#DOFP ON TOP

[veevil]

Maybe today he'll say

I don't know what I'd do without you

[xxplastic-cubexx]

your movie charles art gives me cuteness aggression

obsessed with getting these asks back to back and yet they both hold some truth i think ...... thank you very much everyone ....

[lovebunnie]

unbelievable how hank never wrung charles’ neck like a fancy dish rag during dofp. you want to be a sad drug addict living in a dilapidated mansion surrounded by both childhood memories and the best months of your life? fine. but youre gonna do all that while staying in love with the rude terrorist who shot you in the spine and paralyzed you and then left you on a beach? i hope your bald head pops like a balloon charles

[wishchip106]

i’ve made it a habit to post something right before i go to sleep 🤨

for tonight i am saying these guys got freaky before erik tried to kill his sister

thank you and goodnight.

[jewishcissiekj]

half my spotify wrapped is just composers. i know i listen to movie scores. why do you keep reminding me

[pandapetals]

Faking It

During sex, you fake an orgasm causing Logan to spiral. Once he confronts you about it, he wants to prove he can make you feel good without faking it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - established relationship, no reader description, no y/n used, faking an orgasm, self-loathing logan, slight angst, imagined worst logan but this gives dofp!logan too, vibes, smut, feral logan, p in v sex, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie 

a/n: idea from @yxtkiwiyxt - it ate away at my brain and being on my period really caused this to be born

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan could feel everything. Every shift in your body, every flicker in your expression, every whispered contradiction between what you said and felt. He didn’t just sense when you lied—he absorbed it, like static in the air before a storm.

Now, with your body beneath his, every nerve in him was attuned to you. The heat of your skin pressed against his, the rhythmic creak of the mattress, the broken gasps you offered him—it was intoxicating. Yet it wasn’t enough. Something was off.

The faint furrow of your brow was his first clue. At first, he thought it was pleasure, that delicious kind of tension that came right before you unraveled. But then he felt the subtle stiffness in your thighs, the shallow way you breathed, and a flicker of doubt crackled through his chest. The feral part of him that craved, that demanded—urged him forward, driving him to thrust harder, deeper, desperate to coax something real out of you. He growled low in your ear, his voice rough with need.

“C’mon, pretty girl… make a mess for me,” he rasped, his teeth grazing the delicate line of your jaw.

You whimpered, but it wasn’t the sound he was chasing. And when the moan came—high-pitched, trembling, but hollow—it hit him like a cold slap to the face. It wasn’t real. He knew it wasn’t real.

His hands tightened on your hips as frustration swirled with something darker, something that felt too close to shame. His feral side snarled inside him, demanding he keep going, demanding release, and for one selfish, fleeting moment, he gave in. He pushed through, riding the edge until he spilled into you with a broken groan, collapsing onto the bed beside you as his chest heaved.

The room felt too quiet after, too still. Your fingers trailed idly over his chest, your touch soft and featherlight, but Logan’s body felt stiff beneath your hand. He turned his head, searching your face in the dim light, and when you offered a lazy smile, it was like glass shattering in his chest.

“I make you feel good, gorgeous?” he asked, his voice low and soft, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Uh-huh,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him like it was nothing. Like the lie wasn’t still hanging heavy in the air between you.

Logan wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t oblivious. That tiny, fake little moan echoed in his ears, replaying like a bad song on repeat. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He’d been in your bed, in your body, but not once had he felt like he was truly with you. Not tonight.

Still, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as his thoughts churned. He held you close, feeling your breathing slow as sleep crept in, and though his arms tightened around you protectively, his mind refused to rest.

Why had you faked it? Was it him? Something he’d done—or something he hadn’t done? Did you not trust him enough to tell him? The questions coiled in his gut, twisting and knotting until frustration and hurt blurred together in a haze of anger. And yet, despite the heat crawling under his skin, he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. Not now. 

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. Logan didn’t let things go easily—especially not when it came to you.

But figuring out how to bring it up? That wasn’t his strong suit. For a whole day, he sat on it, the frustration gnawing at him like a splinter buried too deep to pull out. He replayed every moment in his head: the way your body tensed, the way your fake moan had grated against his ears, the way you had smiled afterward like nothing had happened. By the time the sun had begun to set again, the weight of it had him wound so tight it felt like a rubber band about to snap. And, unfortunately for Wade, Logan’s rubber band tended to snap loudly.

The bar was dimly lit, its usual haze of stale beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. Logan sat nursing a whiskey he’d barely touched, his mood written all over his face. Wade, of course, was oblivious—or maybe just ignoring it. He leaned on the counter beside Logan, rambling on about some escapade Logan hadn’t bothered to keep track of. His jaw clenched tighter with every passing second until Wade finally poked the wrong bear.

“You’ve been pissy all day,” Wade said, squinting at Logan like he was examining a strange animal. “Let me guess, you finally found someone who doesn’t think your claws are sexy? Or—oh, wait—” Wade’s face lit up with a spark of mischief. “You’re telling me you couldn’t make your girlfriend orgasm?”

Logan stiffened.

“Oh, peanut,” Wade gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like he was genuinely heartbroken. “Say it ain’t so! The big bad Wolverine, all growls and muscles, and��nothing? Nada? No fireworks?”

Logan’s hand slammed down on the bar, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. He rounded on Wade, eyes blazing, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about, so maybe shut your damn mouth before I shut it for you.”

Wade blinked, and there was a beat of silence—a rare occurrence for him. But it lasted all of two seconds before his lips quirked into a grin. “Ohhhh, I hit a nerve, didn’t I? Don’t worry, champ, it happens to the best of us. Well, not to me, obviously, but—”

“Wade.” Logan’s tone cut through the air like a blade. The room seemed to drop a few degrees as Logan pushed himself up from the barstool, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. Wade threw up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Geez, no need to go full Wolverine on me.” Wade stepped back, but not without muttering under his breath, “Touchy subject, huh?”

Logan ignored him. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the bar, his mind racing. Wade might be an idiot, but even idiots could land a hit when they weren’t aiming. The truth was, the jab had struck too close to home. He didn’t care about the idea of failure, not really—not when it came to anyone else. But with you? It felt like a crack in something he hadn’t even realized was fragile.

When Logan got back to your shared space, you were curled up on the couch, your feet tucked under you as you watched TV. The sight of you—so calm, so untouched by the storm that had been raging inside him all day—made something snap loose in his chest. He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Can we talk?” His voice was gruff, but quieter than you expected, almost hesitant.

You glanced up, surprised. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little before settling on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Last night,” he started, his voice strained. “Somethin’ was off. I know it. You know it. And I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

Your stomach twisted, guilt pooling in your chest. “Logan, I—”

“You faked it,” he said bluntly, cutting to the heart of it. His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and the vulnerability there nearly knocked the wind out of you. “Why?”

The word hung in the air between you.

You swallowed hard, turning the TV off and shifting in your seat. “It wasn’t you,” you said quickly, wanting to get that part out first. “I mean, it wasn’t because of you. It’s… me.”

His brow furrowed, and he leaned back slightly, his arms crossing over his chest as he studied you. “What does that mean?”

You took a deep breath, your hands twisting in your lap. “I’ve been in my head lately,” you admitted. “I’ve been… struggling. With work, with stress, with feeling like I’m enough. And I guess last night, I just—” You hesitated, looking away. “I didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t enough. So I faked it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled a low sound that was more frustration with himself than anything else. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t have to fake anything with me. Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered, your throat tight. “I just… I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” Logan’s voice sharpened, and he leaned forward again, his hands reaching out to take yours. “You think that’s what this is about? I don’t care about some… performance. I care about you. And if somethin’s wrong, I wanna know. I wanna fix it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you gave a small nod. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just… tell me when something’s wrong, okay?” His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, his voice softening again.

You managed a small smile, squeezing his hands. “Okay.” 

Logan’s lips brushed your forehead before he pulled you into his arms. His touch was warm, and grounding, but there was something beneath it—something deliberate. His hands settled on your hips like he was afraid you might pull away.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “let me make you feel good.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “Logan, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine—”

He cut you off with a shake of his head, his thumb brushing over the curve of your waist. “No, you’re not,” he said plainly, his tone gruff but tender. His eyes met yours, intense and unwavering, and his lips quirked into a faint smirk. “You’re stressed. I can see it. I can feel it.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid down your arms, calloused fingertips trailing a path that sent shivers racing across your skin. “Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

And honestly? There was no denying it. The idea of Logan worshipping your body—of losing yourself in the way he always seemed to know exactly what you needed—was too tempting to resist. You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

“I mean…” You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wavered as his hands slid lower, settling on the backs of your thighs. “If you insist…”

Logan let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Oh, I insist,” he drawled, his grip tightening just enough to make your stomach flip. Before you could process the thought, he was lifting you with ease, his strength as effortless as it was intoxicating.

The world tilted as he carried you to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He laid you down with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache, his broad frame hovering over you. His lips found the delicate curve of your neck, and your breath hitched as he kissed his way down, the scrape of his stubble sending sparks skittering across your skin.

By the time his hands found the waistband of your underwear, you were already melting under his touch. He peeled them off slowly, his eyes darkening as they roamed your bare skin. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice thick with desire.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a soft gasp as his lips trailed lower, his mouth hot and insistent against your collarbone. His hands gripped your hips, grounding you as he shifted lower, and the anticipation coiled in your stomach like a live wire.

“Logan,” you whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a plea.

He glanced up at you, his smirk returning as he settled between your thighs. “Relax, darlin’,” he murmured, his hands spreading your legs with deliberate care. “Let me take my time with you.”

The first press of his mouth was soft and exploratory, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Logan was nothing if not thorough, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that left you breathless. He watched your every reaction, the flicker of his eyes on you making it clear he was entirely in control—but completely devoted to you.

Your hands tangled in his hair as the tension inside you built, his name falling from your lips in broken whispers. He hummed against you, the vibrations making you arch into him, and he responded by gripping your hips tighter, holding you in place as he worked you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally came undone, shuddering and gasping beneath him, Logan didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your body shook with aftershocks.

“Not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice low and gravelly. His lips curved into a wicked grin, and before you could catch your breath, he dipped his head again, his mouth finding you with renewed purpose.

Time blurred after that, the world narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of him, the way he seemed utterly consumed by the act of worshipping every inch of you. By the time he finally let you catch your breath, your body was boneless, your mind a haze of blissful exhaustion.

Logan crawled up the bed, his lips brushing over your temple as he pulled you into his arms. His hands, still warm and steady, skimmed over your back, grounding you in the aftermath of it all.

“Better?” he asked, his voice soft now, full of quiet satisfaction.

You let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in his chest. “You could say that,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin.

Logan chuckled softly as he kissed the top of your head. His hand rested against the small of your back, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. “Good,” he murmured, his tone laced with smug satisfaction but dripping with affection. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

You nodded weakly, still catching your breath, your body feeling boneless in the aftermath of his touch. Every nerve was still humming, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. But then you felt it—a shift in the air, a change in the weight of the bed as Logan leaned forward.

Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see the smirk tugging at his lips, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. He hovered above you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His lips brushed over yours in a soft kiss making your heart stutter. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely above a whimper.

“I know,” he replied, his breath warm against your lips. “But I’m not done with you yet.” His voice was a low growl, rough edges softened by something tender and utterly consuming. “I just want to make you feel so good.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your head sinking back into the pillows. “You did, Logan. I promise—”

He cut you off with a smirk, the curve of his lips playful and dangerous. “Okay, then,” he drawled, his tone dropping to something darker, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you’re good, I want to hear you whimper my name.”

Before you could protest—or agree—his hand slid down your body, his touch slow and deliberate. His calloused fingertips brushed over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before they dipped lower, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching toward him as his hand moved closer, teasing and torturously slow. Logan’s gaze never left yours, and the intensity in his eyes made your pulse race.

“Logan…” you moaned softly, his name slipping from your lips like a reflex as his fingers finally slid between your thighs.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble of satisfaction. His touch was firm but unhurried, exploring you with a focus that made your head spin. His thumb moved in a way that had your legs trembling, and when his fingers pressed exactly where you needed them, your back arched off the mattress, a gasp spilling from your lips.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t quite believe the way you were unraveling beneath him. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, the tension coiling tighter with every stroke.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak—all you could do was feel. Logan was relentless, his lips brushing against your neck, your collarbone, and your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses that made your skin tingle. He alternated between soft and demanding, his touch a perfect balance of control and devotion.

“Logan,” you whimpered again, your voice breaking on the syllable as the pressure built impossibly high, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.

“There it is,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips ghosting over your ear. “That’s my girl.”

The words sent a jolt of heat straight through you, and with one more perfectly placed movement of his hand, you shattered. Your body arched into him as pleasure crashed over you, wave after wave, his name tumbling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan didn’t stop right away—he worked you through it, his hands steady, his lips murmuring quiet praises against your skin as you rode out the high. By the time the tremors subsided, you were trembling, your body utterly spent.

He finally pulled his hand away, his touch leaving a trail of warmth in its absence. Logan leaned down, brushing his lips over yours in a kiss. 

“Still with me, darlin’?” he asked, his voice soft, his smirk replaced with something gentler as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

You managed a weak nod, your body still buzzing, and Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rumbling.

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand slid up your back, holding you close as your head rested against his chest. “Because I think you’ve got one more in you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your cheeks flushing. 

“What?” Logan murmured, his smirk teasing and wicked as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. His breath was warm against your skin, and the way his lips lingered made your stomach twist with anticipation. “Told you, I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could reply, his hands began their slow descent, tracing the curves of your body with deliberate care. His palms were warm and rough, gliding over your hips and your thighs. Every touch felt like a promise he had no intention of breaking.

“Logan…” you started, but your words dissolved into a shaky exhale as his fingers found the sensitive spot just above your knee, kneading gently before sliding higher.

He shifted above you, his movements unhurried, his gaze dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you sprawled beneath him. “You can take it,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants, the fabric slipping down his hips in one fluid motion. The sight of him, the sheer confidence in how he moved, made your breath catch. He tossed the pants aside without a second thought, his smirk deepening as he leaned back over you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“Give me one more,” he murmured, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear. His tone was soft but commanding, his words rolling over you like a wave, pulling you under.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, though it was breathless, tinged with disbelief at his sheer audacity. “I thought this was supposed to be about me feeling good,” you teased, your voice light, though your heart was pounding.

Logan’s lips quirked into a lopsided grin, but his eyes burned with intent. “Oh, it is,” he drawled, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh, pulling you flush against him. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ll feel real good giving me what I want.”

The heat in his gaze sent a fresh rush of anticipation coursing through you, and you felt your teasing resolve falter. His fingers trailed over your skin, mapping every inch of you as if he were committing it to memory. When he shifted lower, pressing his lips to your collarbone, then to the soft curve of your breast, his mouth was hot and insistent, each kiss drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You barely had time to process the way his teeth grazed over your skin, sending sparks skittering down your spine, before his hips pressed against yours, his body slotting against yours perfectly. His movements were slow at first like he was savoring every reaction he pulled from you.

Then Logan whispered, husky and dripping with that dark, primal edge, “I want you to feel it everywhere, darlin’—every inch, every second. No faking this time.”

Your breath hitched, the intensity in his voice making your head spin, your body arching into him in a silent plea. Logan’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin. His hands were everywhere—gripping, teasing, worshiping—making it impossible to think, let alone resist the pull of him.

As his mouth found yours, the kiss was all-consuming with the addictive mix of dominance and tenderness only Logan could manage. You clung to him, your hands sliding over the planes of his back, your nails digging in just enough to make him groan against your lips.

“You feelin’ good yet?” he teased, his voice low and rough, thick with need. His lips hovered over yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath, but not quite touching, a maddening taunt that sent a fresh wave of anticipation rolling through you.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself as his pace shifted. He moved deeper, his hips rolling in a way that made your back arch off the bed, a gasp tumbling from your lips before you could stop it. The deliberate rhythm he’d kept moments ago began to unravel, his movements growing more intense, more insistent.

“Logan,” you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, shaky and breathless.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his voice rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. His lips brushed over your jawline, leaving a trail of heat as they trailed down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When his teeth grazed your skin, a soft cry escaped you, your body tightening beneath him.

He groaned low, the sound vibrating against your neck, as your nails dug deeper into the muscles of his back. “So good for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise.

Your response came in broken gasps and soft whimpers, your head falling back as the sensations overwhelmed you. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, but they grew harder, deeper, until your body melted into the mattress, pliant and trembling under him.

The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, white-hot, and electric until it felt like you might come undone. You couldn’t think, speak—could barely even hold on—your body responding to him instinctively, as though it were made just for this.

“Look at me,” Logan rasped, his voice pulling you back to him. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed, to find his gaze locked on yours, burning and unrelenting. “That’s it, pretty girl. I want to see you.”

