathy. How he wished he could match that level of gentleness.

Logan was burdened by his mutation. Originally, he planned on making sure you’d never find out. He was convinced you’d never accept him the way he is.

But that didn’t happen. The day you’d found out was one he’d never forget.

~

“Fucking shoot me then!”

His voice echoed through the halls. Claws extended and all. The whole nine.

He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through his adamantium skeleton. His heart thudded behind the cage of his chest- he knew in that moment exactly what he needed to do.

A few of Strykers’ men charged at him- apparently with the lack of knowledge that he could, in fact, not die. Logan took their bullets like they were nothing but a mere inconvenience. He felt no more than an itch from them, after all. He sliced through the men one-by-one. Not a single fucker survived. He’d be damned if he let someone danger the entirety of the mansion.

The rest of the X-men appeared, all at the front door at one time. Seemingly having taken care of the remaining nuisances from the outside. Logan tensed and whipped around. His hostility was evident in the way his muscles contracted under his thin tank top and how his claws stayed extended.

“We took care of the rest.” Ororo stepped forward, speaking up after a moment of silence between the group and Logan. Who seemed less than thrilled at their lack of assistance.

“Thanks for the help.” Logan grunted sarcastically, having been already pissed at the intrusion. Now, even more so at the fact that he took the blows of most of the men. The team seemed to always rely on him. His healing, his strength, his violence. He felt partially used, when he cared to look into it. But most of the time, he didn’t give enough of a shit.

His eyes scanned over the group of X-men: Jean, ‘Ro, Summers, hell- even Chuck.

Pause. Where the fuck were you?

He spoke your name in a whisper. It was soft, almost intelligible, and his heart began racing yet again with the idea that they could’ve gotten to you. He was under the impression you were an X-man of course. Why wouldn’t you be?

He never would’ve assumed you were any less than the others. You radiated the confidence of someone ten times more powerful than any of his teammates combined. He respected you beyond words. And of course, he found himself caring more than he should. More than he could deny.

Your soft spoken- slightly raspy from sleep- voice calmed his frantic movements in an instant. His shoulders dropped to his sides with the breath he let out. One he wasn’t even aware he was holding. Damn you had him whipped.

“Y’alright?” You rasped with half lidded eyes and a yawn. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your knuckles, a movement he’d noticed you do when you’re tired. You furrowed your eyebrows in crystal clear confusion. Having slept like the dead through the entire event of the night.

Logan huffed the smallest of laughs. An imperceptible smile playing on his lips. You’d have thought he’d seen a ghost with the expel of air that left his body, loudly at that.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his, still reflecting light off of them in the dead of night. You weren’t scared, just- surprised. And obviously still half asleep. You had no idea what mutation Logan harbored. Clearly, he’d had one. He was much stronger than the average man, and a million times bigger. Figuratively and literally with the way he towered over most of the tenants of the mansion. But that was the extent of your knowledge. You never thought to ask, as you gathered from your first few interactions that he wasn’t one to just open up. But you trusted that he would eventually.

He retracted them almost immediately at the look on your face. Standing frozen in the middle of the common area. He was bracing himself for the reaction that was bound to occur. He was used to it, people running from him. People being scared. Calling him a monster.

Didn’t make it sting any less.

The last thing he wanted was for you to be scared of him. He softened his posture, an attempt to seem less intimidating. Which he couldn’t really do if he tried his absolute best. It was in his nature to be on the defense. So naturally, when you blinked, your eyes opened wide in shock- his walls were built high.

You took the first step. Walking downstairs in the most graceful manner, at least from Logan’s point of view. Anything you did was perfect to him. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but you looked like an angel.

You composed yourself. Determined to make sure the man knew you weren’t scared of him. To show him that this didn’t change any part of how you saw him whatsoever. You could sense it from the moment he’d made eye contact with you. You quickly pieced together the reason he didn’t tell you what his mutation was in the first place. He was afraid. But you wouldn’t have that. Not with Logan.

You silently walked up to him, resting a hand on his arm. He tensed just slightly. Afraid of the next thing, the next word. You looked at his face. A small smile gracing your own. He refused to meet your eyes, he focused more on your hand. The one now comforting him in the smallest of touches.

“Logan.”

You spoke in such a manner that he could never ignore you. Doesn’t matter if it were life or death. He’s not sure if the world was ending that he could ignore your sweet voice to save it. To that, he turned his head just slightly. Meeting your soft eyes, which made his own soften in return.

“Sweetheart,”

He spoke so rough, so rugged. He seemed like he was on a mission to make you flinch away. To prove himself right yet again. But you were nothing if not stubborn. And he wasn’t going to get you to back off that easily.

“I’m not scared of you.” You took the words straight out of his mouth. He stood there, soft eyes, his mouth agape. His expression was one of relief and surprise. He wasn’t sure why he doubted you in the first place. You with your unwavering kindness, your beautiful soul. Something that even a blind man could see.