His hips pressed into you again, hitting the spot so devastating that your eyes rolled back and a broken cry escaped your lips. You clung to him, your body trembling as pleasure surged through you, raw and overwhelming. His name spilled from your mouth in a whisper, soft and reverent, and it only seemed to spur him on.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice rough and frayed, his movements driving you higher and higher. “Just like that.”

When you finally broke, the world seemed to splinter apart, the sensation crashing over you in waves so intense you could hardly breathe. Your body arched into his, your thighs shaking as your release consumed you, dragging you under.

Logan slowed, his touch gentler now as you trembled in his arms. He pressed soft kisses to your neck, shoulder, and temple, breathing heavily and unevenly against your skin.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now, warm and teasing as his lips ghosted over yours.

You managed a weak nod, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks, and he chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he said, his tone low and full of quiet pride. He tucked you closer against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively, and you let yourself melt into his warmth, utterly spent but completely safe in his embrace.

[anundyingfidelity]

ESCAPADE — Logan Howlett

Summary: For a weekend, you and Logan decide to travel away from the school. Needless to say, you can't keep your hands off each other.

Pairing: Established Logan x female mutant reader. Also teacher!reader at Xavier's school. Set after DoFP ending where everyone is alive because I say so, but can be read however you want lol.

Warnings: pure smut, unprotected p in v, sex at a motel, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, all the smutty stuff.

Notes: main language is not English, but hope you enjoy this filthy drabble. I need him to rail me so bad, bye.

GEN MASTERLIST!

God, he missed this so fucking much.

Logan groans, hands grabbing tightly your hips as you fuck yourself on top of him. Your ass against his skin every time you lower down to impale on his cock, over and over.

The sight is just completely perfect, holding yourself against his abdomen, back against his chest as he rests by the head of the bed.

And shit, he loves to hear you so damn much. Hear you whimper, moan, and sigh with every thrust he gives up to meet your flesh. He even would love to see your tits bouncing in front of him...

“Fuck, yes!”

That sweet out-loud moan leaving your lips causes him to pick up the pace. Your praise never fails to make him go feral, going rough and faster than before.

“Shit, right there- fuck! Feels so good!” Your pussy walls welcoming his cock, glistening with your arousal every time he almost pulled completely outside your hole.

It was your second day in that same motel room, fucking like animals. This wasn’t the plan at all when you originally left the mansion. Both of you just needed to be away at least for a couple of days to have time for yourselves, far from everything and everyone. You wanted to have an actual trip with nice dates, good food, and see the city, but the short time you two had was enough to just have you there on the bed, round after round. He missed your sweet sounds, that dirty side of you when no one was around. How you’d let him rail you as he pleased.

This is all he wanted. It is all he needs right now. You, on top of him, spread and ready for his cock to fuck your guts all day and night.

“Shit, you’re right there already again?” he grunts, feeling himself squeezed by your cunt.

He knows you’re close. And you just came again a couple of moments ago. Neither of you is counting how many times you already came as he fucked you. You whimper again, biting your lip and scratching his skin with your nails.

“Yeah, you there again,” he chuckles with that raspy voice. Immediately, his hands take you by the back of your knees, accomodating you on his lap. You yelp and stop for a second, letting him guide you again. Logan doesn’t give you a moment to get adjusted to new angle, instead thrusting up and fucking you so good that he knows the whole place is now aware of what is happening inside your room.

“I love how you feel around me,” he bites the shell of your ear as you arch your back, head on his shoulder, feeling a sweet release hitting you. “So fucking warm and wet, always ready for me…”

His voice does things on you and finally, your legs start shaking, pussy throbbing around his still hard cock.

“Shit-shit-oh!”

You try to close your thighs together but he does such a great job on keeping you spread for him, your hands are on his wrists trying to keep him away, but as much as you are a mutant yourself, Logan is too fucking strong even for you. You feel that familiar sting on your belly, crying out loud due to the overstimulation. The sensation is everywhere, taking upon your senses.

“Fucking come around me, baby,” Logan hisses, hips stuttering before finally spilling inside you with a low grunt, filling you up to the brim. His thrusts slow down, just enough to make sure you take his hot seed inside your cunt.

And then, in the aftermath, he leans against your cheek, placing soft kisses and mumbling against your ear as you take it all.“Yeah, that’s it… Such a good girl…”

“That was so good,” you mumble, angling your face so you finally kiss him, slow and wet, until he softens inside you. The feeling of his beard burns your skin deliciously every time you kiss. “Tired already?” you tease with a smirk once your lips are apart.

But he is thrusting into you softly again. You moan but smile back at him.

“Y’know I never grow tired of you, I might have to show you again, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, teasingly.

“With pleasure.”

He grunts in response. If only you had more time...

[hyper-fixates]

let me offer some subtle foreshadowing for this oneshot :)

that headcanon was made to be written for dofp/70s!logan cause those kitty ears do be voluminous, but feel free to insert whichever logan you prefer!

tags/warnings: 18+ — afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), oral sex (reader receiving), munch!logan, explicit language, fingering, teasing, use of “baby” once, edging, light biting (let me know if anything was missed!).

Logan is ever the perfect example of a walking contradiction.

A rough voice but gentle words. A soft touch but purposeful fingers. A guarded nature but a caring heart.

He juxtaposes himself. Every characteristic, every feature, has a partner in crime that shows you his versatility as a person and as something more.

The full, styled tufts of his hair graze the inside of your thighs with every deep lick up your slit.

Your legs rest over his bare shoulders while your heels slide up and down his back in restless pleasure; you have to dispel the tension in your muscles somehow.

“You’re shaking, baby,” Logan mumbles against your clit, readjusting the grip he has wrapped around the tops of your thighs.

He’s got you locked down. His hands slid along your hips and around to the top of each thigh, peeling them apart and keeping you tight against his hungry mouth. You couldn’t move in the slightest even if you tried. And you’ve tried.

A light gasp is ripped from you as his lips catch your clit. “It’s j-just, ah, a lot,” you breathe, eyes fuzzy with bliss.

Everything between Logan’s warm tongue to the ends of his hair brushing up against the tender skin along your thighs has introduced your body to new lengths of perception its never experienced before.

He’s been toying with you for half an hour. Half an hour of fleeting kisses, firm licks, and harsh sucks to your clit with the occasional finger or two pumping slowly inside you to back you away from the edge you’ve been chasing.

He’d take his mouth off of you, slipping his index or middle finger, or both, inside you as a reprieve; it would calm your impending orgasm but still keep you excited enough to soak his fingers for the few minutes he’d be pumping them into you.

You think he’d be able to get off on the sound of your cunt swallowing his fingers alone—a subtle squelching that puts just how desperate you are on display.

Logan pulls away from your pussy, turning to smear wet, messy kisses along the inside of your left thigh—this does nothing to soothe your aching cunt. If anything, it makes it worse. Feeling him right there but not where you want him.

“You want a break?” He asks, still scattering kisses while he loosens his grip on you, rubbing his hands comfortingly around your hips. You grab two of his fingers and squeeze them in your grip lovingly.

You arch into the touch slightly with a protesting groan. You don’t have the energy to lift your head to meet his playful hazel eyes, so you speak to the ceiling. “No—keep going. It hurts,”

Everything is on fire. Everything is throbbing. Your cunt is sore, tired of the teasing, but you want more of it. You want to drip through his sheets, coat his tongue, and feel the tips of his hair caress the sensitive skin inside your thighs.

“Mhm, I know, I know.” He gently nips at the skin adjacent to your cunt along the crevice of your thigh, not trying to break skin or leave a mark.

Your swollen clit gladly welcomes his clever tongue back. He gives three broad strokes before sliding down to your hole, lightly prodding it in quick motions that makes the tip of his nose bump against your clit.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck,” you whine, nearly wanting to start kicking against his back.

He buries his face so deep in you that his hair brushes your thighs with each keen mouthful of your pussy. Up, down, up, down.

You barely hear his moans over your own, but you know they’re there. You can feel them. They travel right through you—they vibrate against your clit—and you start clenching around nothing.

You want to clamp your thighs together, but his strong hands keep you open, and there’s nothing you can do but take it.

It’s a whole different level of euphoria when you aren’t able to control your pleasure. Logan knows that, and he likes to abuse that knowledge.

Your lungs can’t seem to get enough air to make up for how fast Logan’s stealing it from you with every stroke of his tongue.

He wraps his warm lips entirely around your clit, sucking just enough for your muscles to tense as he flicks the bud soothingly with the tip of his tongue.

You’re basically crying out with every exhale, wrapped up in tingling, sharp pleasure that has your lower body burning and every part of your cunt begging for relief.

“Oh, please. Please, please, please,” you chant, sliding a hand through his hair and grabbing a handful to anchor yourself.

He grunts, giving a hard roll of his tongue that has you coming on his sheets.

Thankfully, Logan doesn’t push you any further, even if he likes to most of the time. He gives mercy to your cunt, removing his mouth but letting a curious finger slide along your slit and down to your hole to feel how much cum he’ll get out of you.

He pushes in an inch or so, feeling your walls fluttering and pulsing.

You might be numb down there now. You nor your body acknowledge his wandering finger.

You lay with your eyes closed as you try to control your rapid heartbeat. A careful hand glides up along your side to your chest before stopping at the base of your neck.

You crack your eyes open to see Logan leaning beside you, gaze tracing down your quivering body.

“Nice work,” you say, a satisfied smirk pulling at your lips.

He raises a brow. “You do something long enough…you get good at it.” He shrugs, matching your wicked smirk.

A hundred-something years of experience, you remind yourself.

He lets himself fall on top of you, his damp facial hair chafing against your throat as he presses firm kisses along your jaw in praise.

Two fingers press into your cheek, turning your head towards his. You let your neck roll to the side.

His lips catch your own. You let him work your mouth open, tasting the remnants of your cum as he drags his tongue over yours enthusiastically.

“I’m so fucking hard right now,” he says against your lips, giving you a rather forceful kiss before you have to pull yourself away to laugh.

Logan is someone that will always give you both sides of himself—hard and soft, rough and gentle, stern and loving.

You feel very lucky to get it all.

[silverskyeline]

.・✭ FANFIC MASTERLIST 13/11/24 ✭・.

⭐ personal favourites // 🔥 smut // 🐻 fluff // 💔 angst

ੈ♡˳ Wolverine

✩ worst wolverine ✦ ⭐🔥 'messy' (nsfw) - worst!logan x f!reader // logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) ✦ ⭐🔥 'hunger' (nsfw) - worst!logan x f!reader // logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. (3.9k words)

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

✩ old man logan ✦ 🔥 'look at me' (nsfw) - oldman!logan x gn!reader // logan can't fuck like he used to, but you don't care. you get on top, gladly taking care of him in return (2k words) ✦ 🔥 'forever in blue jeans' (nsfw) - oldman!logan x f!reader // riding old man logans thigh while he wears jeans (500 words) ✦ ⭐🔥 'my man' (nsfw) - oldman!logan x gn!reader // he's irresistible in that work suit of his, so much so that you decide to treat him with it on. (1.3k) ✦ 🔥 'big bad wolf' (nsfw) - oldman!logan x f!reader // request: 'couples halloween costumes with old man logan who will begrudgingly dress up for his girl'. (400 words) ✦ ⭐🔥 'disobedience' (nsfw) - oldman!logan x f!reader // moodboard + drabble. (100 words) ✦ ⭐🐻 'domestic life' - oldman!logan x gn!reader // domestic life with logan headcanons (700 words) ✦ 💔 'the man in the mirror' - oldman!logan x gn!reader // comforting logan as he questions his identity (600 words) ✦ 🐻💔 'always' - oldman!logan x gn!reader // logan is struggling to look after himself, you trim his beard while he sleeps. (800 words)

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

✩ general logan / aus / other ✦ 🔥 'nsfw alphabet headcanons' (nsfw) - logan x gn!reader // the word 'logan' for the nsfw alphabet (800 words) ✦ ⭐🔥 'dirty little secret' (nsfw) - logan x f!reader // logan finds that you've left him a little gift behind, and he just can't help himself. (1.2k) ✦ ⭐🔥 'baby fever' (nsfw) - logan x f!reader // after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) ✦ 🔥 'branded' (nsfw) - logan x gn!reader // wearing logans dog tags as you ride him (300 words) ✦ 🔥 'joyride' - (nsfw) logan x f!reader // logan fucks you on his (scotts) motorbike in the middle of the forest because you can't keep it down inside the mansion. (1.7k words) ✦ 🔥 'heavy metal lover' (nsfw) - logan x f!reader // imagine logan is in a metal band and he uses you before every gig in his dressing room (300 words) ✦ 🔥 'save a horse, ride a cowboy' (nsfw) - cowboy!logan x gn!reader // riding cowboy logan (370 words) ✦ 🔥 'life with lumberjack logan headcanons' (nsfw) - a collection of domestic headcanons for lumberjack logan (600 words) ✦ ⭐🔥 'bad idea, right?' (nsfw) - dofp!logan x f!reader // your father hired him to protect you, not to fuck you. but logan never really liked playing by the rules. (1.7k) ✦ 🔥 'strangers' (nsfw) - logan x f!reader // the stranger in the leather jacket at the bar wants you as much as you want him. (800 words) ✦ 🔥 'the animal in the cage' (nsfw) - logan x gn!reader // you return each week to watch the stranger in the cage, desire swirling in your mind. there's no way he'd ever look at you too. . . right? (830 words) ✦ 🔥 'hands' (nsfw) - logan x gn!reader // moodboard + drabble, taking his fingers in your mouth (60 words) ✦ 🐻 'sunflowers' - logan x gn!reader // moodboard + drabble, logan buys you sunflowers (100 words) ✦ 🐻💔 'im sorry' - logan x gn!reader // logan would never hurt you, but in his nightmares he's often not able to control his claws - he's hurt you, the one thing he never wanted to do. (1k) ✦ 🐻 'soft' - logan x gn!reader // imagine playing with logans hair (500 words) ✦ ⭐🐻 'snow day' - logan x gn!reader // logan hates the snow, hates that it reminds him of the past. but he soon finds that being with you gives it a whole new meaning. (1.1k) ✦ 🐻 'halloween' - logan x gn!reader // carving pumpkins with logan. (200 words) ✦ ⭐🐻 'that funny feeling' - logan x gn!reader // no matter how hard he tries, logan can't escape one simple fact. he's falling in love with you. (900 words) ✦ 🐻 'number one fan' - rockstar!logan x popstar!wade // rockstar logan meets popstar wade backstage. what could go wrong? (1.1k words)

[claws-and-quills]

Hot Blooded

A/N: This takes place during Days of Future Past. There's just something about Logan dressed in those tight ass jeans and wearing that silk button-up that just does something to me.

CW: Breeding Kink, Some Choking, Oxygen Deprivation, Overstimulation, Oral (female receiving), Unprotected Sex, Mentions of Blood, Marking, Primal Dom!Logan, Jealous!Logan, implied age gap, established relationship, Mentions of Male and Female Anatomy

Genre: Smut, some Fluff at the end

Pairing: DOFP!Logan x Fem Reader

The club was packed shoulder to shoulder with a sea of dancing bodies. 70's disco blared over the speakers loud enough to make the bones in your body vibrate with every beat of the bass. Sure, you and Logan had been sent back into the past to fix and repair things between Charles and Erik, but that didn't necessarily mean that you were going to be a stickler the entire time. What better way to blend in than this? While you were jovial and lively, Logan remained more on the stoic side of things.

He watched you closely while you leaned over the pool table. His eyes slowly dragged across the curves of your breasts and waist, then along the curves of your ass and thighs. The spandex pants you wore clung to your curves in all the right places. His eyes trail back up along the length of your legs and the subtle curve of your back just above your hips. Reaching into the front pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a cigar and places it between his lips. Lighting the end of the cigar, he takes in a slow drag from it; the smoke slowly curls and swirls into the air from the flame.

“It's not rocket science, bub. C'mon, it can't be that hard, now can it?” He husks, smoke slowly billows from his mouth and nose as he speaks. You could feel his body against yours as he leans over you, resting his hands over yours to help you line up your shot against the number 2 ball. “Nice and easy, draw back, and shoot.”

The cue ball collides against the 2 and sinks it into the corner pocket. “Good girl. Now, let's see if you can do it to the 4 ball. Just like I showed you.” He pulls away to watch you. Your heart was pounding in your chest and ears. Parts of you wishing he hadn't pulled away. The overpowering aroma of rustic oak, leather, mint, and tobacco lingered in your senses. He smelled heavenly to you, and looked even better. You lift your gaze to be fixed on him. He was a fine piece of work indeed. Your eyes follow him as he walked around to the other side of the table, his eyes trained on you. There's a cocky smirk at his lips as his eyes trailed down to the teasing amount of cleavage your crop top had been showing off.

“Enjoying the view, Logan?” You finally ask with cocky confidence as you line up your shot against the 4 ball. Cursing under your breath as it rolls just short of the pocket. Perhaps you had spoken too soon, not that you minded. Despite his stoic exterior, Logan looked to be in his element. He was already a few beers deep into the evening and seemed to be enjoying himself with you even though you had to practically drag him out here.

“Don't go gettin’ too cocky now, bub. There's still plenty to go. We're just gettin’ started,” he exhales another plume of smoke before grabbing up his poolstick. You couldn't help but stare and drag your eyes across his body. The way his hair was slicked back, the first two buttons of his shirt were undone, showing off a teasing amount of hair on his chest. His dog tags hung lazily around his neck, drawing your attention to them. A familiar heat began to grow between your thighs, but who could blame you? There was something about seeing this side of Logan.

You prop yourself up onto a stool that sat catty-corner to the pool table. Grabbing up your bottle of beer and tipping your head back, you take a long drink while watching Logan. He was definitely beating your ass at this game of pool, but you didn't mind it. In fact, you were enjoying yourself a little too much to even care if you lost this game. You were far too engrossed in the atmosphere. The blaring music, flashing lights, the sea of bodies that covered the dance floor, the stylish clothes, but most of all, you got to have this moment with Logan. You watch intently as he sank several of the striped pool balls into the pockets around the table.

The atmosphere of the nightclub almost hypnotized you. It was so easy to lose yourself. Your body swayed slightly in rhythm with the melodies of the songs that blared over the speakers. It wasn't until you heard an unfamiliar sound of someone clearing their throat that you tuned back into reality. Your brows furrowed slightly at the sight of an unknown man leaning against the table. He rested an elbow on the table, his eyes trained on you which made you shift your weight and lightly tug at the hem of your top, adjusting its position to try to cover yourself from the prying eyes of the stranger.

“What's a foxy mama like you doin’ sittin’ here all by yourself? You look like you're ready to be jivin’. C'mon, let me show ya a good time.” The man gives you a wink and steps closer to you. The expression you held didn't seem to be enough to deter him away. “C'mon, don't be playin’ hard to get. A fine piece of ass like that oughtta be down for a piece of this. C'mon, babe. What's it gonna take?”

You feign a fake smile, setting your beer down and gesturing with your head towards the pool table where Logan had just aggressively struck the cue ball against the striped 9 ball. “It's gonna take you gettin’ through him. You're welcome to be my guest, but truthfully, I really wouldn't advise it.”

The man follows your gaze. He let's out a hefty snort of laughter. Something about his body language told you that this wasn't going to end well. “Pffft, you have got to be trippin’. Don't tell me you seriously came here with your Pops. Hey! Hey Pops! You mind if I borrow your daughter here for a quick sec?!” The man calls out over the music towards Logan. You swallow dryly at the death glare that glazed Logan's eyes. His eyes narrowed at the close proximity that this stranger had to you. In that moment, the small crowd of people that had been occupying the pool tables and dartboards had shifted their attention towards you, Logan, and this stranger.

Logan sets the poolstick down across the table. His movements were rigid and deliberate; his eyes never leaving from the stranger as he approached the table you sat at. He reaches in front of the stranger, placing himself in the middle of you and him as he grabs his glass of whiskey and tosses it back with ease. He stands there in silence for a few moments before curling an arm around your shoulders. There's a smug smirk at Logan's lips as he does so, as though daring this fool to say something else. You lean into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his waist after sliding your arm underneath his leather jacket. He arches a brow at the stranger, inclining his head just slightly. You could feel how the muscles along his back and sides tensed and flexed with the movement.

“Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time, Pops. But since you're right here, guess I'll go ‘head and ask ya again. You mind if I steal your daughter away here for a little bit? It's a Saturday night, and she is just lookin’ foxy as hell. And you, well, you look like maybe you can use a night to yourself. Y'know, can go get your jive on.” The stranger very stupidly jokes towards an unfazed Logan. The corners of Logan's mouth pull into a tight smile, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle slightly as he forces out a hearty laugh. This leads to the stranger and his subsequent group of friends to also erupt into laughter.

“I heard you loud and clear the first time, bub. Either you're incredibly ballsy, or incredibly stupid to ask me the same question twice.” Logan gently pulls away from you to step towards this stranger. Logan towered over the man with ease. “Now…do yourself the favor, and get out of here kid.”

You watched intensely at the exchange between the two. Of the years you've known Logan, never had you ever seen this side of him before. Seeing this side of him had you turned on and wanting more. Judging by the body language on Logan, this wasn't going to end well at all. You slide off the barstool, moving to stand beside Logan. “Lo…just leave this putz be. He's not worth getting riled up over. Besides, we have a game to finish.” You press your body against his arm while rubbing his chest. You could feel the way the muscles of his pectorals rippled and flexed. A groan falls from your lips as the stranger opens his mouth again, and Logan gives you a look worth a thousand words.

“Look, I'm jus’ sayin’, dude. An old man like you can't possibly keep up with a fox like her. So why don't you go back to your little game, an’ let me jus’ take–” Before the stranger can finish his sentence, Logan slugs him across the jaw, followed by kicking the knees out from under the man. You cover your mouth in both shock and amusement as the scene unfolds before you. The stranger is obviously dazed and confused on the ground. Logan snatches him by the scruff of his collar with a menacing snarl.

“Now listen here, bub. I tried to be nice. I did. But you just don't know when to shut the fuck up. Keep your fucking hands and eyes off my girl. Get out of here, you're not worth the fucking time,” Logan threatens, kicking the stranger in the ribs. The poor putz scrambles to get to his feet, tripping on his own feet while shooting a death glare towards Logan. He returns his attention towards you, snaking an arm around your waist to pull you against his body. You knew damn good and well that Logan wasn't one for public displays of affection, but his possessiveness over you turned you on beyond comprehension.

“Someone is getting jealous. He isn't even worth getting riled up over, Lo. Let's just enjoy ourselves while we can.” You say lowly while rubbing his chest. A small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips while you fiddle with the button on his shirt. He could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. “Or…we can ditch this place all together.”

“I thought you'd never ask.” He husks under his breath. Inclining his head, he gestures for you to head towards the exit of the club. His eyes were now trained on you as he followed closely behind. Every step he took was calculated, deliberate, and held purpose. Once outside, he shrugs out of his leather jacket to offer it to you as you both approach his motorcycle. “Once we get to the hotel, that ass is mine.”

A high pitched yelp escapes your lips at the sudden sting of his hand colliding against your ass. The spandex pants you wore didn't help one bit. The small layer of fabric didn't provide much protection for your ass. The skin there burned from the initial impact, but you knew you wanted more. You watch as Logan gives you a satisfied smirk while swinging a leg over his motorcycle while he waits for you to get situated behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist, resting your hands near the insides of his thighs. As he kick starts the engine, the vibrations of the rumbling engine made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Once you nod against his back, he revs the engine, speeding out of the parking lot.

The wind whipped through your hair as Logan weaved through the traffic on the streets. The night life was so much different from what you were used to back home. Parts of you wished you could stay in this time, this moment. You pull yourself closer against his back, one of your hands crept closer towards the inseam of his jeans and inching closer towards the ever growing bulge hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. You eagerly palm his hardening cock through his jeans. A soft ‘fuck’ falls from his lips, only to be swept away in the icy wind of the night. The ride back to the hotel felt like it would never end. Throughout the entire ride, you agonizingly teased him and palmed his throbbing cock to the point the sexual frustration was beyond evident in his eyes. He brings the motorcycle to a screeching halt in the parking lot of the hotel, where he eagerly disentangles himself from your arms.

“You're fucking mine. You've been driving me crazy all fuckin’ night dressed like that.” Logan growls as he stands and pulls you against his chest. His lips crash into yours for a feverent and needy kiss. His hands grips your hips, nails digging into the tender flesh just above the waistband of your pants.

“Then make me yours. I'm all yours.” You breathe into the kiss. The primal growl that came from Logan, rumbled through his entire body. The hunger in his eyes made every fiber in your burn. You needed him to fuck you, to claim you. Using his height and body, he guides you to back up towards the entrance of the hotel. Once you manage to turn your back to him, he's following behind you again like a hungry wolf that's ready to devour you.

Your words drive him over the edge. He fumbles with the key-card to get into the room. His lips and breath are hot and demanding against the hollow of your neck. Once the door is open, you both nearly tumble to the floor in a frenzy of needy touches, kisses, and hands roaming across the spanse of each other's bodies. Logan's hands find their way to the bottom most curves of your ass, hefting you up against his body. Your legs wrap around his waist as he pushes you against the wall in a heated kiss. His teeth scrape against your lower lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. Obeying, your lips part and his tongue eagerly roams and explores the inside of your mouth. The kiss swallows your pitiful and needy moans as you taste Logan. You could still taste the faint remnants of whiskey and cigar on him, but it was intoxicating. Your hands eagerly work away the buttons of his shirt, roaming across his chiseled chest.

He slowly ruts his hips against yours. The friction elicits a heated whimper from you. “Logan, please…” you plead pitifully, raking your nails down his chest.

“Please what?” He growls while sucking on your lower lip. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me, Logan. Fuck me. Make me yours. Ruin me…” Another gasp falls from your lips as you're carried over to the bed, where he roughly sets you down. His lips crash against yours again; his hands grip your hips with a bruising strength before roaming up your body to just below your breasts. His fingers hook the hem of your crop top, pulling the fabric up and over your head and arms. Another moan is pulled from your lips at the rough sensation of his beard against the sensitive skin between the valley of your breasts. His mouth leaves a trail of hot kisses down your chest and abdomen, his tongue dipping into your navel before sinking his teeth harshly into the flesh just above your hip.

“Logan…Oh fuck…” you mewl helplessly as you lean back onto your elbows and kick your shoes off. He merely responds with another primal growl, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants and eases them down your thighs, tossing the garments somewhere across the room. Your eyes flutter as he kisses and nips a trail along the inside of your thighs. The scruffiness of his beard scratches at your skin, making you involuntarily try to close your legs, but he growls in protest, curling your legs over his broad shoulders. He locks gazes with you while placing a hungry but chaste kiss over your clothed clit. The dampness of your arousal against your panties grew more with every aching second that passed.

“Keep those legs open. I'm just getting started with you,” he commands through a husk against you. Using two fingers, he tugs your panties to the side to expose your glistening cunt. The hunger in his eyes grew more primal as he eagerly dipped his head into you. His tongue dragging agonizingly slow through your slick folds. His moan vibrates against your clit and quivering pussy as his mouth encases your clit. His tongue draws tight, deliberate circles around your bundle of nerves. He pulls away just enough to grab your panties into his other hand, tearing the flimsy fabric in half and tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder. Your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping tightly and guiding his head back towards your needy cunt.

“Oh fuck…fuck…Logan…” you mewl at the sensation of the heat of his mouth against your clit. Your eyes flutter again as his tongue works you like a puppet. Every flick against your clit sent bolts of electricity through your body. He groans against you at the sensation of your nails digging into his scalp. Without warning, he plunges two thick fingers into your sopping pussy, earning a pleasurably pained squeal from you. A soft whimper escapes you as he pulls his fingers out, only to ram them into you again, this time deeper. Your walls flutter around his fingers, signaling to him to slowly fuck his fingers in and out of your needy cunt while he continued to eat you out. Soon enough, the room is filled with the squelching sounds of your pussy being ravaged by Logan.

With every pump, twist, and curl of his fingers, the fire in your belly grew hotter and hotter. You began to instinctively grind your hips onto his fingers and mouth. The harshness of the stubble on his chin left your legs trembling. With every flutter of your walls, Logan worked his fingers deeper into you, curling them upwards against your g-spot. The sensation makes your vision go white for a split second as you beg for him to do it again. He flicks his tongue against your clit in rhythm with the way he fucked his fingers deeply into you. This was enough to make the coil in your stomach become harder to control. Your thighs began to tremble and shake, the walls of your pussy convulsing as your orgasm grew nearer.

“L-Logan! Oh fuck!” You cry out helplessly as the first wave of your orgasm rocks through your body. He pulls his fingers out, your squelching orgasm following right behind. There's a dark chuckle that rumbles in his chest as he eagerly laps up your orgasm. Your legs tremble uncontrollably as you try to push him away. The sinful sounds of your squirting orgasm splashing against his chin and onto the floor fills the room. You cover your mouth to muffle the squeal that is pulled from deep within your chest. With every panting breath, your chest rises and falls, gasping for air.

“Fuck…you're doing so well. So good. I'm not finished with you.” He spoke gruffly. You lift your head to gaze at him. His chin, throat, and chest all glistened with remnants of your orgasm. His hair was a disheveled mess; his shirt bunched up and wrinkled around his waist. You swallow thickly at the prominent bulge in his jeans. He makes quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it somewhere across the room. His eyes drank in your form, dragging across the curves of your body. “Turn over. Hands and knees. Now.”

Just as you turn to get onto your hands knees as commanded, you hear the familiar clink of his belt buckle falling against the floor. After kicking off his jeans and boxers, he kneels behind you, swiping his fingers through your pussy once again. You grip the sheets in your fists at the sensation of him slowly dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds. Lining himself up properly, he slams into you, snapping his hips and burying his entire length inside of your sopping cunt. He snakes an arm around you, his hand finding your throat, digging his thumb and index into your pulse. He leans into you, forcing your knees deeper into the mattress as his chest presses against your back.

“When I'm finished with you, no other man is gonna lay his eyes on you. Everyone is gonna know just who you belong to.” He husks against the shell of your ear, earning a needy whimper from you. As he sits back up onto his knees, he drags his nails down your throat and chest, across your abdomen, and up onto your hip. He sinks his thumbs into the dimples just above the crest of your hips, pulling out of you, only to slam into again. His movements are forceful, powerful, and deliberate. Each snap of his hips rocks your entire body.

The grip he used to hold onto you with was bound to leave bruises, but you didn't care. You wanted him to mark you as his own, to claim you, to ruin you for any other man. Small, pitiful squeaky moans escape you with every thrust that rocks through your body. The room is soon filled with the sounds of the bed creaking, mixing into the symphony of pitiful squeaks and moans that Logan is able to force out of you, and the sinful sounds of skin colliding against skin. You pant raggedly, gripping the sheets tightly and biting onto the corner of a pillow as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

He drags a calloused hand up the length of your spine, stopping at the nape of your neck, where his fingers become entangled into your hair. He tugs harshly, pulling your head away from the pillow, your mouth falls open into a small ‘o’, a symphony of broken profanities fall from your lips. You manage to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder. The veins in his arms bulged slightly under his skin, small beads of sweat decorated his chest in a slick sheen of moisture that made his skin glisten in the pale moonlight. His hips snap against your, hitching forward as he grinds his cock deep into your sweet, tight, pussy.

“Fuck…you feel so good on my cock. You're taking me so well. Look at you…fucking beautiful.” He husks while leaning down to kiss and bite the back of your shoulder. His canines sank deep into your flesh, threatening to draw blood. You cry out helplessly at the searing pain. Hot blood pricks at your skin; the pain is soothed at the sensation of Logan's tongue tracing the rapidly bruising skin with his tongue. A shaky whimper falls from your lips as he pulls out, resting on his knees. “Turn over. Wanna see that pretty face while I fuck a baby into that tight, little pussy.”

Your legs felt like jello beneath you. He releases your hair, grabbing onto your hips to help roll you onto your back. His eyes rake over your body, snarling grin as he licked his lips. Your blood still fresh on his tongue; the metallic taste drove him wild. You weren't sure what came over Logan, but you wanted everything he had in store for you. Cupping a hand under one of your knees, he hikes it up onto his hip, placing his other hand on the mattress next to your head as he buries his entire girthy length into you again. Your eyes flutter at the sensation of being filled by him again. Your chest rose and fell with every gulp of air you tried to suck down while he fucked you into the mattress. Small grunts and growls fell from his lips, mixed in with small words of praise towards you.

You curl your legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper. This encourages him to lean over you completely, his forehead pressed against yours. His dog tags dangle carelessly around his neck, swinging with every hitch and snap of his hips against yours. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pull him into a needy and breathy kiss. Your tongues meet in a flurry of passion, allowing you to taste the remnants of your orgasm on his breath. His hand finds its way back to your throat; his fingers digging into your pulse and making your head spin at the sudden lack of oxygen. Your eyes flutter as a familiar coil begins to twist in your stomach. Within seconds it's impossible to hold back. Your walls flutter and contract around his cock as your second orgasm surges through your body, blurring your vision.

“Oh fuck. Such a messy girl. So fucking messy.” He groans against your lips. Slowly, he moves his head to the valley between your breasts. His breath is hot and needy; his tongue swirls around the tender bud of one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches upwards into him at the sensation. His hand slides down your side and onto your other breast. The roughness of his hand felt heavenly on your silky smooth skin as he massaged your breast, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger, earning a high pitched squeal from you.