His mouth opened and closed a few times. He felt like a stupid fuck. He was left with no words to say. No attempts to push you back, it was useless. You and him both knew it to be. Plus, he was in no rush to let you go.

“I’m not scared. Not of you, Logan.” You repeated. Stern but gentle, just like every other aspect of your being.

To your surprise, he smiled. He looked into your eyes with his own and he flashed you that grin that only few got the luxury of seeing. It wasn’t prideful. It wasn’t cocky. It was a smile of appreciation, something to convey what words couldn’t express. He’d only hoped you’d gotten the message.

And while you two were no more than friends, your approval seemed to be the only thing that mattered to Logan.

~

From that day on, Logan hung around like a shadow. The two of you were inseparable and even more so, unstoppable. It was clear that this wasn’t some typical surface-level relationship. Whatever was between you two ran deep, and it was only a matter of time before it became more.

You were something to Logan that was unable to be disregarded. Like a light straight to the great beyond. Like you were created for him and him alone. He so desperately needed to keep it in his clutches. Even if he was dead-set on never falling in love. He had to have you around in some capacity, though it was hard not to let himself dive in head first.

You made even the darkest days feel like the brightest, no matter what you did. Simply existing near you whether it be watching TV or silently admiring you, made Logan’s mood instantly become brighter. The whole of the mansion noticed. Charles being the first, of course.

Logan warned him from the start. He was stubborn enough to go as far as telling Scott he’d sew his mouth shut if he so much as teased either of you. He wanted no part in making anyone think you two were more than close friends. Despite his wild imagination creating a perfect world where he wasn’t concerned you’d get hurt because of him. A world where his past was merely a memory and you were his present. One where the two never mingled.

As long as he kept you at as much a distance as he could, he could keep from worrying himself sick. Didn’t mean he wanted to though. He craved to be closer to you. To hold you, kiss you, know you inside and out. The three months you two had been like this, it had only gotten significantly worse. And his desperation was even more conceivable to the naked eye.

~

Ororo, on the contrary, had a blast teasing you.

“So,” She began, pretending to innocently be catching up with you. You were more than accustomed to her nosy behavior. Her meddling didn’t bother you, it was amusing so to speak. But when it came to Logan, that was a sensitive subject. And you were well aware that she was all in on the drama when the pair of you were involved.

“How’s he been?”

You scoffed, your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head. Perhaps an attempt at seeming indifferent to the situation when you knew damn well your heart sped up at the mere thought of him.

“Drop it.”

“Drop what? He’s been around you more than anyone, it’s a simple question.”

You almost laughed at her terrible acting skills. Almost being the key word, if you weren’t so reluctant to ruin the precious bond you had with the man. Ororo wasn’t exactly known for subtlety, at least for you. She was a close friend, definitely the person you confided in the most at the mansion, even if it wasn’t much. If you were to tell anyone about this infatuation, willingly, it would be her.

It was just infatuation, right?

She could sense the gears turning in your head. A smirk plastered on her face at the sight. You looked down before muttering out a response.

“Just, he’s a good guy is all.”

“Mhm, a good guy who you wanna-”

You were swiftly interrupted by a rumble of another voice. The sound now a distinct indicator of who had entered the room.

“Whaddya wanna do?” Logan quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe with the corner of his mouth twitching. A dumb attempt to hide his smile. His arms crossed over his chest, as they always were. He seemed to love making appearances like that. At least from what you’d known. The creak of the floor as he sauntered towards the two of you made you take a deep breath in and out. One you’d hoped he hadn’t caught.

He flopped into a recliner, his arms on both armrests and his legs sprawled. It made your entire body feel like it was on fire, the way he could do the most basic of motions and look effortlessly attractive. It was annoying, to be frank.

You rolled your eyes. Not only to mask- once again, your clear state of nervous desire. But also because of the way Logan managed to invite himself into your space, not that you had an issue with it. He had made it known that he followed where you went. It was a sign of endearment, as the telling smirk on your lips showed.

“Oh. Nothing, just talking about who’s bones your woman over here wants to jump.” Storm instigated, all with a telling smile, of course. You almost screamed, if it weren’t for the bark of laughter that escaped Logan. And the way your mind raced with the fact that he didn’t stop Ororo from calling you his girl.

“‘N who would that be, darlin’?” Logan asked you, smiling all the more. He had to have known. He’d probably fucking known since the day you’d met him. And yet, three months later, you still had convinced yourself it was an infatuation. You had only spent every waking moment with him, after all.

“Nobody.” You mumbled, looking at your feet. Fully planted on the ground and ready to skip town if necessary at this rate.

“Don’t sound like nobody to me.” Logan urged a response, the one you’d given wouldn’t cut it. And if, god forbid, there was someone out there that wasn’t him who’d caught your interest. He’d have their fucking head on a platter.