Within moments, he switches the positions of his hand and mouth. Your nipples grow hard and achy at the attention. Your thighs quiver and tremble around his waist. You knew there was no way you could last much longer. Every fiber in your body felt ablaze as you chanted his name like a sinful prayer while your eyes flutter. Gripping his hair, you eagerly pull his head from your aching breasts. A string of saliva being the only thing still connected between his demanding mouth and your aching nipple.

“Lo…fuck…please…” You pant, unable to form a coherent sentence. The coil developing in your abdomen was growing tighter. There was born possible way you could cum for a third time, but the hungry look in Logan's eyes said everything his mouth didn't. The way his hips stuttered against yours, you knew that he was getting close to his orgasm as well.

“Fuck…M’close too…gonna fill you up, pretty girl.” He growls, gripping the headboard in his fist until his knuckles turned white. You drag your nails down his back, digging your heels into the back of his thighs. Your walls clench around him tightly, sending him over the edge. You gasp as his claws sink into both the mattress and the wall as he paints the inside of your quivering cunt white. The searing warmth of his cum fills and warms you straight to the core. Your nails sink deep into the flesh of his shoulders as your third orgasm wrecks your body, filling the room in squelching sounds.

His hips slow against yours, slowly coming to a stop as he pants heavily against your shoulder. Your legs slowly fall from his waist, trembling uncontrollably from the overstimulation. A small ‘fuck’ comes from his lips as he lifts his head to gaze down at you. Once you both come down from your highs, he retracts his claws and pulls you into a tight embrace, tenderly caressing your arms and back.

“Fuck…did I hurt you? Shit…” He peppers your cheeks in tender kisses as he cradles you. His thumb tenderly caresses the bruising and bleeding bite mark he left on the back of your shoulder. “I got too carried away…”

“Ssshhh….it's okay. I…I liked it…” You assure him and rub his chest. He presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head as he stands up, still cradling you on his arms and walking with you to the bathroom for a much needed hot bath.

“Still though…I got too carried away, bub. Way too carried away…” It was the closest to an apology you'd probably get out of him, but you were satisfied with that. He let's you lay against his chest in the hot water, his thumbs drawing small circles on your hips. You lean into the crook of his chest, sighing contentedly while pressing a chaste kiss over his heart.

“I love you, Logan…”

“I love you too…”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2023 - nothing matters but you

chapter summary: The remaining X-Men come up with a plan to change their present; send Logan back in time to change the past.

word count: 17.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: oooohhhh boy!! i've been waiting for this chapter for so long and it's finally here! i'll have more to say at the end, but for now, and i truly mean it, enjoy!!! <3

warnings/tags: takes place during 'days of future past', dofp!logan, light miscommunication, angst, light violence, blood, character death, fluff, memory loss, happy ending!

series masterlist - chapter 10

The Blackbird landed on the top of the large mountain in front of a monastery. Ororo walked out first, followed by Logan, who paused at the bottom of the stairs to light his cigar, Charles, whose chair hovered down the stairs, and Erik.

They walked to the front of the monastery as Bobby spoke, “Professor.”

Ororo smiled, “Bobby.”

“Hey, Storm,” he replied, giving the woman a hug.

“Hey, kid.” Logan said.

“Professor,” Kitty called out. “You made it.”

The group made their way inside as Kitty explained how the group had been surviving, “Warpath spots them, and I send Bishop back to warn us of the attack before it happens. Blink scouts the next site, and… well, we leave before they ever know we were there.”

“Because we never were.” Bishop said.

“But what do you mean, you were never there?” Logan asked.

Charles looked over at Logan, “she projects Bishop back in time a few days to warn the others of the coming attack.”

“So she sends Bishop back in time?”

“No, just his consciousness into his younger self, his younger body.” Charles clarified.

“Wow.” Logan muttered.

“This might just work, Charles.” Erik commented.

“What might work?” Kitty questioned.

“The Sentinel program was originally conceived by Dr. Bolivar Trask. In the early ‘70s, he was one of the world’s leading weapons designers, but covertly, he had begun experimenting on mutants, using their gifts to fuel his own research. There was one mutant who had discovered what he was doing.” Charles explained.

“A mutant with the ability to transform herself into anyone.” Erik added.

“Mystique,” Peter said.

“I knew her as Raven. We met when we were children. Grew up together. She was like a sister to me. I tried to help her, but only succeeded in driving her away. She hunted Trask across the world, and at the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, after the Vietnam War, she found Trask. And killed him. It was the first time she killed.”

“It wasn’t her last.” Logan added on.

“But killing Trask did not have the outcome she expected. It only persuaded the government of the need for his program. They captured her that day. Tortured her. Experimented on her. In her DNA, they discovered the secrets to her powers of transformation. It gave them the key they needed to create weapons that could adapt to any mutant power, and in less than 50 years, the machines that have destroyed so many of our kind were created. But it all started that day in 1973, the day she first killed, the day she truly became… Mystique.” Charles finished.

“You want to go back there,” Kitty said.

“If I can get to her, stop the assassination, keep her out of their hands, then we can stop the Sentinels from ever being born.”

“And end this war before it ever begins.” Erik spoke.

“I-I can send someone back a couple weeks. I mean, maybe a month, but you’re talking about going back decades. You have the most powerful brain in the world, Professor, but the mind can only stretch so far before it snaps. It would rip you apart. I’m sorry. No one could survive that trip.” Kitty remarked.

“What if someone’s mind has a way of snapping back?” Logan asked. “What if someone can heal as fast as they’re ripped apart?”

---

Logan stood by the table as Charles, Erik, Kitty, and Bobby stood nearby, the rest outside of the monastery keeping watch.

“So I wake up in my younger body, God knows where. Then what?”

“You’ll need to go to my house and find me. Convince me of all of this.” Charles moved closer to Logan.

“Won’t you be able to just read my mind?”

“I didn’t have my powers in 1973. Logan, you’re going to have to do for me what I once did for you. Lead me, guide me. I was a very different man then. You’ll have to be patient with me.”

Logan scoffed, “patience isn’t my strongest suit.”

“You’ll need me as well,” Erik spoke up.

“What?” Logan turned to face Erik behind him.

“After Mystique left Charles, she came with me, and I set her on a dangerous path. Darker path. It’s going to take the two of us, side by side at a time when we couldn’t be further apart.”

Logan looked at Charles who nodded in affirmation, “great,” he muttered to himself. “So, where do I find you?”

“Well, it’s complicated.” Erik said, as Logan shook his head and stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

Logan got onto the table and lied down, Kitty sitting at the head of the table, “basically, your body will go to sleep while your mind travels back in time. Now, as long as you’re back there, past and present will continue to coexist, but once you wake up… whatever you’ve done will take hold and become history. And for the rest of us it’ll be the only history that we know. It’ll be like the last 50 years never happened. And this world, and this war… the only person who will remember it is you.” Kitty took a breath, “all right, Logan, I need you to clear your head and to stay as calm possible.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“If your mind gets rocky, it’ll be harder for me to hold you, and you could start to slip between past and future.”

“What if I need to get a little rocky?”

Kitty lightly shook her head, “think peaceful thoughts?”

“Peaceful thoughts.” Logan repeated. “You have any good news?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t really age, so you’ll pretty much look the same.”

Bobby spoke up, “you won’t have much time in the past. The Sentinels will find us. They always do.”

“And this time, we won’t be able to run. We’ll have no escape. This is our last chance.” Kitty’s hands hovered near the sides of Logan’s head.

“See you all soon.” Logan said.

“This might sting a little.”

---

Logan blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim, warm glow of the lava lamp. Its lazy, hypnotic bubbles drifted in the liquid, but his mind was racing to catch up. The sharp, immediate transition from the future to… this—the past, his past—had his senses momentarily disoriented.

The pressure against his neck snapped him into focus. An arm was draped over his shoulder from behind, soft, warm, and familiar. He shifted his head just enough to glance at the hand resting on his chest. It was delicate, but the grip was firm, like whoever it belonged to had no intention of letting him go.

“Mornin’,” your voice came from behind him, groggy and soft. Your tone was laced with the remnants of sleep but carried the easy, teasing warmth that always seemed to put him off guard.

His heart clenched. You.

You leaned into him slightly, pressing your cheek against his shoulder as you stretched, entirely unaware of the whirlwind in his head. The past, your face, the other you. The fact that he hadn’t seen this version of you in nearly 50 years.

“Didn’t think I’d need to pry you out of bed first,” you teased lightly, your hand giving his chest a playful pat before you settled again. “Usually, you’re already up before the sun, big guy.”

Logan’s jaw clenched at the nickname. His eyes narrowed at the room—a modest hotel room with vintage floral wallpaper and creaky wooden furniture—and the small pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. His leather jacket. Your dress. The pieces clicked into place far too quickly, but they didn’t make it easier to stomach.

He turned his head enough to catch sight of you, hair slightly messy, lips curled in a lazy grin. You were radiant in a way that didn’t match the world he’d just left behind. The world he’d come back to fix. And you had no idea how much he’d missed that expression.

“What’s with the look?” you asked, tilting your head. “Do I have something on my face, or are you just debating whether or not you’re gonna finish that cigar from yesterday?”

Logan shook his head slightly, clearing the fog. “Nah. Just… thinkin’.”

“You?” you quipped. “That’s dangerous.”

“Cute,” he replied dryly, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

You laughed and pulled back, sitting up against the headboard. Your expression softened when you caught a hint of the tension still lingering in his body. “You okay? You seem… off.”

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge to gather himself. “Just didn’t sleep great.”

“You tossed and turned a lot,” you agreed, though your concern didn’t waver. “Another bad dream?”

Logan didn’t answer immediately. The memories of the future, the Sentinels, the war, and your other death pressed heavily on him. Instead, he grunted noncommittally and stood, grabbing his jeans from a chair nearby.

“Y’know,” you said behind him, watching as he pulled on his shirt, “most bodyguards don’t get that much real estate in their boss’s daughter’s bed.”

Logan froze for a beat before throwing you a glance over his shoulder. “Most bodyguards don’t sneak them outta her own wedding either, darlin’.”

You grinned mischievously, leaning your head back against the headboard. “Guess that makes us even.”

He shook his head but couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. You haven’t changed a bit.

Before either of you could say anything more, there was a sharp knock on the door. Logan’s entire body tensed, his senses sharpening instantly. He sniffed the air, picking up the distinct scents of sweat, leather, and gunpowder.

“Stay here,” he said lowly, grabbing his jacket and stepping toward the door.

“Logan, what—”

“I mean it,” he said, cutting you off with a firm glance. The tone in his voice told you not to argue.

He moved toward the door, his hand hovering over the knob as his other reached behind him for the small knife he kept tucked into his waistband. He opened the door slightly, just enough to peer through the crack.

Two men stood in the hall, dressed in dark suits. Their faces were sharp, unfamiliar, but their eyes carried an unmistakable menace.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked gruffly.

“Yeah,” one of them said. “We’re here for the lady. Her father’s lookin’ for her.”

Logan didn’t hesitate. He slammed the door shut and locked it, spinning back toward you. “Get down,” he barked.

“What’s going on?” you asked, but the urgency in his voice made you scramble off the bed.

The door shuddered as one of the men kicked it. Logan growled low in his throat, adrenaline surging as his hands instinctively balled into fists. Bone claws erupted from his knuckles with a sickening snikt, and he turned toward the door just as it splintered inward.

Your sharp gasp filled the room, but there was no time for questions. Logan launched himself at the first man, driving his claws deep into the guy’s shoulder. Blood sprayed across the room as the second man raised a gun, but Logan was faster. He yanked his claws free and swung, knocking the weapon from the man’s hand before driving his claws into his stomach.

It was over in seconds, but the aftermath left the room in chaos. Logan stood over the bodies, his breathing heavy, his shirt streaked with blood. His claws glistened in the dim light, and as he turned toward you, his expression softened.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice shaking. Your eyes were wide, fixed on the bone claws still protruding from his hands.

He hesitated, then retracted them with a shudder, the wounds on his knuckles sealing themselves almost instantly. “I can explain,” he said gruffly.

“You—you just…” You couldn’t find the words.

“Y/N,” he said, stepping toward you carefully. “I need you to trust me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The man you thought you knew had just turned into something else entirely—but it wasn’t fear that kept you rooted in place. It was the way he was looking at you, desperate, protective, like he’d go through hell just to keep you safe.

“I…” You took a shaky breath. “I trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged in relief, though the tension in the room didn’t dissipate. He grabbed a bag from the corner of the room and tossed it toward you. “We need to move. Now.”

Before you could question him further, he bent down, rummaging through the man’s jacket pocket to snag the keys before heading for the door. You hesitated, your mind still racing to process what you had just seen. The claws, the blood, the sheer force he used to take out armed men—it was like something out of a nightmare. But Logan wasn’t the nightmare. He was the only constant in this whirlwind you called your life.

“Y/N,” Logan’s voice broke through your haze. He was standing by the door, his tone sharp but not unkind. “Let’s go. Now.”

You shoved a few belongings into the bag, still half-dressed from sleep, and moved quickly to his side. “Logan, what the hell is goin’ on?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said, keeping his voice low and his gaze locked on the hallway as he peeked out. “For now, we’ve gotta put some distance between us and whoever else your father’s sent after you.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of your father, but you followed him out of the room, clutching the strap of the bag tightly. “How did they even find us?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Logan muttered, leading you down the narrow hallway. His shoulders were rigid, his entire body coiled like a spring. “What matters is keeping you outta their hands.”

The two of you reached the stairwell, and Logan paused at the top, scanning the area below. He tilted his head, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. Whatever he smelled didn’t seem to calm him, but he motioned for you to follow anyway.

You descended the stairs as quietly as you could, your bare feet barely making a sound against the worn carpet. “Logan, seriously, you need to tell me what’s going on. Those… claws, or whatever—”

“Not now, sweetheart,” he interrupted, his voice tense but firm. “We’ve gotta focus on getting outta here.”

You bit your lip, frustration bubbling under your skin. This wasn’t the first time Logan had dodged your questions, but after what you’d just seen, you weren’t about to let it slide for long.

The two of you slipped out a side door into the cool morning air. The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few scattered vehicles. Logan made a beeline for a black sedan parked near the edge of the lot. He unlocked the door and ushered you inside without a word.

“Logan—” you started as he slid into the driver’s seat, but he cut you off again.

“Buckle up,” he said, starting the engine.

You shot him a glare but did as he said, snapping the seatbelt into place. Logan peeled out of the lot, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as his eyes flicked between the road and the rearview mirror.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the hum of the engine and the faint thud of your heartbeat in your ears. You watched him closely, noting the way his jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white around the wheel.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?” you finally demanded, crossing your arms. “Because I think I deserve an explanation after that little… display back there.”

Logan let out a slow breath through his nose, his eyes still on the road. “It’s complicated.”

“No kidding,” you shot back. “Start with the claws. What the hell are they, Logan? And don’t tell me they’re some kind of freak weapon because I saw them come out of your hands.”

He glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable. “They’re a part of me,” he said simply.

You blinked, taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone in his voice. “What do you mean, ‘a part of you’? Like, you were born with them?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he muttered.

You stared at him, waiting for more, but he didn’t elaborate. Frustration bubbled over, and you leaned forward, grabbing his arm. “Logan, I’m serious. I need answers.”

He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he finally looked over at you. “I’ll tell you everything, sweetheart. Just not right now. Right now, we’ve gotta focus on getting somewhere safe.”

“And where’s that?” you asked, your voice softening slightly.

“A place I know,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. “We’ll head north, get outta the city, and figure it out from there.”

You frowned, unsure whether to trust his vague assurances. But the look in his eyes, the raw determination mixed with something you couldn’t quite place—it was enough to quiet your doubts for now.

“Fine,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “But you owe me the truth. All of it.”

Logan smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve always been a tough one, huh?”

“Damn right,” you muttered, crossing your arms again. But despite your defiant tone, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something else—something warm and familiar—when he called you tough.

You didn’t notice the way his grip on the wheel tightened at your response or the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. To you, this was just another chaotic morning in the whirlwind of your life. But to Logan, it was a painful reminder of how many mornings like this he’d lost with you.

---

You tapped your fingers on your thigh, still waiting for Logan to come out of this mansion, which looked like it had seen better days.

You groaned as you tilted your head back, adjusting yourself in the car seat. It had been a while since Logan left the car and went inside, almost 2 hours. You would know, you’ve been watching the clock.

Finally, Logan stepped outside and briskly walked to the car door, opening it for you. “Jesus, what took so long?” You asked, as he grabbed your bag from the backside and guided you into the house where two other men were, one with glasses, the other with long curly hair. “Logan-?”

“You’re staying here.” He stated.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes narrowing at Logan. “What?” you demanded. “You said we’d figure this out together. You didn’t say anything about leaving me here.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, already looking stressed. “Plans changed, darlin’,” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Charles and Hank are comin’ with me. We’ve got somethin’ to take care of, and it’s safer if you stay here.”