“She’s just messing with me,” You look up, regaining some form of composure. You were reluctant to show Logan any type of romantic affection, despite the nagging feelings inside of you. The truth being- if you were really reflecting on it- you wanted nothing more than to do exactly that.

Logan hummed, clearly not convinced whatsoever. He read you like a book, no matter the time or place. And additionally, he had no shame calling you out on it. As you did for him. However, for some odd reason he didn’t press the matter. Which you were silently thankful for.

He knew if it were someone else he’d have lost it. So with the little self control he had left, he brushed the issue under the rug. For your sake, of course.

~

A knock startled Logan and he stirred from a restless sleep. Not that he ever had a restful sleep. He grumbled, throwing a forearm over his eyes at the sudden light spilling in from the windows.

You walked in, as you had done before. You always knocked, but Logan rarely responded with more than a simple grunt. Sometimes so low that you missed it, so you started to just invite yourself in.

He lifted his arm slightly, catching a glimpse of you in the light. You stood at the foot of his bed. Clad in a summer sundress, something he couldn’t resist on any woman. And you, well he was a lost cause. He was just a man after all.

He smirked, you caught it. Despite your obvious annoyance, the position you always ended up in with him was amusing. Him being the one getting scolded for yet another missed mission debriefing, you being the one to lecture him since the team was well aware of his soft spot for you. He’d never get mad at you, he was sure of it. He couldn’t. It was impossible to.

You started to believe that he was skipping meetings for these moments alone. Maybe the thought was a little delusional, but he’d missed at least four and at the rate he was going, it seemed he didn’t plan on stopping.

“Sorry, doll-”

“Don’t gimme that bullshit.” You crossed your arms, puffing your chest just slightly while you cut him off. Logan thought it was adorable, you trying to be defiant. He knew deep down you anticipated these moments just as much as he did.

“I gotta sit down there and listen to Scott bitch about you not showing up. And I’m not even a fucking mutant!” You huff, your annoyance was clear with the way your voice raised ever so slightly. Though, Logan was bold to assume it was more towards Scott. And if he’d asked, he’d have been correct. Logan could be insufferable, but he was still Logan. And though you were irritated, you knew he could take the brunt of your frustration for you without flinching.

“You better get your shit together, or I might start thinking you’re doing this on purpose.”

“So what if I am?” He countered with a raise of his eyebrow. You scoffed, despite the crimson that dusted your cheeks. He sat up against his headboard with a victorious smirk.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips gave way to your true feelings.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugged, his smug expression still present on his face. Oh how you wanted to kiss it off of him.

“I could hit you right now.”

“But you won’t.” He countered, always a response.

You groaned, throwing your head back and turning your back to him. Walking towards his door.

“Wait, doll.” You paused, back still to him while you glanced over your shoulder.

“C’mere.” He gestured for you to sit next to him. On his bed.

Sure, you’d been in his room before. And maybe you two hung out there once or twice. But you always made sure to sit in another chair, or if anything the edge of his bed. Never had he invited you in it, let alone next to him. And so close, too.

You hesitantly shuffled over to him. Slowly lowering yourself to sit down. His broad shoulder brushed yours. He smirked, as he always did with you. He looked down into your eyes as you looked up into his. Your face was the epitome of how shy you felt around him. Especially at times like this.

Your big innocent eyes, the soft reflection of the light on your skin. The way your lips looked so soft and inviting. It was all too much and not enough for Logan.

And then, he moved your hair behind your ear. A movement so subtle it could’ve meant nothing.

Or everything.

You blinked, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Ya mad at me, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, knowing damn well you never could be. And Logan, well he may just have wanted to see you get all flustered. Hearing your heart race made his own pick up speed.

You subconsciously leaned into his touch, a small smile on your pretty face. He wished he could have stopped time and taken a picture. One to keep for himself alone.

“No, asshole. Just, go to the meetings. So Scott will leave me alone.” You added onto the end, a little something that would hopefully give him a push. You wanted to believe that if you asked him to do something for you, he’d do it.

And you were right.

He huffed and smiled, dropping his hand to now rest on to of your own. You weren’t sure if he was doing it consciously or not. It made you a flustered mess either way.

“M’kay. I’ll go.” He replied, his voice gruff and soft all the same. He brushed his rough thumb over your soft knuckles. It made your heart grow ten sizes. The way he treated you so gently. It didn’t go unnoticed.

He stood from his bed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Only for ya’ though, darlin’.” He added the last part, the small kiss spurring on your emotions even more. He smiled as he left the room- his room. All but leaving you sitting on his bed, wide eyed and flustered. You scoffed in disbelief, a smile following promptly after.

You up and left his room moments later, once you’d finally composed yourself, and you practically skipped to your room. The energy eminanting off of you was prominent. Your thoughts so loud that Jean, who was just passing through, caught them without even trying.

Jean despised the way the two of you had acted with each other. It was sickening how sweet he seemed to be for you. He’d never once given her that same softness. He’d never given anybody that softness, to her knowledge. Even in the deepest depths of his infatuation with her. It was a type of gesture that nobody had seen from Logan.

And while everyone else found it adorable, the way he followed you like a lost puppy. The way he talked about you like you were his entire world. Two people who could be no less than meant for each other in every sense of the word.

She was disgusted.

Part of her wished desperately to be happy for you guys, to act like the rest of the X-men. But the inconsolable jealousy she felt took over the mere fiber of her being every single fucking time. And not only was she upset with Logan, who no longer spared her as much as a second glance. But she hated herself for how she felt. For having her own boyfriend, one who loved her like no other, and still having the nagging thirst to ruin you and Logan.

Something was up with her. Something nobody except her and Charles had known was coming a long time ago.

[manicandobsessive]

it’s obviously trendy to hate on america but I genuinely need ppl to understand, especially going into the next four years, that over half of AMERICANS did not want this. we’re protesting, we’re advocating, we’re educating. but our government will not listen to us. you do not need to tell us that our country is an imperialist war machine or make jokes about school shootings or about our healthcare system. we know. we are actively being exploited for our time and our bodies by the capitalists that want to bleed us dry. they do not see us as humans to help, but cattle to profit from. and they are in charge. there is plenty to make fun of. maga, elon musk, trump, etc. but some of you truly lack empathy. underprivileged vulnerable communities make up the majority of this country and we are suffering and will continue to suffer as we descend farther into a fascist state disguised as an oligarchy

[manicandobsessive]

Hi everyone, just a little message for yall <3

As someone living in the states right now, it’s an absolutely gut wrenching time to be alive.

The man taking office as of this moment should not be someone allowed in power.

Its not okay or normal.

The world is slowly becoming a nightmare of a dystopia, and I am beyond anxious for the years to come.

All of that being said, this is a safe space for any and everyone of any race, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, etc.

I have never and will never be one to discriminate. I understand my privilege as a white woman currently, that does not mean I don’t want to do my absolute most to make others have a small part of this fucked up world they can escape to.

I am always available to message or talk to. To everyone else, especially those in the states currently, I am so deeply sorry. We all deserve better. You are loved and you are cared for.

[manicandobsessive]

No thanks.

[manicandobsessive]

“tik tok is brainrot I’m glad it’s getting deleted” YOU are ignoring an early warning sign of fascism bc silly dances and asmr annoys u. tik tok ban is a part of a MUCH bigger bill that indicates any foreign app, if deemed a threat, can be banned if the owner does not sell it. aka the government is mad bc they cannot censor & their capitalist puppet masters are mad they aren’t making money from it. and if ur ok w that……hm

[manicandobsessive]

Soooo…hi

What if I write a nice angsty oneshot based on this song

hehe

[manicandobsessive]

The ceasefire agreement was reached and joy is floating among the Palestinian people

[manicandobsessive]

God, he's so cunty. that's a babygirl right there

[manicandobsessive]

hard agree

logan howlett embodies jealous by nick jonas i don't make the rules

[manicandobsessive]

Freckles

Logan kisses your freckles.

logan howlett x fem!reader - pure fluff, logan kisses reader’s freckles, reader is insecure about freckles, think that’s it…

a/n: This is very self indulgent…i have freckles…like a fucking lot so this is just something i needed because i was on my period.

You sat perched on the windowsill, knees tucked beneath you, the fading sunlight painting soft golden streaks across your skin. The amber glow caught every curve and hollow, bathing you in a kind of light that Logan swore was reserved for celestial beings. But you weren’t paying attention to that; your gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sky blushed in shades of peach and lavender.

Logan sat at the edge of the windowsill, one booted foot braced against the floor, the other swinging idly. He watched you—had been watching you for a while. His expression was a curious mix of softness and intensity, his lips pulled into that familiar smirk that always made your stomach flutter.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, catching the look. “What?” you asked, your voice tinged with suspicion but softened by the faint blush already blooming across your cheeks.

Logan shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee. His rough fingers toyed absently with the seam of his jeans. “Nothin’, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Just… lookin’ at you.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, turning your head fully to face him. “Well, stop it. You’re making it weird.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. His eyes traveled across your face, lingering on the delicate constellation of freckles scattered over your nose and cheeks, then down to where they dusted your collarbones and arms like splashes of sun. He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up into something softer. “You ever notice how the sun loves you?”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden poetic shift in his tone. “The sun… loves me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, leaning back slightly to get a better view of you. “It paints you gold every time it touches you like it’s tryin’ to show the world just how damn gorgeous you are.” His voice was quieter now, but it held an edge of conviction that made your stomach twist.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a dry laugh, trying to play it off. “Oh, please. The freckles…are ugly. People have told me my whole life how they make me look like I’ve been splattered with mud or something.”