“Safer? Logan, this place is the size of a damn castle!” You gestured around the massive entry hall, frustration spilling over. “You’re just gonna leave me here by myself? What if they come for me again? What am I supposed to do then?”

“You won’t be alone,” Charles interjected, his tone measured but polite. He glanced briefly at Logan, as if trying to gauge how much to say. “This house has a number of protections. You’ll be secure here.”

“Secure from who?” you fired back, your eyes darting between the two men. “You all keep throwing words around like ‘safe’ and ‘protected,’ but you won’t tell me from what!”

Logan stepped closer, his voice softening. “Y/N, I know you’ve got questions, and I know this ain’t easy, but trust me. If I thought for a second there was a better way to keep you outta harm’s way, I’d do it.”

You stared at him, trying to ignore the way his voice—the way he called you by name—seemed to ease some of the tension in your chest. But it wasn’t enough. “You always do this,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You make decisions for me like I’m some fragile little doll. I’m not helpless, Logan.”

“I know that,” he said quickly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna take chances with you.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head. “And where exactly are you going that’s so important you can’t tell me?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening. He glanced at Charles, who gave him a slight nod. “We’ve gotta stop someone,” Logan finally said, his voice low. “Someone who’s about to make a big mistake.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your frustration rising again. “That’s all you’re gonna give me?”

“That’s all you need to know right now,” Logan replied. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. “Look, I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back. But for now, I need you to trust me.”

You stared at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and something softer, something you didn’t want to name. “Fine,” you said at last, pulling away from his touch. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”

Logan smirked faintly, though his eyes were serious. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Charles cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Y/N, I understand this is a lot to take in, but I assure you, this is the safest course of action for now. Hank and I will only be gone for a short while.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, glancing at him briefly. “You better be.”

Logan nodded at Charles, then turned back to you. “There’s food in the kitchen, and plenty of space to stretch out. Don’t open the doors for anyone but me or them. Got it?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded. “Got it.”

Logan hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he turned and followed Charles and Hank toward the door. You watched them leave, the sound of the heavy door closing echoing in the empty mansion.

For a long moment, you stood in the middle of the entry hall, clutching your bag and trying to process everything that had just happened. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Guess I’m on my own,” you muttered, heading deeper into the mansion to figure out how the hell you were supposed to pass the time in this massive, empty house.

---

It didn’t take long for you to get bored, even in a place as massive as this. From what you gathered during your first walkthrough, this mansion had likely been a boarding school at some point. The classrooms, rows of bedrooms, and an enormous kitchen all hinted at its past. But now, it was eerily quiet—like a castle frozen in time.

You wandered aimlessly, peeking into rooms and finding nothing but empty desks, dust-covered books, and a growing sense of restlessness. The longer you roamed, the more your mind churned over Logan’s sudden departure. You didn’t want to admit it, but his absence had left a void—a nagging worry that you couldn’t shake.

You sighed, stopping in front of a wide window overlooking the overgrown courtyard. What am I even doing here? you thought. Your fingers tapped against the windowpane as you chewed the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should’ve pushed harder for answers instead of letting Logan sidestep your questions—again.

The faint hum of a clock ticking in the hallway was the only sound accompanying your thoughts. It wasn’t enough to drown out the memories of Logan’s claws unsheathing back at the hotel or the unspoken tension in his voice when he said, “you won’t be alone.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath, turning away from the window. “Stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but cryptic warnings and empty rooms.”

You wandered back to the kitchen, hoping to find something to pass the time. The fridge was surprisingly well-stocked, and you made yourself a quick sandwich. As you ate, your gaze drifted toward the doorway, half expecting Logan to stride through it with that familiar scowl on his face.

But the doorway remained empty.

With a groan, you pushed the plate away and leaned back in the chair. “This sucks,” you muttered.

The silence pressed against your ears as you sat there, tapping your fingers on the table. You couldn’t help but think back to Logan’s expression when he’d left. There was something in his eyes—something heavy, like he was carrying more than just the weight of keeping you safe. He always did that, didn’t he? Took on the burden for everyone else, even if it meant shutting you out.

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. No more sitting around like a damsel in distress, you decided. If Logan was off dealing with whatever ‘big mistake’ he’d mentioned, you’d figure out how to occupy yourself in the meantime.

---

A while later, you found yourself back in one of the old classrooms. The chalkboards were dusty, and the desks were in varying states of disrepair, but it was oddly comforting in a way. You sat down at one of the desks and fiddled with a piece of chalk, drawing random lines on the board in front of you.

The quiet of the mansion felt oppressive. Every creak of the old wood or groan of the structure made your heart skip a beat. You weren’t sure if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you or if there was something more sinister lurking in the silence.

You sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Why’d you leave me here, Logan?” you muttered to yourself. The question hung in the air, unanswered, like so many others he’d dodged over the months.

As you stared at the lines you’d absentmindedly drawn, you thought back to your father. His control over your life had been suffocating, but this—running, hiding, fearing what might come next—was a different kind of prison. Logan had promised to protect you, but how could he if he wasn’t here?

A sudden noise in the hallway snapped you out of your thoughts. You froze, the piece of chalk slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the desk.

“Logan?” you called out, your voice trembling slightly. There was no response.

You rose slowly from the desk, your heart pounding in your chest. The sound came again—closer this time. It wasn’t the creak of the old mansion settling. It was deliberate, like footsteps.

You moved toward the door, peeking into the hallway. It was empty, but the faint sound of movement reached your ears from somewhere deeper in the house.

“Logan?” you tried again, your voice firmer.

Still nothing.

Clutching your jacket sleeve tightly, you stepped into the hallway, your bare feet silent against the worn wooden floors. The air felt colder somehow, and the shadows seemed to stretch longer.

You made your way toward the source of the noise, your pulse quickening with every step. Part of you wanted to turn back, to lock yourself in one of the rooms and wait for Logan to return, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

As you rounded the corner, you saw them. Men in dark suits, their faces obscured by the dim lighting. There were at least four of them, moving methodically through the mansion as if they knew exactly where to look.

Your breath caught in your throat. They weren’t here by accident.

You turned quickly, intending to retreat and find a place to hide, but it was too late. One of the men spotted you, his sharp eyes locking onto yours.

“She’s here!” he barked, and the others turned toward you immediately.

Panic surged through your veins as you broke into a sprint, your bare feet barely making a sound against the floor. You didn’t know where you were running, only that you had to get away.

“Stop her!” one of them shouted, and the sound of heavy footsteps followed you.

You darted into another hallway, your mind racing. You needed a plan, a way out, but the labyrinthine mansion offered no clear escape routes.

A hand suddenly grabbed your arm, yanking you backward. You let out a startled cry, struggling against the grip.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, kicking and clawing at the man holding you.

He grimaced but held firm, dragging you toward the others. “Stop fighting, or this gets messy,” he growled.

“Like hell it does,” you spat, managing to stomp on his foot hard enough to make him loosen his grip.

You broke free, stumbling forward, but another man was already there. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you off the ground despite your thrashing.

“Let me go!” you shouted, your voice echoing through the empty halls.

“Enough!” a voice barked, and the men froze.

A figure stepped out of the shadows—an older man with a cold, calculating expression. You recognized him immediately. One of your father’s men.

“Miss Y/N,” he said smoothly, his tone dripping with false politeness. “Your father’s been worried sick about you.”

“Bullshit,” you snapped, glaring at him. “He doesn’t care about me.”

The man chuckled, a low, menacing sound. “Whether he cares or not isn’t really the issue, is it? You belong to him. And he’s decided it’s time you came home.”

“Over my dead body,” you shot back, your voice defiant even as fear coiled in your chest.

The man’s smile widened, and there was something cruel in his eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

You struggled harder, but the men holding you were too strong. They began dragging you toward the exit, your cries for help swallowed by the vast emptiness of the mansion.

In that moment, a horrible realization settled over you. Logan wasn’t here to save you.

And this time, there was no escape.

---

The room was dim, lit by a single, flickering bulb swaying overhead. The scent of mildew clung to the air, mixing with the metallic tang of rust from the pipes along the walls. You blinked groggily, your head pounding as the events leading up to this moment replayed in your mind.

Interrogation, then murder. That’s how these things went. You knew it, had known it since you were a child sitting quietly at the top of the stairs, listening in on conversations you weren’t supposed to hear. The Romano family didn’t forgive betrayal, and neither did your father.

Your wrists ached where the rough ropes dug into them, tying you to the chair. The metal groaned beneath your weight as you tried to shift, testing the bindings. No give. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

From the shadows, the men emerged one by one, their faces a mix of familiarity and dread. You recognized some from your father’s estate—men who had once tipped their hats to you out of respect, now staring at you like a wolf pack eyeing its prey. Among them was Clyde Romano, his sharp suit immaculate despite the grim surroundings.

“Well, well,” Clyde drawled, adjusting his cuffs as he stepped closer. His cold eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and disdain. “You’ve been a busy little runaway, haven’t you?”

“Fuck you, Clyde,” you spat, your voice steadier than you expected.

He smirked, leaning in until you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Bold words for someone in your position. But that’s always been your problem, hasn’t it? Too much mouth, not enough sense.”

One of the men chuckled darkly, and you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut.

Clyde straightened, motioning for the others to spread out. “See, Y/N, this could’ve all been so simple. You play the good little bride, marry into the family, and keep your mouth shut. But no. You had to run. Had to embarrass your father. And me.”

“Embarrass you?” You barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were your fragile little feelings hurt because I didn’t want to be your trophy wife?”

Clyde’s smile faltered, his jaw tightening. He nodded toward one of his men, who stepped forward and struck you across the face. Pain exploded along your cheek, sharp and hot.

“Watch your mouth,” Clyde hissed.

You turned your head back slowly, your vision swimming. Blood trickled from the corner of your lip, but you smiled through it, defiant. “That all you’ve got?”

Clyde’s expression darkened, and he stepped closer, gripping your chin roughly. “You’re real brave for someone who doesn’t have a way out.”

Your stomach twisted at the truth of his words, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear in your eyes. “Better to die standing than live on my knees,” you shot back.

“Your boyfriend isn’t here to save you, sweetheart,” he said casually, his tone laced with mockery. “What was his name? Logan?”

Your heart clenched at the sound of his name, but you kept your face blank.

“He left you,” Clyde continued. “Just like everyone else will. Because you’re not worth the trouble.”

“That so?” you bit out. “Then why are you here?”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. “To clean up the mess you made.”

Clyde stepped back, giving a subtle nod to one of the men. The air seemed to thicken as the man pulled a knife from his belt, the blade glinting in the weak light.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. If this was the end, you’d meet it head-on, with your head held high.

“Any last words?” Clyde asked, his tone almost bored.

You swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on you. The memories of Logan’s rough hands holding yours, his gruff voice calling you darlin’ in that way that made your chest ache, his eyes softening in those rare moments when he let his guard down.

You thought of him now—miles away, caught up in something you couldn’t begin to understand. If he were here, he’d fight. He always did. But this time, you were on your own.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “Go to hell.”

Clyde tilted his head, unimpressed. The man with the knife stepped forward, and you clenched your fists, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

The blade gleamed, catching the light one last time before it plunged toward you.

And then, there was only darkness.

---

Logan paced the bedroom; he had known something was off the second they got back. For one, you were nowhere in the mansion and your bag was sitting on the couch in the rec room.

Hank hesitantly stood by the doorframe for a few moments before speaking, “there’s a theory in quantum physics that time is immutable.” Logan paused his pacing as Hank continued, “it’s like a river—you can throw a pebble into it, create a ripple, but the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just… keeps flowing in the same direction.”

Logan let out a small scoff, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a fleeting smile. “The B-theory of time.”

Hank blinked, his brows furrowing. “You’re familiar with it?”

Logan shrugged, leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed. “Yeah, I’ve heard it before. Someone once tried explaining it to me—something about all moments in time existing simultaneously. Past, present, future, all laid out like pages in a book.” He tilted his head, his gaze hardening. “Didn’t make it sound any less screwed up.”

Hank tilted his head slightly, caught off guard. “That’s a fairly accurate summation, Logan. I’m… surprised you retained that much.”

Logan’s lips twitched again, but his eyes darkened with a tinge of something that looked like regret. “Good teacher,” he muttered, his voice low. His mind flicked back to the quiet hours spent with you in the rec room at the mansion, your voice steady as you explained the theories of time and space with the kind of patience that used to drive him insane. “Good teacher,” he repeated, softer this time.

Hank didn’t press the matter, though curiosity lingered in his expression. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and continued. “Right. Well, the theory suggests that no matter how many changes we attempt to make, the timeline has a way of self-correcting. That ripple you caused? It’ll still flow back into the current, Logan. That’s why it’s imperative you stay focused on the larger mission—on stopping Mystique before—”

Logan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I know, McCoy. Believe me, I get it.” His voice was rougher now, frustration creeping into his tone. “But I can’t just stand here and do nothing. She’s out there—alone—because of me.” His jaw clenched, the muscles tightening like a vice. “I should’ve stayed with her.”

“And then what?” Hank countered, his voice measured but firm. “Thrown yourself headfirst into whatever danger awaits her without a plan? Gotten yourself killed before you even had the chance to stop Mystique? Would that have helped her, Logan? Or anyone else?”

Logan exhaled harshly, raking a hand through his hair. He hated when Hank was right—hated it even more because staying put went against every instinct he had. He’d lost you too many times before, and the idea of it happening again, here in this warped timeline, made his chest feel like it was caught in a vice.

“Look,” Hank said after a pause, his tone softening. “You’re not doing her—or yourself—any favors by acting recklessly. We need you tomorrow at the hearing. Mystique’s actions will set off a chain reaction if we don’t intervene, and that means we need all hands on deck.” He gave Logan a pointed look, then hesitated before adding, “Besides, the Y/N I met didn’t strike me as someone who’d go down without a fight.”

Logan’s gaze snapped to Hank, sharp and unyielding. “What’d you say?”

Hank shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… she was a little out of her element, sure, but she seemed resourceful. Strong-willed. Determined. She’s not just going to sit around waiting to be rescued, Logan.”

Logan’s shoulders relaxed slightly at Hank’s words, though his face remained guarded. He knew you—knew that fire inside you, even in this lifetime. You’d been through hell and still managed to crack that crooked smile, to tease him when he was too gruff for his own good. If anyone could find a way out of a bad situation, it was you.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried sick.

“She’s got guts,” Logan muttered, almost to himself. “Too much, sometimes.”

Hank adjusted his glasses again, watching Logan closely. “Then trust her to hold her own until we can deal with this together. Running off now would be counterproductive and, frankly, reckless.”

Logan let out a low growl of frustration, but he didn’t argue further. Deep down, he knew Hank was right. If he ran out of here now, he’d jeopardize everything—not just the mission, but the fragile thread of hope that had brought him to this point.

Still, the ache in his chest wouldn’t subside. It never did, not when it came to you.

“She’d better be okay,” he muttered, more to himself than to Hank. “Or I’ll—” His voice caught, and he shook his head. “Never mind.”

Hank didn’t respond immediately. He just watched as Logan sank into the chair by the window, his gaze distant.

For now, all Logan could do was wait.

---

Logan woke up to the sun shining through green curtains as he lay on his side, clutching his pillow. He turned over to look at the holographic clock on the other side of the bed, a stack of books on the table along with a single pen.

“The first time, ever I saw your face.”

He sat up, groggy as he looked at the familiar gold doorknob.

“I thought the sun,” Logan stood up and opened the door as a school bell rang and a kid walked out of their room. “Rose in your eyes.” He saw Bobby standing against a door frame as Rogue walked out and grabbed his hand, the two of them glancing over at Logan before walking away.

Logan walked by a classroom where Kitty was at the head of the room, a hologram in her hands, “Buckminster Fuller is a great example of an architect whose ideas were very similar to those of a utopian future. He would build structures that would work with nature, versus against it.”

He looked down the hall as Beast walked past him, clad in a brown suit, “morning, Logan. Late start,” he chuckled, as Logan watched him walk by.

Logan then walked down the stairs, seeing students converse with Storm. He continued his way down the stairs and into the open area, seeing familiar red hair leaning against the Professor’s open door.

Jean turned to look at him, “hey, Logan,” she softly called out as he glanced her way and back down the other hallways.

He saw a group of students walking huddled together before splitting apart briefly as you walked past them.

Logan’s breath hitched as you walked past the group of students, your hair catching the light streaming through the mansion’s tall windows. You didn’t notice him immediately, too focused on the stack of papers in your arms and the pen tucked behind your ear. He froze in place, his heart pounding like it hadn’t in years—decades, even.

You glanced up just as you passed him, pausing mid-step when your eyes met his. There was warmth in your gaze, that familiar spark he’d seen so many lifetimes ago, but this time it wasn’t tinged with hesitation or confusion. It was easy. Natural.