Logan’s brows drew together, and his smirk faded into something sterner, almost disbelieving. “Mud?” he repeated, like the word itself offended him. “Sweetheart, whoever told you that’s a damn fool. Freckles are… hell, they’re like a map of all the places the universe kissed you.”

You stared at him, your mouth parting slightly. For once, you had no clever retort. He grinned at your silence, the look in his eyes turning playful but still achingly tender.

“I’m serious,” he added, leaning closer. His hand reached out, rough fingertips brushing along your forearm, tracing a patch of freckles there like he was committing their placement to memory. “And if you can’t see it yet, well…” He met your gaze, his grin tilting into something mischievous. “Guess I’ll just have to kiss every single one of ‘em till you believe me.”

You blinked at him, the weight of his words sinking in just a second too late. “You wouldn’t—”

Your protest was cut off by the gentle press of his lips against your cheek, right beside your nose where the freckles were darkest. You froze, heat rushing to your face as he pulled back just enough to meet your wide-eyed stare. He grinned, boyish and smug, then leaned in again, this time brushing a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“Logan,” you murmured, half-laughing, half-protesting, though your heart was racing in a way that betrayed your words.

“Shh, gorgeous,” he said, his lips quirking against your skin as he kissed the corner of your jaw, then another freckle just beneath your ear. “Told you. Every. Single. One.”

Your laughter bubbled up despite yourself, a sweet sound that only encouraged him. He took his time, pressing soft, reverent kisses to your freckles like they were precious things that deserved to be worshipped.

You tried to protest again, your lips parting to say anything, but the words faltered before they could form. Logan’s lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss just below your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. Slowly, like a tide pulling back from the shore, the tension in your body began to melt away, leaving you pliant and helpless against the quiet reverence of his touch.

“Told you I’m not stoppin’ till I’ve kissed ‘em all. You’ll just have to sit there and take it,” he whispered, his voice low and tender as his lips trailed to the curve of your neck, brushing against another freckle as if it were his life’s purpose.

You tried to scoff, tried to summon some shred of your usual wit, but all that came out was a soft laugh. Your hand drifted to his shoulder, not to push him away but to anchor yourself against the dizzying wave of emotion threatening to pull you under. “You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though it sounded more like a fond confession than a complaint.

“Maybe,” he admitted with a crooked grin, his lips curving against your collarbone. “But you’re the one who’s worth it.”

His words made your chest tighten in that sweet, aching way that left you feeling like your heart was too big for your ribcage. You could barely breathe as he continued his slow pilgrimage across your skin, his kisses impossibly gentle.

“Okay, okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling with laughter as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I believe you. The freckles are… beautiful, or whatever. You win.”

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, one brow arching in a way that was both smug and impossibly charming. “Or whatever?” he repeated, clearly unimpressed with your halfhearted concession.

You rolled your eyes, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Fine. They’re beautiful. I’m beautiful. Happy now?”

He studied you for a moment, his hazel eyes warm and searching, and for a second you thought he might finally relent. But then, just as quickly, that mischievous glint returned to his gaze. “Not yet,” he said, his voice rich with affection as he leaned back in. “I’ve still got a few more to go.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on your shoulder, kissing the freckles scattered there, one after another, slow and deliberate. His hands, warm and calloused, skimmed along your arms as if the intensity of what he was doing wasn’t already enough to make your head spin.

“You don’t have to keep going,” you said softly, though your body betrayed you by leaning into him, the warmth of his presence chasing away every doubt that had ever lingered in your mind about the way you looked.

“Yeah, I do,” Logan replied, his voice rough but filled with a tenderness that made your throat tighten. He shifted slightly, his lips finding a patch of freckles near your shoulder blade. “Been wantin’ to do this for a long time, darlin’. You just gave me an excuse.”

Your laugh came out shaky, almost disbelieving. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That I am,” he said with a low chuckle, his lips curving against your skin. “But so are you. And if I’ve gotta kiss every last freckle to make you see that, well…” His lips brushed along your arm now, following the path of freckles that led to your wrist. “Guess I’m not stoppin’ anytime soon.”

You felt your cheeks heat again, but this time you didn’t try to fight it. Instead, you let your eyes drift closed, letting his love wash over you. It wasn’t just the way he kissed you, slow and patient, or the way his touch felt like home—it was the way he saw you. All of you. Every little thing you’d ever hated about yourself, he adored like it was some kind of treasure.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice catching on the weight of everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

“I know, darlin’,” he murmured against your wrist, pressing one last kiss to the freckles scattered there before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His grin was soft now, edged with something deeper. “But I ain’t done yet.”

Before you could argue, his lips found yours, stealing the last of your protests and replacing them with a warmth that spread through your entire body, from the freckles on your skin to the deepest corners of your soul.

[manicandobsessive]

Icarian | L.H. | Masterlist

~ Prologue: Nobody's Solider

~Wildflower and Barley

~July

~That You Are

~Too Sweet

~Who we Are

~To Someone From a Warm Climate

~Icarian

~First Time / Empire Now

~Unknown/Nth

~Abstract (Psychopomp)

~All Things End

~Francesca

~Epilogue: Hymn to Virgil

Inspired by Hozier, duh.

[manicandobsessive]

I ALSO LOVE OLD MEN!!

Old man! Logan is…

…the kind of boyfriend who invites you to sit on his lap while you read a book, leaning over your shoulder to ask you questions about the plot.

…the kind of boyfriend whose idea of love language is acts of kindness and shared time. His idea of a date is having a lazy Sunday morning with you firmly buried in his arms. Doesn’t really matter if you’re talking or not, all that matters is that you’re here.

…the kind of boyfriend who blushes and turns his head away when you riddle his cheeks with kisses, telling you not to treat him like a kid despite the fact you can see the corners of his lips turning up.

…the kind of boyfriend who decorates you with the prettiest clothes, just so you can model for him.

…the kind of boyfriend who offers you a taste of his whiskey by letting you taste it on his tongue.

…the kind of boyfriend who’s worried that you’re far too good for a man like him, who even gets paranoid and fears the day you come to your senses and leave.

…the kind of boyfriend who’s grateful that you choose to spend your time with him, that you choose to stay despite his many flaws.

…the kind of boyfriend who always puts you before himself in all aspects of life. He’d sooner die than let you feel unappreciated.

[manicandobsessive]

so well spoken.

Grab a coffee and let's discuss Hugh Jackman and Sutton ok not so much discuss as allow me to vent my thoughts and opinions none of you asked for

I have thoughts on Hugh x Sutton. And I'm gonna word-salad them, so I guess consider this a trigger warning.

Also I am so, so aware that this is all subjectively dependent on confirmation that an affair *actually* happened while these two were married to their respectfuls, so this could all be for naught. But in the meantime, here I am. I am so prepared and ready and desire to be wrong.

It's not that I am surprised, honestly. I'm not. Hollywood is chalked full of the elite who think they are above moral law, and that because of their fame and glory and wealth, believe nobody should hold them to any standard. That morality doesn't apply. So much is crafted for PR and staged to ride on coattails and boost interest, money is the bottom dollar, only dethroned maybe to sex.

If (and it is an if, we don't have confirmation statements from any of the parties involved) an affair actually took place, in both marriages, this is a symptom not only of the issues I've had with Hollywood for twenty years, but symptoms of bigger, root issues. Character flaws.

Looking at things spiritual-social, like I do, affairs and adultery have a lot of stuff that weaves in and out of its lines. There's the base lust and insatiability, boredom. Detachment and disenchantment. But more, I think there's a restlessness. Dissatisfaction and discontent, a lack of peace that spurs curiosity to try new things, to break rules, to push the envelope. Of pride. Also, too, this is a key flag of lack of leadership and maturity, responsibility. Of maybe, even, low-self-confidence; having to toy with forbidden fruit to boost confidence because wow, someone more interesting actually wants me and I'm desirable.

There's a lot of people hurt in this, I'm sure. Or maybe there isn't, remains a lot of unanswered questions. Maybe his wife wasn't all that torn up about this, maybe Sutton's husband was cheating himself. Not excusable reasons, by any stretch. Divorce, if you're not satisfied in your marriage and it's irreconcilable. Legally separate. Decide to see other people together.

It's called communication, and adults in their forties and fifties are not excluded from this because of their bank roll or their name on the marquee. Obviously Hugh can act, but needs a lesson in interpersonal comm.

And does this affect my life? Absolutely not, in any way. But there should be something said here that may be controversial.

Just because this has happened doesn't make it unforgivable. I am commissioned by my God to forgive, and not to judge. So, I will fight my hardest to do so, while standing here maintaining that this doesn't make Hugh Jackman or Sutton Foster rotten to their core, unforgivably awful people. This was a mistake, yes. Whether intention or aware, ignorant or not. This was a misstep, this was gross, this was a waving red flag of bigger issues in each of them that they'll probably never even admit, even in therapy.

But this doesn't mean they are bad people. It means they're symptoms of bigger issues and deeply, probably, unhappy people at levels they may not even know.

Am I excusing behavior? Absolutely not.

I am saying that if you want to enjoy Hugh Jackman's face, his films, his career, you can do so without tolerating his behavior. It doesn't validate him, just as much as abstaining doesn't invalidate him. He will continue to be Hugh Jackman regardless, he'll continue in his relationships, he'll continue to live in his fantasy world of Hollywood where he's a god and stars on concrete sidewalks worship his name.