“There you are,” you said, a small smile gracing your lips as you adjusted the papers in your arms. “I was about to come looking for you. Late morning?”

Logan stared at you for a beat too long, the sound of your voice wrapping around him like a long-lost melody. He blinked, clearing his throat and trying to push past the lump that had formed there. “Yeah... guess so.”

Your smile widened, though your brow furrowed just slightly. “You okay, Lo?” you asked softly, stepping closer.

He managed a nod, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah, just... uh, still waking up, I guess.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him in that way you always used to when something seemed off. “Well, if you’re awake enough, maybe you could help me wrangle some of the kids for class?” You gestured toward the papers in your arms. “I need to grab a few more things, and Laura’s been trying to skip out on physics again. You didn’t even budge when the alarm went off this morning, but you’re lucky Scott owed you a favor, so he covered your history class—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when Logan’s arms wrapped around you, his hold firm but not crushing. His head burrowed into the crook of your neck, and for a moment, everything around you seemed to pause. You blinked, startled, the stack of papers in your arms wobbling precariously before you instinctively steadied them against your chest.

“Logan?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern and confusion. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer right away. His breathing was heavy, his body tense against yours as though he was clinging to something—or someone—he thought he’d lost. The warmth of his presence, his scent of leather and pine, was familiar, but this intensity was new.

You let the silence hang for a moment, your free hand instinctively lifting to rest on his shoulder. “Lo,” you tried again, your tone softer now, laced with the kind of patience that only years together had nurtured. “Talk to me.”

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, but his hands remained firm on your waist. His eyes were wild, scanning your face like he was searching for proof that you were real. For a fleeting second, you caught something raw in his expression—something vulnerable.

“You’re here,” he muttered, almost to himself. His voice was hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in days. “You’re… really here.”

Your brows knitted together as you tilted your head, trying to piece together what could have possibly spurred this reaction. “Of course I’m here,” you said with a small, hesitant laugh, your hand sliding from his shoulder to his cheek. “Where else would I be?”

Before Logan could respond, the unmistakable sound of small, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. A high-pitched voice followed, cutting through the moment like a pebble skipping across still water.

“Daddy!”

Logan froze. His hands fell away from your waist as a little girl with dark hair barreled toward the two of you, her pigtails bouncing with each step. She clung to Logan’s leg without hesitation, looking up at him with the wide, innocent eyes of someone who knew no fear or doubt.

Gabby.

The name surfaced in Logan’s mind like a fragment from a dream, though it came with no context—no memories to anchor it. He stared down at the child, his breath catching as she grinned up at him.

“Daddy, I found you!” she declared triumphantly, like it was a great accomplishment. “Laura said you were being slow again.”

You chuckled softly, crouching down to ruffle Gabby’s hair. “What did we say about calling your dad slow?” you teased gently, though there was no real reprimand in your tone.

Gabby giggled, leaning into your touch. “Only when it’s funny?”

“Exactly,” you replied with a smirk before standing again and glancing at Logan, who still hadn’t moved or spoken. “Lo, you okay?” you asked again, your concern deepening.

Logan’s gaze flicked between you and Gabby, his chest tightening. The ring on your finger caught the light as you moved, and for the first time, he noticed it—the familiar band of gold he’d carried for over a century.

His heart stuttered. You’re wearing it.

“Logan?” you pressed, stepping closer again. Gabby, still holding onto his leg, tilted her head in confusion.

Logan swallowed hard, forcing himself to push past the whirlwind in his mind. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice strained but steady enough. “I’m fine.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t push him. Instead, you nodded toward the stack of papers in your arms. “You sure? Because if you’re about to have an existential crisis, I need you to hold off until after you help me track down Laura. Deal?”

Logan blinked, your teasing tone pulling him out of his daze. He managed a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Deal.”

Gabby tugged at his pant leg, her face scrunched in determination. “Daddy, can we get pancakes after? Laura said she’d eat ten, but I bet I could eat twelve.”

You snorted softly, looking between Gabby and Logan with an amused smile. “You’re not actually gonna let her eat twelve pancakes, are you?”

Logan’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ll see,” he said gruffly, his mind still miles away as he tried to make sense of everything.

You gave him another look, your brows furrowing slightly, but you let it go for now. “Come on,” you said, shifting the papers in your arms. “Let’s get this day started.”

As you turned to lead Gabby toward the stairs, Logan lingered for a moment, his eyes fixed on the gold band on your finger. His thoughts churned, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like a heavy fog.

He needed answers. And he knew exactly who to talk to.

---

Logan pushed open the door to Charles’s office without knocking, his usual roughness softened just enough by the turmoil bubbling beneath his skin. Charles, sitting calmly at his desk with his hands folded, looked up with a raised brow.

“Logan,” Charles greeted, his tone patient but curious. “I wasn’t expecting you so early. Is everything alright?”

Logan stepped inside, closing the door behind him before glancing over his shoulder. He needed to make sure you hadn’t followed. When he was satisfied, he turned back to Charles, his jaw tightening.

“No,” Logan said simply. “We need to talk. Now.”

Charles’s brow furrowed, and he gestured to the chair in front of him. “Please, sit. Tell me what’s troubling you.”

Logan ignored the chair, pacing instead. “I woke up this morning, and I—” He dragged a hand down his face, struggling to find the words. “Chuck, I ain’t supposed to be here. This… this timeline, it ain’t mine.”

Charles’s expression shifted, his calm demeanor replaced with something more serious. “I see,” he said carefully. “Go on.”

“You remember what Kitty did,” Logan said, stopping to lean on the edge of the desk. “Sending my mind back to ’73, to fix everything. To stop the Sentinels.”

“Yes,” Charles replied, his voice steady. “And you succeeded, Logan. The world you’re in now is a result of that success.”

Logan’s laugh was bitter, shaking his head. “Then why the hell don’t I remember it, huh? Why do I remember… all of it? The Sentinels. The Phoenix. Y/N—” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his fists clenching. “She died, Chuck. In my timeline, she died. Jean, too. All of you.”

Charles regarded him quietly, his hands still folded. “Logan, the mind is a complicated thing. It’s possible that in the process of returning you to this point in time, fragments of your original timeline have remained intact.”

“Fragments?” Logan scoffed, pushing off the desk to pace again. “Chuck, this ain’t fragments. I remember it all. I remember her dying six times, dammit. I remember the look on her face when she—” He stopped himself, his breathing ragged.

Charles’s expression softened. “Logan, this is your life now. Whatever timeline you came from, whatever you remember, it’s in the past. This is your reality now. Y/N is alive. Jean is alive. You have a family, a home.”

Logan’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Yeah, but it ain’t mine. This ring—” He held up his own hand with his own ring, the band of gold catching the light. “I didn’t put it on her finger, Chuck. Some other version of me did. And I don’t know how to be him.”

Charles leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “Then perhaps it’s time you learned. For her. For your family.”

Logan stared at him, his chest tight. He wanted to argue, to push back, but the truth of Charles’s words settled heavy in his gut. He’d fought so hard to change the future, to make sure you and everyone else had a chance at a better life. Now that it was here, he didn’t know how to live in it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling shakily. “What do I do, Chuck?”

Charles smiled faintly. “You take it one day at a time, Logan. And you start by going back to her.”

---

You stood in the Professor’s office, your arms crossed, the faint cherry gloss on your lips catching the sunlight through the large windows. You tilted your head slightly, studying Logan as he leaned against the desk, his expression unreadable but tense.

“So…” you began, your voice soft but steady, “you’re from a different timeline? One where none of this happened?”

Logan exhaled heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s about the size of it.”

Your gaze flicked between him and Charles, who sat calmly behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. “And in that timeline…” you hesitated, your voice faltering slightly. “What happened to me?”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes briefly darting away from yours before he forced himself to meet your gaze. The weight of his memories hung between you, unspoken but palpable.

“You didn’t make it,” he admitted, his voice low and gravelly.

The room felt colder, the air heavier as his words settled over you. You shifted slightly, gripping your own arms as if to steady yourself.

“But not this time,” Charles interjected gently, his calm voice breaking the silence. “This timeline is different, Y/N. You survived, as did many others who didn’t in Logan’s original timeline.”

You turned to Charles, your brow furrowing. “How? How is that even possible? Timelines aren’t just malleable—”

“They are when someone like Kitty Pryde is involved,” Charles replied, his tone steady but kind. “Logan changed the future, which altered the past. But it seems his mind retained the memories of his original timeline when he was brought back.”

You looked at Logan, your head spinning as you tried to wrap your mind around what they were telling you. “So… you’re saying that everything I remember—all the years we’ve been together, raising Gabby and Laura—they’re real, but to you, they’re…”

“New,” Logan finished for you. He pushed off the desk, his hands going to his hips as he paced the room. “To me, darlin’, this—” he gestured vaguely at the mansion around him, “—this is all brand new. The last thing I remember before waking up this morning was bein’ in 1973, tryin’ to stop Mystique from killin’ Trask.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. The Logan standing before you was so familiar, yet so… not. He was the same man you’d spent decades with, and yet he wasn’t.

“You’re still you,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan stopped pacing, turning to look at you. His gaze softened slightly, the hard edges of his frustration melting away. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Still me.”

“But you don’t remember Gabby or Laura,” you said, a pang of sadness creeping into your voice. “You don’t remember us.”

Logan’s expression twisted with guilt. “No, sweetheart,” he admitted. “Not the way I should. But I’m tryin’. I swear to you, I’m gonna figure this out.”

You stepped closer to him, your glasses sliding slightly down your nose as you looked up into his eyes. “You’re not alone in this, Logan,” you said softly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

He stared at you, his throat tightening at the unwavering trust in your eyes. Slowly, he reached out, his large hand brushing against yours before taking it fully. “Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough but sincere.

Charles cleared his throat gently, drawing your attention. “The bond you two share has persisted across lifetimes,” he said. “It is not surprising that it remains strong, even now.”

You glanced back at Logan, your fingers still entwined with his. “I guess it’s just one more thing we’ve survived together,” you said with a faint smile.

Logan’s lips quirked upward, just barely. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess so.”

But as the three of you stood there, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger challenge. For now, though, he let himself hold onto your hand, grounding himself in the one constant he’d always known: you.

---

Laura stared across the table at Logan, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of his face as if she were trying to find something different, something off. Meanwhile, Gabby’s bright voice filled the dining room.

“And then, they just grow back their limbs! Like, if an axolotl loses a leg or even its tail, it’s all, poof! Fixed!” Gabby made an exaggerated explosion motion with her hands, her fork clattering against her plate. “Isn’t that cool, Daddy?”

Logan blinked, dragging himself out of his thoughts. “Uh, yeah, kid. Real cool.” His voice was gruff but softer than usual as he glanced at her. Gabby beamed, apparently satisfied with his half-hearted response, and took another bite of her pancake.

“Dad doesn’t even know what an axolotl is,” Laura said flatly, her gaze never leaving him.

Gabby gasped, scandalized. “Laura! Of course he does! He’s Daddy! He knows everything!”

Logan scratched the back of his neck, an awkward chuckle slipping out. “Well, I wouldn’t say everything…”

Laura narrowed her eyes slightly, leaning back in her chair. “You’re acting weird.”

“Laura,” you said gently, walking into the room with a cup of coffee in hand. You leaned against the doorway, your glasses slipping down your nose just a touch as you looked at your daughter. “Be nice.”

“She’s not wrong,” Logan muttered under his breath, but you caught it and shot him a warning look.

Laura crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “He didn’t even laugh at Gabby’s joke about Mom’s coffee yesterday. That’s how you know something’s wrong.”

You hid your smile behind your mug. “To be fair, it wasn’t a great joke, Gabby.”

“It was hilarious!” Gabby protested, slapping her hands on the table for emphasis.

“Sure, sweetie,” you said with a chuckle, walking over to Logan. Your hand found his shoulder as you leaned down slightly. “Why don’t you two finish breakfast? We’ll be right back.”

Logan shot you a look but didn’t argue as you guided him out of the room, your hand lingering on his arm for a moment before you let go. You didn’t stop until you were in the hallway, far enough from the dining room that the girls couldn’t hear you.

“You’re gonna have to stop looking like a deer in headlights every time Gabby says something,” you said quietly, your tone soft but firm. “She’s going to figure it out if you keep that up.”

Logan let out a long sigh, leaning against the wall. “I’m tryin’, sweetheart. It’s just…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“Overwhelming?” you finished for him.

“Yeah. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know how to do this. Any of this. I don’t remember gettin’ married or havin’ kids. And now, I’ve got a eleven-year-old givin’ me the third degree and a five-year-old who thinks I hung the moon.”

“They’re your daughters, Logan,” you said softly. “And they adore you. Just… be yourself. You’ve always been a good dad to them. That hasn’t changed.”

Logan looked at you, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and determination. “And you?”

“What about me?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“How do I do right by you?” His voice was low, the vulnerability in it catching you off guard.

You stepped closer, your hand brushing his. “You’re already doin’ it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll figure this out together. Just like we always do.”

He let out a low huff, leaning his side against the wall, “well, if I have to hear one more word about an axolotl and their gills, I might lose it.”

You leaned into the wall, mimicking Logan’s stance, your lips twitching upward as you adjusted your glasses. “Actually, axolotls have both gills and lungs, so they can breathe underwater and directly from the air. But they rely on their gills more than their lungs because they’re primarily aquatic. Oh, and their gills are those frilly things you see sticking out of their necks—external gills, which are super rare in vertebrates…”

Logan’s eyebrows rose slowly, and a wry grin began to tug at the corner of his mouth as your words spilled out faster than you seemed to realize.

“And did you know,” you continued, your voice picking up slightly as you adjusted your glasses again, “they stay in a juvenile state their whole lives? It’s called neoteny, and—”

Logan finally let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, darlin’, I get it. You’re where Gabby gets it from.”

You paused mid-ramble, your brow furrowing as you looked up at him. “Gets what?”

“The whole talk a mile a minute about stuff that makes the rest of us feel like idiots thing,” he teased, his tone gruff but warm. “She starts goin’ on about somethin’, an’ it’s like watchin’ a little tornado of facts. Now I know where she gets it.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly, a mix of amusement and bashfulness flashing across your face. “I don’t talk that much.”

Logan arched a brow, his grin widening just a touch. “Sure, sweetheart. Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

You huffed, pushing lightly against his chest with the back of your hand, though your lips tugged into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you’re still stuck with me,” he teased, his tone laced with an unexpected softness.

For a moment, you both stood there in the hallway, the din of breakfast chatter echoing faintly behind the door. Logan’s eyes lingered on you, the faint cherry gloss on your lips catching his attention again as sunlight streamed in through the nearby window.

“I really mean it, darlin’,” Logan said after a beat, his voice dipping into something deeper. “You’ve got no idea how much I appreciate you holdin’ this together. All this…” He gestured vaguely, his expression faltering for a second. “It’s a lot to take in.”

Your smile softened, and you reached for his hand instinctively. “We’ve been through worse, Logan. Together. We always find a way.”

Logan’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, the touch grounding him. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Always.”

Before the moment could settle further, Scott and Jean walked past the two of you, entering the kitchen. You grabbed Logan’s hand, “c’mon, I want you to see somethin’.”

You pulled Logan to the doorway of the kitchen, motioning for him to stay quiet. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t resist as he leaned slightly into the frame beside you, peeking into the room. Scott was at the counter, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee, while Jean stood nearby, polishing an apple against her sleeve.

“Why are we standin’ here like—” Logan began, but you held up a finger to shush him.

“Wait for it,” you murmured, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

From behind the island, Gabby and Laura crouched in near-perfect silence. Gabby’s face was alight with glee as Laura whispered instructions, holding a small device that looked suspiciously like something Jones might have helped them cobble together.

Logan squinted. “What the hell are they—”

“Shh!” you hissed, suppressing a grin as Laura pressed a button on the device.

The coffee maker on the counter suddenly sputtered and hissed, steam pouring out in dramatic bursts as it began to shake. Scott froze mid-sip, frowning at the machine.

“What the—” Scott leaned in cautiously, placing his mug down.

With a loud pop, a stream of glitter shot out from the coffee maker, spraying directly onto Scott’s chest and face. His entire upper body sparkled in gold and silver flecks as he stumbled back, coughing in surprise.

Gabby popped up from behind the counter, arms thrown in the air triumphantly. “Success!”

Laura stood beside her, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. “Glitter bomb: 100% effective.”

Logan stared, wide-eyed, as Scott wiped at his face in a futile attempt to rid himself of the glitter. “Girls,” Scott said, his voice low and measured in a tone that suggested he was summoning all of his patience, “what did I say about tamperin’ with the coffee maker?”

Gabby, undeterred, pointed at him dramatically. “You said don’t do it. But you never said we couldn’t improve it.”