His world will continue, whether or not you participate in it or not, and he will not care. This is a man who, until testimony says otherwise, has shown the world he not only doesn't care, but, he absolutely is willing to maybe hurt people for his own happiness, that he maybe he doesn't value morality. Breaks covenants.

I personally, from the jump, learned a long time ago that these people are actors. Their life is a stage, and what they show us is most often what they desire us to see and not the big picture. Or if there is truth in what they say about themselves, it's so veiled that it looks like lies.

When I entered my Hugh Jackman phase I knew I wanted to know his character, his style of acting, how he pursues his passion, not necessarily about his life. I figured he'd give me the ick, most Hollywood stars do, simply because they are not relatable people. They are not real or raw, they do not and will not empathize with me. They are up here and we are down there, and they're happy to keep us that way unless it makes them look good or writes them a check.

I suspected it about Jackman just as much as anyone else, nothing about him screamed oh! he's totally different! because I knew, in my almost-adamantium bones, he wasn't. Nobody that pretty is real. Nobody with a cult following like that is relatable.

You don't get that famous being yourself, you get that famous playing a part.

It's important to manage expectations when it comes to the people we admire, and to remember that Hollywood is one big stage with a huge 'ol curtain that separates them from us. It's an us-versus-them situation, not in the sense of battle and who wins, but, more in a sense of, you're over there and I'm here.

There are lines in the sand that they draw, and don't allow us to cross because again, they are them. We are us. We are paychecks, we are objects to stoke their ego, we are numbers on a social media account that make them feel good but don't matter.

This is sad, yeah. It's not surprising. It made my guts twist up with revolt, but it didn't rock my world. I'll get over it, so will you.

But I'm going to continue enjoying my Hugh Jackman characters, because in them, they are good. Hugh lends his face to characters that can be anything, can be all the things he, as a man, cannot and has failed, to be.

You're welcome to your opinions, but this is mine.

Now excuse me, I have some Wolverine stuff to write and my coffee needs refilled.

edit to add: all that glitters isn't old. I actually feel so sorry for these two, all the wealth, fame, beauty, it isn't enough. It isn't enough, as we see echoed in Showman. Never enough. Such deeply unfulfilled people, it's actually tragic, and they may not even know it.

[manicandobsessive]

obsessed

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[manicandobsessive]

MASTERLIST

Series:

Icarian

One shots:

I’ll be watching you

[manicandobsessive]

I’ll be watching you | L.H.

Summary: You and Logan broke up two months ago. Yet, he can’t find it in himself to move on.

Warnings: Fem!reader, slightly toxic!logan, pet names, alludes to reader being shorter than Logan, (Lo can’t regulate his emotions but we love him nonetheless)

It’d been 2 months since Logan ended things with you. And in those two months, he’d felt nothing but resentment towards himself. He got in the way of another good thing for the sake of his own sanity and your safety. Or at least that’s what he was telling himself. Did he regret it every second of every hour? Absolutely. You were the best damn thing to happen to him in years. Decades even. You were his world, and in all honesty, still are.

Just because he broke it off didn’t mean he wasn’t going to leave you alone, however. Because Logan is simply- Logan. And what’s his is his. He was reluctant to let go of any part of you, despite the better part of him telling himself to get over it and be an adult.

He never was a good listener.

Logan breaking up with you was an end all be all to say the least. Sure, you’d loved before. And yeah you’d had your fair share of experiences with relationships. But Logan, he was different. Never before had you seen yourself with someone for the rest of your life so clearly. He was it for you. He made you wonder if the other times you’d thought you were in love was really that or just basic infatuation.

Loving Logan didn’t come without its struggles, though. He pushed you away when he got scared, even if he refused to admit it. He left without a word and wouldn’t return for hours, only to come back to you smelling like a dive bar and holding flowers. He was possessive, and still is. You’ve noticed, and it only stings more. He’d never been controlling, he let you live your own life as he lived his. But, he loved to make sure everyone knew who you belonged to. That there would never be a question if you were available or not.

And god help anyone who dared to try despite that.

In the same respect, you never once questioned his love for you. His loyalty was unwavering, and he never so much as looked in another woman’s direction. He knew you, inside and out. From your favorite song to the reasons you were hesitant to love again. He could gauge your mood the minute you opened your eyes in the morning. He did anything and everything he could to make you smile, even if it made him feel like an idiot. And in some ways, he was a damn lovesick fool. Everyone around you knew it as well. With the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and how he couldn’t go a minute without touching you in some way. Needless to say- not only your friends, but the entire mansion was shocked to see he’d ended things.

You felt him all around you. He never truly left. His scent still lingered in your room, just as yours did to his own. His clothes were hung in your closet, things you’d claimed that he’d never dare to take back. Dead flowers from the last time he’d given you them still stood in the corner of your room, unable to be looked at without a pang of hurt ringing through your entire body. He kept all the things you’d given him, pictures, notes, books, music. He still carried a part of you with him daily, whether it be the song he was listening to or the note from you he’d reread a million times over. He was baffled by the way you loved him, and he kicked himself over and over again for ruining that.