Jean bit into her apple, turning slightly away to hide her laughter behind a hand.

“You let them do this?” Scott asked, glaring at her.

“I let them? Scott, they’re your nieces,” Jean said smoothly, not bothering to hide the amusement in her tone.

“They’re your nieces too!” Scott protested, but Jean just shrugged, taking another bite of her apple.

Logan let out a low chuckle beside you, shaking his head. “They’re somethin’ else.”

You grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “They’re just like you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what it means,” you teased. “You’re as much of a troublemaker as they are. Don’t think I haven’t seen the pranks you’ve pulled.”

“Pranks? Me?” Logan’s expression feigned innocence, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Right,” you drawled, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve just coincidentally passed on all your mischief genes to Laura and Gabby?”

Logan let out a soft laugh, his gaze flicking back to the kitchen where Gabby was now dancing around Scott, singing, “Uncle Scott is the glitter king!” at the top of her lungs.

Laura crossed her arms, clearly pleased with her handiwork. “Don’t worry. It’s biodegradable glitter,” she said in a tone that suggested she didn’t actually care about Scott’s glitter predicament but wanted to seem magnanimous.

Scott groaned, his voice rising in frustration. “You two better clean this up. And my shirt. And my—” He gestured vaguely at his glitter-covered face.

Gabby giggled. “Sure, Uncle Scott. Right after breakfast.”

Scott turned to Jean for backup, but she just shrugged again. “You’ll be fine, Scott. You’ve been through worse.”

“Not worse than this,” Scott muttered darkly, picking at a gold fleck on his visor.

You stifled another laugh as Logan crossed his arms, watching the scene unfold with an almost paternal fondness. “They really only prank Summers?”

You nodded, grinning. “Every time. Jean’s always off-limits, but Scott? Fair game. Laura says it builds his character.”

Logan shook his head, still smiling. “Kid’s got my sense of humor, all right.”

“See?” you said, leaning closer to him. “They’re just like you.”

Logan glanced down at you, his expression softening as his gaze lingered. “Guess I’ve got a lot to live up to, huh?”

“You already do,” you said quietly, your hand brushing against his. “More than you know.”

Before Logan could respond, Gabby’s excited voice interrupted. “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see? Uncle Scott’s a walking disco ball!”

You turned just as Gabby bolted toward you both, her small arms outstretched. Logan instinctively crouched to catch her as she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Did you like it, Daddy?” Gabby asked, her face bright with anticipation.

Logan hesitated, his arms tightening slightly around her as he glanced at you for guidance. You smiled, nodding almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah, kid,” Logan said finally, his voice gruff but warm. “You got him good.”

Gabby beamed, hugging him tighter before pulling back to look at him. “Laura says we should do water balloons next time. But I think paint bombs would be cooler.”

Logan chuckled, standing with her still in his arms. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Gabby.”

Gabby laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. You watched the two of them, your chest tightening at the sight of Logan holding her so naturally, even if his memories of her weren’t there yet.

Logan caught your eye, his expression unreadable but intense, as if he were trying to piece together the life he couldn’t remember but was already a part of.

For now, you just smiled, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. “Come on,” you said softly. “Let’s get back in there before Scott recruits you to clean up his glitter.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, his grip on Gabby firm as he followed you back into the kitchen, the warmth of the moment settling around the three of you like a quiet promise.

---

Jean sighed and stepped away, her hands falling from Logan’s temples as she crossed her arms. “I’m sorry, Logan. There’s not much else I can do.”

Logan remained seated, his elbows resting on his knees as his hands clenched together. “So, that’s it? Nothin’? Not even a flicker?”

Jean’s expression softened, but there was a hint of frustration in her voice, more directed at herself than him. “You’ve got a wall in your mind, Logan. One I can’t break through without risking your memories now. If I push too hard, I could do more harm than good.”

He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Feels like I’m livin’ someone else’s life. Like it ain’t mine.”

“You are living your life,” Jean insisted gently. “This is you. You’re just missing… the journey that got you here.”

Logan ran a hand down his face, leaning back in the chair. His gaze drifted to the floor, but his thoughts were miles away. He could feel the weight of everything—the ring on your hand, the way Gabby called him ‘daddy,’ Laura’s quiet smirk when she saw him, the way you looked at him with such love and familiarity. It wasn’t foreign; it was right. But it was also wrong because he didn’t remember any of it.

Jean knelt beside him, her voice quieter now. “You’ve built something beautiful here, Logan. Something you fought for, even if you can’t remember how. Maybe instead of chasing what’s missing, you should try to live in what’s here.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his mind battling with itself. Before he could respond, a voice broke the heavy silence.

“Logan?” Your voice was soft but steady from the doorway.

His head snapped up, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased. “Hey, darlin’.”

Jean rose, excusing herself with a subtle nod toward you. As she passed, she gave your arm a gentle squeeze, her own way of offering support, before disappearing down the hall.

You stepped inside, watching Logan closely as you approached. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my head’s been through the ringer,” he muttered, trying to muster a smirk but failing. “Jean couldn’t find much.”

You perched on the arm of the chair, your hand instinctively reaching for his shoulder. “It’s okay,” you said softly, your thumb tracing small circles over his flannel. “You don’t have to remember everything all at once.”

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s just it. I don’t remember any of it—marryin’ you, findin’ Laura, havin’ Gabby. None of it’s mine.��

Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, but you squeezed his shoulder gently. “It is yours. Maybe not in the way you think, but it’s yours, Logan. We’re yours.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes darker, clouded with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re takin’ this awful well.”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray curl away from his forehead. “I told you when we got married, remember? That no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t remember that, either,” he admitted gruffly, though there was a flicker of warmth in his voice.

“Well,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, “lucky for you, I do.”

Logan’s hand came up, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of his grip spoke volumes.

You brought him into your side, his head resting below your collarbone on your chest, and a small, bittersweet smile crept onto your lips. “It’s kinda ironic if you think about it.”

Logan’s voice was muffled against you, but there was a familiar gruffness to it. “What is?”

“This,” you said softly, one hand brushing through his hair while the other traced idle circles on his shoulder. “You remember all those lives I don’t, and now we’re here, and I’m the one who remembers… but you don’t.”

Logan let out a humorless chuckle, his arms tightening around your waist. “Yeah, darlin’, real funny.”

“Ironic,” you corrected, the corner of your mouth twitching upward, though the ache in your chest lingered. “Not funny.”

Logan exhaled deeply, his breath warm against your collarbone. “Guess I deserve that, huh? All those times, I remembered you, and now you’re stuck rememberin’ for me.”

You stilled your hand for a moment, then leaned back just enough to make him look at you. His eyes were darker than usual, shadowed with frustration and something deeper you couldn’t name. “You don’t deserve this, Logan,” you said firmly. “Don’t ever think that.”

He searched your face, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. “Feels like I do,” he murmured. “Every time I’ve lost you… it’s been my fault somehow. Every damn time. And now—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as though trying to dislodge the thought.

“And now,” you said, finishing for him, “you haven’t lost me.”

Logan’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing unconsciously over the fabric of your shirt where his hand rested on your waist. “Not yet.”

“Not at all,” you said, your voice steady. “You’ve got me, Logan. I’m right here.”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “For now.”

You sighed, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours when it started to drift. “Logan. Stop. We’ve been married for nearly twenty years. I know this is… a lot. It’s a lot for me, too. But you don’t have to figure it all out today, or tomorrow, or even next week.”

He huffed a small laugh, his hand moving to rest over yours. “You always this patient?”

“Only with you,” you teased gently, though the warmth in your voice was genuine. “So don’t make me regret it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and for a moment, his smirk was almost real.

You smiled back, letting the silence settle for a few beats before Logan’s arms tightened around you again, pulling you closer. His head rested against your chest, his body warm and solid against yours, and for a moment, you just held him.

---

Footsteps thundered across the broken ground, and then he was there. Logan dropped to his knees beside you, his hands immediately reaching for you, shaking you gently but urgently. “Sweetheart, no, no—open your eyes,” he pleaded, his voice cracking as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, searching for signs of life.

Your body was limp in his arms, your chest still, your face losing color.

Logan’s breaths came in short, harsh gasps as he pulled you against him, cradling you like you might slip away entirely if he let go. “Y/N,” he whispered, the single word a broken prayer, an unbearable weight of grief choking him. His hands shook as they smoothed over your hair, as though trying to coax you back to him with touch alone.

He didn’t notice Ororo land nearby, didn’t register her sharp intake of breath as she took in the scene. Her hand came up to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror, but she didn’t approach. Behind her, Bobby and Kitty stood frozen, their expressions stricken, but they too stayed back. Even Peter, with his usual strength and calm, had no words.

Logan didn’t care that they were there. Didn’t care about anything except the motionless weight in his arms. He rocked you slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his ragged breaths turned into choked sobs. “You weren’t supposed to—damn it, you weren’t supposed to do this,” he growled, his voice breaking as he fought against the tears burning in his eyes. “Not this time. Not again.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead, his hands shaking as they cupped your face. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice soft and cracked. “You’re stronger than this. You’re too stubborn to leave me. Just—just come back.”

The others stood frozen, unable to move, unable to interrupt the devastating scene unfolding before them. Ororo’s hand clutched her chest, tears streaking down her face as she turned away, giving Logan what little privacy she could in this moment of unbearable pain.

But Logan didn’t notice. He couldn’t notice. His world had narrowed to you—the unbearable stillness of your body, the haunting silence that surrounded you now.

He didn’t let go, even as the destruction around them finally began to settle, the last vestiges of Jean’s power fading into nothingness. His arms tightened around you, his forehead pressing to yours again as he whispered brokenly, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you. I’m so damn sorry.”

Time seemed to stand still in the worst possible way. For the first time in his long, painful life, Logan felt completely and utterly powerless. The ring he’d carried for over a century burned like a brand against his chest, a cruel reminder of all the promises he’d never been able to keep.

Logan buried his face against your neck, his voice raw as he whispered, “I was gonna tell you. About the ring. About everything. You—you deserved to know.” His thumb brushed over your cheek, as if he could will the life back into you.

He pulled back, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish as he gazed down at you. “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking on every syllable. “I’ve loved you through every lifetime, and I’ll love you in the next one, too. But please, sweetheart, don’t make me wait again. Not this time. Please.”

His hands trembled as he touched your cheek again, his thumb brushing over your skin like it might bring you back. “I love you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “I’ll always love you.”

But you didn’t move. Your chest didn’t rise. You were gone.

Logan’s breath hitched as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead—one last desperate, lingering moment of tenderness. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over your still features, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.

Behind him, Ororo, Bobby, Kitty, and Peter stood at a distance, their faces drawn with grief. None of them moved to intervene. They knew better than to intrude on this moment, on Logan’s anguish.

The air felt impossibly heavy as Logan shifted, gathering your lifeless form into his arms. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though handling something too precious to break further. He cradled you close, his head bowing as he let out a shuddering breath. The others watched as he rose to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, though he showed no sign of it.

“Logan…” Ororo began softly, stepping forward.

He didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were locked on you, his focus unwavering. Without a word, he turned away, carrying you toward the bridge. There was no Blackbird to take them home—Jean’s power had obliterated it along with so much else—but Logan didn’t seem to care about the logistics. His only concern was you.

---

Logan jerked awake, gasping, his body tense and drenched in cold sweat. The dim light of the bedroom barely illuminated his surroundings, but he didn’t need it to know where he was. The warmth beside him, the faint scent of your cherry lip gloss lingering in the air—those were enough to remind him. This was 2023. You were alive.

He turned his head to look at you, his breathing still uneven. You were curled on your side, your glasses resting on the nightstand, your hand loosely clutching the blanket. Peaceful. Alive.

“Logan?” your voice, soft and drowsy, broke the silence. You stirred, sensing his distress even in your half-asleep state. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed hard, running a hand down his face. “Nothin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough and unconvincing. “Go back to sleep.”

But you sat up anyway, your hair slightly mussed, your gaze focusing on him even without your glasses. “You had another nightmare, didn’t you?” You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Was it… bad?”

Logan closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. He wanted to lie, to brush it off and tell you he was fine, but the weight of the memory still clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake. “Yeah,” he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, you slid closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. “It’s okay,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m here.”

His body stiffened at first, the vulnerability of the moment making his instincts scream to pull away, but then he let out a shaky breath and folded you into his arms. The solid warmth of you against him—the weight of your presence—was like a lifeline, anchoring him back to the present.

“I dreamed about… losin’ you,” he said after a long moment, his voice low and raw. “It—it was like I could feel it happenin’ all over again.”

Your heart ached at the pain in his tone, but you didn’t pull back. Instead, you tightened your hold on him, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “You didn’t lose me,” you whispered. “I’m right here, Logan.”

His arms tightened around you as though he needed to remind himself you were real. After a few moments, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face like he was memorizing every detail. His hands came up to frame your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I gotta hold you,” he said, his voice gruff but almost pleading. “Just let me—” His words faltered, and he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was desperate yet tender, like he was pouring all the fear and love in his heart into the connection.

You kissed him back without hesitation, your hands resting on his chest. But when he pulled back only to kiss you again—this time slower, deeper—you pulled away slightly, just enough to catch your breath. “Logan,” you murmured, your voice gentle, “are you sure you’re okay?”

His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Just lemme kiss you, please,” he said softly, his voice almost breaking. “Need to feel you. Need to know you’re here.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face. “I’m here,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his again, reassuring him with every touch that you weren’t going anywhere.

Time seemed to stop as you stayed like that, locked in the quiet intimacy of the moment. His hands moved to your waist, holding you securely, while yours stayed on his face, grounding him. Eventually, you pulled back, your noses brushing, your breaths mingling.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along his jawline.

Logan hesitated, his eyes flickering with something raw and unspoken. “Not yet,” he admitted, his voice thick. “Just… don’t leave me tonight, darlin’.”

You shook your head, offering him a soft smile despite the emotion welling in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, wrapping your arms around him again.

---

The Blackbird hummed steadily, the low vibration underscoring the tense silence among the team. You glanced toward Logan, his expression hard and unreadable as he stared out the small window. He hadn’t said much since takeoff, and you didn’t push him. Instead, you’d focused on Jean, who was reviewing the mission details, and Scott, who’d been unusually quiet.

“I can handle this,” Logan had said when you vouched for him earlier. You hadn’t doubted him then, and you didn’t now. But Scott’s skepticism hung heavy in the cabin, evident in every glance he shot Logan’s way.

You let out a soft breath and shifted in your seat, nudging Logan’s arm with your elbow. “Hey,” you said quietly, leaning in. “You good?”

Logan turned his head, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. He nodded, though his jaw stayed tight. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You didn’t buy it, but you let it go. For now.

Scott’s voice cut through the tension. “We’re approaching the drop zone. Everyone stay sharp. This should be quick, but let’s not get sloppy.”

“Sloppy?” Logan muttered under his breath. “We don’t do sloppy.”

Scott shot him a look from the cockpit but didn’t respond, and you bit back a small smile despite the nerves fluttering in your chest.

---

The mission was supposed to be simple. Extract intel, neutralize threats, and get out. But as usual, things didn’t go as planned.

The team moved as a unit through the labyrinthine corridors of the facility, the dim lighting casting long shadows that danced with every flicker of movement. Logan was at the front, claws out, his senses leading the way. You stayed close, your focus split between him and the others.

“Jean, you got eyes on the server room?” Scott’s voice crackled through the comms.

“About twenty meters ahead,” Jean replied, her voice calm despite the rising tension.

Logan’s claws retracted with a snikt as he held up a hand, signaling everyone to stop. His nose twitched, and his head tilted slightly. “Something’s off,” he murmured, his voice low.

Before anyone could ask what, the ground beneath your feet rumbled, and the corridor ahead exploded in a burst of heat and light. You stumbled back, shielding your face, as alarms blared throughout the facility.

“Damn it!” Scott barked. “It’s a trap!”

Logan was already moving, his claws gleaming as he launched himself toward the first wave of attackers. “Get to the server room!” he shouted over his shoulder. “I’ll clear the way!”

“Logan, wait—” But he was gone, a blur of fury and precision as he tore through the enemy.

You exchanged a quick glance with Jean and Ororo before taking off in the opposite direction with them. The mission had gone sideways, but there was no time to panic. Focus was key.

---

You weren’t sure how long it had been—minutes? Hours? The battle had stretched into chaos, and every step felt like a fight to stay alive. You found yourself separated from the others, the air thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

Your powers buzzed beneath your skin, a familiar warning. You’d been careful not to overuse them, knowing the toll it took, but the situation left you little choice. Cornered by a group of heavily armed soldiers, you raised your hands, time itself seeming to shudder as you concentrated.

The soldiers froze mid-step, their weapons hanging suspended in the air. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you pushed harder, distorting the flow of time around you. The strain was immediate, your body protesting as you manipulated the anomaly.