He hung around often, walking past your classroom or the common area where you sat talking with Ororo and Jean. The smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It hasn’t since that day two months ago. Logan and you both knew. Neither of you had felt real emotion since then, it was like color was drained from the world. All because of his stupidity.

He watched you interact with Kurt, a kind- soft gaze you always seemed to give people. Even in your worst moments. His knuckles turned white at the scene. You were bantering back and forth over some book you found Kurt had also enjoyed. Logan longed for the days where he was on the receiving end of your limitless tangents. He would sit and listen to you talk for days and not bat an eye. And the fact that someone else now was getting that treatment- it didn’t sit right with him. So, the minute you stood and waved your goodbye to Kurt. He shifted behind the doorway, out of your line of vision. And the moment you stepped within reach, a hand clasped around your wrist. A familiar touch that sent a jolt of emotion through you. The most you’d felt in a while.

You simply stopped in place, taking a deep breath through your nose. You shifted to face him- Logan. The man you hadn’t spoken to since the day he decided to leave. The man you’d been avoiding so much as breathing towards since then.

“The fuck was that?” He snapped. His tone was that of a growl and it made a shiver run down your body. You knew what he was feeling. You’d heard him like this a handful of times.

“Huh? Talkin’ to him like he’s your boyfriend or somethin’?”

You’d had enough of his shit. How dare he break your heart and then pretend like you belong to him.

“And so fucking what if he is, Logan?”

He stepped closer, now towering over you. Yet, you weren’t scared nor were you intimidated. You never would be, not of him. Because even in the midst of heartache, you knew he’d never hurt you. Not like that.

He bent at the waist, his face inches from your own. Everything from his scent to his warmth engulfed you wholly. It made your breath hitch.

“Better fuckin’ hope for his sake he ain’t. You’re mine, doll. Belong to me.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling your wrist from his grasp. You walked away without another word. The way you left him there, it hurt more than he’d admit to himself. But he was keen on making it known that you weren’t to be touched by anyone else.

From that day on, you noticed him around more often than not. He sat on the couch when you were in the kitchen. He smoked outside when you hung in the living room to watch you from the window. He walked past your room, only to hear the occasional hum of a tune or turn of a book page. He was becoming a shadow, borderline stalking you. It would scare you, but you enjoyed knowing you still had his full attention. That you were on his mind as much as he was on yours. And sure- it was toxic, but it was something.

Things came to a head after a heated argument earlier in the day, a few weeks later. He’d been lurking around and you’d told him to get a life. That you would never belong to him again. And that, above all else, you didn’t love him anymore. Which was as far from the truth as you could get, but it was your last shot at being half as harsh as he could be. To break his heart like he did to yours.

You didn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning restlessly with thoughts of Logan plaguing your mind. He, too, didn’t get a wink of sleep. So after hours of listening to you rustling in your own bed, he made his way across the hall to your room. Not bothering to knock and simply opening the door softly. He shut it behind him, and from the simple way he padded over to your bed, you knew it was Logan. You stayed facing the window, your back to him.

“Baby,” He whispered into the darkness, your figure the only thing illuminated by the moonlight.

He invited himself into the warmth of your bed, knowing damn well you’d come around. As you felt the bed dip, you didn’t have it in yourself to be angry. You simply sniffled and shut your eyes. He shifted closer to you, draping an arm around your waist as naturally as he used to. He nuzzled his face into your hair inhaling the scent he loved so much. And with that, he whispered yet again.

“Baby, please.” A silent plea for forgiveness. Enough for you to flip around, face to face with him.

“Lo’” You rasped, your voice weak from not only crying but pure exhaustion. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you into his chest. You revelled in his warmth, moving as close as humanly possible. Much to his content.

“Shh.” He hushed, his free arm now brushing through your soft hair. A tried and true method of comfort for you. “I know, I know. ‘M so sorry, darlin’.” He kissed your head and felt the salty tears from your eyes drop to his chest. It made his heart ache all the more.

“You hurt me.” You spoke out, unmoving from where you resided in his grasp. He sighed, still silent. No excuse or apology would be enough, he felt. You deserved more, but selfishly, he wanted to be the one to give it to you anyways.

“But I love you, and I can’t stop.”

His breath stopped and his movements froze. He shifted to now look at your face. Your tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Yet you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I love ya, baby. Always will.” He spoke, deep and rough.

“And ‘m a damn idiot for fuckin’ this up. Ruinin’ the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It was your turn to make a move, and all you could do was allow him to kiss the tears off your face. Maybe it would be a mistake trusting him with your heart again. But when it came to Logan, love won over logic. Every damn time.