“Y/N!” Logan’s voice cut through the haze, rough and urgent. He appeared out of the smoke, his claws dripping red. His eyes widened when he saw you, the flickering distortion around you making it clear you were at your limit.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice was strained. “Go help the others.”

“Like hell,” Logan growled, rushing to your side. His hand gripped your arm firmly but gently. “Stop this. You’re gonna tear yourself apart.”

“I can handle it,” you insisted, though your knees buckled slightly under the weight of your own power.

Logan didn’t argue. Instead, he scooped you up with a gentleness that belied his strength, cradling you against his chest. The anomaly wavered, then shattered, the soldiers collapsing as time resumed. But the damage was done.

As the world around you stabilized, you felt a strange, disorienting pull in your mind—like something had snapped and splintered all at once.

Logan froze mid-step, a strangled noise escaping his throat. His grip on you tightened as his body went rigid, his breathing shallow and erratic.

“Logan?” you murmured, your voice weak. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His eyes darted wildly as memories surged through his mind—memories that didn’t belong to the man he’d been moments ago.

A wedding. Your smile, brighter than the sun, as you held his hands. The weight of the gold ring he’d finally placed on your finger after lifetimes of waiting.

Laughter. Laura’s tiny hands clutching his shirt as he carried her on his shoulders, her giggles echoing through the halls of the mansion. Gabby’s wide grin as she showed him a picture she’d drawn of the four of you—her family.

Peace. The quiet nights on the porch, your head resting on his shoulder as the stars twinkled overhead.

Love.

A life.

A family.

Logan stumbled, dropping to his knees as the memories overwhelmed him. They were vivid and unrelenting, a rush of emotion and experience that left him gasping for air.

Your hands trembled as you knelt beside Logan, panic bubbling in your chest. His body shook, his breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps. You reached out, gripping his shoulders. “Logan! Please—what’s wrong? Talk to me!”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were wide and unfocused, darting as though he was watching something invisible and overwhelming. His claws had retracted, his hands pressed flat to the ground like he was trying to anchor himself.

“Logan…” Your voice cracked, tears blurring your vision. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I did—please, just say something.”

His breath hitched sharply, and he finally looked at you, though his gaze was distant, almost haunted. “I… I can’t—” His voice was rough, fractured, as though he was choking on the words. “It’s… I remember.”

You froze. The blood roaring in your ears was nearly deafening. “What do you mean? Remember what?”

Logan shook his head as if trying to clear it, but his face was pale, his features twisted with a mix of disbelief and something raw—grief? Love? Fear? You couldn’t tell.

“It’s us.” His hands reached for you instinctively, his calloused palms cupping your face. “I see you. I see…” His words faltered, and his gaze flickered like he was staring into a memory you couldn’t reach. “The wedding. Laura. Gabby. God, darlin’, I see all of it. I feel it.”

Your heart clenched, your breath catching in your throat. “You remember this life?” you whispered, your hands resting on his wrists.

Logan’s eyes, normally so sharp and guarded, now brimmed with something far more vulnerable—tears threatening to spill as his gaze bore into yours. “Yeah,” he rasped, his voice rough, choked. “Not just bits and pieces… all of it.”

Tears continued to blur your vision as you searched his face, struggling to process his words. His hands stayed on your face, steady even though they were trembling slightly, and his eyes darted over yours like he was trying to memorize every detail, afraid you might vanish if he looked away for even a second.

“Logan…” Your voice wavered, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. “You… remember everything?”

He nodded, the movement jerky, uncoordinated. “Yeah. Every damn thing,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “I remember… us. Our life. Laura. Gabby. The day I put this ring on your finger.” His thumb brushed against the gold band on your left hand, his expression flickering between awe and devastation. “I remember it all, darlin’. And it’s like I’ve been livin’ two lives at once.”

Your heart twisted, torn between relief and worry. Relief that he was remembering the life you’d built together—your family, your home—but worry because you knew what this meant for him. Logan wasn’t just remembering. He was reconciling two lifetimes, one full of loss and pain, and one where he’d finally found peace.

You cupped his face now, your hands trembling against his rough, stubbled cheeks. “Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant sounds of the fight still raging in the facility. “You’re here. You’re with me. With us. And that’s all that matters.”

His eyes stayed locked on yours, and you could see the storm of emotions swirling behind them—grief, guilt, love, hope. “It’s real,” he said, almost like he needed to hear it to believe it. “This… all of it… it’s real. I didn’t lose you this time.”

“No,” you murmured, tears spilling freely now. “You didn’t lose me. You’ve got me, Logan. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hands tightened ever so slightly on your face, his forehead lowering until it rested gently against yours. His breath hitched, and you felt the faintest tremor run through him. “I lost you six times, sweetheart. Six times. I held you in my arms while you—” His voice broke, and he sucked in a sharp breath like he was trying to keep himself together. “I can’t… I can’t lose you again. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. “You won’t, Logan. This is our life. Our family. And you’re not gonna lose me. Not now, not ever.”

For a long moment, the two of you just stayed like that, kneeling on the cold floor in the middle of a war zone, holding on to each other like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.

Finally, Logan spoke again, his voice quieter now, though no less weighted. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his tone raw. “I remember us, but I don’t… I don’t feel like the man you married. I don’t feel like Laura and Gabby’s dad.”

Your heart ached at his words, but you held his gaze, your own resolve strengthening. “You are the man I married,” you said softly but firmly. “You’re the same Logan who’s been by my side for twenty years, who’s been an amazing father to Laura and Gabby, who’s built this life with me. I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but it will. You’ll remember not just with your head, but with your heart, too. I promise.”

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling shakily before nodding. “I hope you’re right, darlin’,” he murmured. “Because I don’t wanna screw this up.”

“You won’t,” you assured him. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Another explosion sounded in the distance, and Logan’s head whipped around, his instincts kicking in. “We gotta move,” he said gruffly, helping you to your feet. “You okay to walk?”

“I’m fine,” you said, though your legs wobbled slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. Logan steadied you with a hand on your waist, his touch firm but careful.

“Let’s find the others,” he said, his voice steadying as he slipped back into mission mode. But before you could take a step, he stopped, turning back to you. His hand cupped your cheek again, his eyes soft but serious. “I love you,” he said, the words rough but filled with conviction. “I just… I needed to say it.”

Your breath caught, but you smiled, leaning into his touch. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “Always.”

He nodded once, then released you, his claws sliding out with a familiar snikt. “Stay close,” he said, his tone low and protective as he led the way down the corridor. And though the chaos of the mission loomed ahead, you felt a flicker of hope—because no matter what, you were facing it together.

---

Once back at the mansion, the first things you saw were Laura and Gabby standing by Rogue, waiting for the others to clear the jet before you and Logan stepped off.

Gabby was the first to make a move, walking at a brisk pace until Logan finished climbing down the stairs and kneeled down, “c’mere princess.”

She let out a happy squeal and ran the rest of the way, launching herself into Logan’s arms. “You haven’t called me that in ages!”

Laura walked over to the three of you, giving you a short hug from the side, “weeks, Gabby, weeks.”

Gabby removed herself from Logan’s chest, turning to face her sister, “that’s ages Laura!”

Laura crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in exaggerated disbelief. “It’s weeks, Gabby. Don’t be so dramatic.”

Logan chuckled, low and gravelly, still kneeling on the hangar floor. His hands rested lightly on Gabby’s shoulders as she spun back around to look at him, her big, expressive eyes narrowing in mock irritation.

“Well, she’s right about one thing,” Logan said, ruffling Gabby’s hair. “I haven’t been callin’ you ‘princess’ like I should.”

Gabby beamed, throwing her arms around his neck again. “It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you!”

Behind them, you stood near the ramp, watching the scene with a mix of relief and warmth. Logan caught your eye over Gabby’s shoulder, his gaze softening as it locked on yours. For a moment, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.

Laura’s voice broke the spell. “You’re forgiven this time,” she said with a teasing smirk as she stepped closer. “But Gabby’s gonna milk it for at least a week. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Logan straightened, a hand resting on Gabby’s back as he looked at Laura with that gruff, fatherly affection he’d perfected. “Yeah, well, I reckon I can handle that.”

Gabby grinned triumphantly, glancing between her sister and her dad. “See? Told you I’m his favorite.”

Logan groaned, shaking his head as he rose to his feet, lifting Gabby effortlessly in his arms. “Don’t start that, kiddo. I got room for both of you troublemakers.”

Gabby giggled, but Laura rolled her eyes. “Nice save, Dad.”

You chuckled softly, stepping forward now that the moment felt a little less overwhelming. “Alright, you two,” you said, your voice warm but firm. “Let’s get inside. Everyone’s probably waiting, and your dad looks like he could use a break.”

Logan gave you a small, appreciative smile, one that lingered longer than usual, like he was drinking in every detail of you standing there. He shifted Gabby to his hip and reached out with his free hand, his calloused fingers brushing yours briefly as you both turned toward the mansion.

The walk back was filled with Gabby’s chatter, Laura’s sarcastic commentary, and Logan’s occasional grunt of amusement. But as the four of you crossed the threshold into the warmth of the mansion, you could feel the shift in Logan—a quiet resolve mixed with the raw emotion still simmering beneath the surface.

Once the girls were out of earshot, you tugged gently on Logan’s sleeve, pulling him aside into the quieter hallway. His brows furrowed slightly, but he let you guide him, his hand instinctively finding its way to your waist.

“Logan,” you started softly, looking up at him as the distant echoes of the mansion’s activity faded. “Are you okay?”

Logan’s jaw tensed, his eyes searching yours as though weighing his answer. The soft glow of the mansion’s lights illuminated his face, highlighting the exhaustion and turmoil etched into his features. He let out a low sigh, the sound heavy with emotion, before his hand slid from your waist to cradle the side of your face.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough but honest. “It’s like... I’ve been livin’ someone else’s life for weeks. Like it was mine but not mine, ya know? And now…” He paused, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, his brow furrowing. “Now it’s all there. Every moment. Every damn thing. I remember our girls, our wedding, us. And it’s... it’s real. But it feels like it shouldn’t be. Like it’s a dream I’m gonna wake up from any second.”

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice. You reached up, covering his hand with yours, grounding him. “It’s not a dream, Logan. This is real. We’re real. Laura and Gabby are real. You’re their dad, my husband, and the man who’s been by my side through everythin’. You’ve got us, and we’ve got you.”

His eyes softened, but there was still a shadow of doubt lingering in them. “Feels like I’ve been walkin’ around with a piece missin’, and now it’s slammed back into place all at once. It’s almost too much.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. His heart thundered beneath your ear, fast and unsteady, but his arms came around you like they always had, holding you tightly. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” you murmured. “We’ll take it one step at a time. Together.”

Logan buried his face in your hair, his breath hitching as he clung to you. “I missed this,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Even when I didn’t know what I was missin’, I missed this.”

You smiled against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. “You’re home now,” you whispered. “That’s what matters.”

He nodded against you, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that?” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “Don’t deserve you.”

“You’re wrong,” you said firmly, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek. “We deserve each other. And we deserve this life we’ve built. It hasn’t been perfect, Logan, but it’s ours. And it’s worth every fight.”

Logan’s hand slid to the small of your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles there. His gaze held yours for a long moment before he dipped his head, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, darlin’,” he murmured. “For not givin’ up on me.”

“Never,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. “Now, let’s get back to the girls. They’ll probably think we’re plotting something if we’re gone too long.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in his expression. “Yeah, don’t need Gabby comin’ up with some wild theory about why we’re takin’ our time.”

You chuckled, threading your fingers through his as you began walking back toward the living area. “She’d have us starring in some kind of superhero soap opera.”

“Kid’s got a hell of an imagination,” Logan muttered, though there was unmistakable fondness in his tone.

As the two of you reached the living room, Laura and Gabby looked up from the couch where they were sprawled out with popcorn and a movie on the screen. Gabby’s face lit up when she saw you, and she patted the spot next to her enthusiastically. “C’mon, Daddy! We saved you a seat!”

Logan glanced at you, his lips quirking in a small, grateful smile. “Think I better take her up on that,” he murmured.

“You better,” you teased, giving him a nudge. “I’ll grab some drinks and join you.”

He squeezed your hand once before letting go, striding over to settle between his daughters. Gabby immediately curled up against him, and Laura leaned over to steal a piece of his popcorn, earning a mock growl from him.

As you watched the three of them together, laughter bubbling up from the couch, you felt a deep sense of peace settle over you. Logan might still be navigating the storm in his mind, but he was here. And with time, you knew he’d come to fully embrace the life he’d found again.

and it's a happy ever after!!

this was meant to be much shorter. actually, i originally wasn't going to include logan getting his memories back and just make that into a bonus chapter but i couldn't stand it. if it's gonna be a happy ever after i had to go all the way.

and i have i have an idea of how they found laura that does not involve the logan movie. cause, no, no, no, they are getting their happy ending.

with that in mind, again, if anyone is interested in reading about how reader and logan got married, found laura, had gabby, let me know! or, if you have any ideas of stories you want me to tell with reader and logan don't be afraid to ask! (i might have already started writing for the alternate timeline...)

[carbonfiction]

i’m a resident jean hater because she’s really not all that (she makes me insecure as hell because she’s tall and slim and i’m short and just a liiiittle bit stout) and plus she only has that hot demure boring energy like wheres the fun in that? boring ahh hell😹plus she’s got a fake ass MD. would logan immediately lose interest in her the second charles hires the new young social studies teacher that prances in with her big framed specs, bouncy fat rack curls and nervous disheveled bubbly personality? she has so many facts on the top of her head from all the wars he fought and what?? he also sees her in the lab??? she has a plant mutation and she dabbles in biology???? AND she was in law school????? so she’s got a mouth on her… and when he finds out by eavesdropping that she’s a virgin and a squirter one night that the girls all confess secrets he loses it, completely tuning out jean’s confessions. he wants to ruin that smart girl 🐱 so bad.

can i please take the 🐳 emoji as an anon because this is my third ask and i’m both the bathtub and glasses anon i LOVE to yap

DEAR ANNNONNN HELLOO!! god im so sorry this took so long to reply to🥲 but you ABSOLUTELY can have🐳!!!

Honest that is so real as a fellow stout girlie (despite being on the slightly taller end)

Personally I just could never get into movie jean for a litany of reasons; i was and still am so much more of a storm and rogue kinda girl. And Especially within dynamics w logan; storm as a relationship interest is everything to me. (Ill never forget or forgive for what they took from us dofp stormverine kiss getting cut)

But logan and a fairly 'innocent' mouthy smart girl??? Oh that man is following like a puppy. He his obsessed.

I feel like he would love a smart girl so much. Theres just something so alluring about someone so confident in their knowledge and skills. not to mention the cocky twang of pride that threads through him whenever he sees you correct someone on a piece of info; never condisending but explaining the actual fact to who whomever got confused. (likely poor scott which instantly wins you extra brownie points bc you?? Gorgeous and smart girl happily correcting scott on a mistake??? His knees are buckled)

But there issss another perk of him having a smart, inexperienced girl.. And thats when he can turn his smart, headstrong princess all dumb.

When simple touches from his fingers, tongue and eventually, cock can all change you from chatty, brainy and sometimes even a little bratty into a babbling, brainless mess soaking through his sheets.

Getting to finally fuck the brains right out of his cleverest girls pretty head by way of her tight puffy cunt? Truly his favorite thing at the end of a long day.

(I rambled my way through this im so sorry- is it even cohesive idk?? but i do have manymanymany thoughts on smart girl reader that i might have to expand on at some stage..)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

My 2 favorite moments in First Class are the whole Argentina scene (uwu), and Erik jumping atop Charles and pinning him to the floor/ceiling. Like WHY DID HE DO THAT?? REALLY HIS FIRST INSTINCT TO TOP CHARLES imsorry

LISTEN we appreciate a man who sees an opportunity an takes it

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan When You're Pregnant

I got baby fever rn, some here's some headcanons for when you get pergananant (am I pergot?) with Lo's baby

(breeding kink go brrrrr)(nsfw section below the fluff stuff)

First off, I think we can all agree that no matter what variant Logan it is, whether it's planned or an accident, he's gonna freak out initially when you both find out your pregnant

He'll keep the initial freakout under wraps though.

70s!Dofp Logan, Old man Logan, and Trilogy Logan would probably be the most freaked out

The others, like Origins, Future DOFP, who are a bit more settled in would probably be more ready

Worst Logan? You're gonna need to give him a hug

Moving on

They all step up though, don't worry

Even 70s DOFP, he may be a menace but he sure as hell ain't gonna leave you or his baby alone

ANYWAY

Logan is so supportive of you. He'll constantly be checking on you. He'll be nesting almost immediately so get ready

He will definitely become more protective too. Like a lot. He'll try his best to not be overbearing but he's went lot of his life losing those he loves. He absolutely cannot afford to lose you and ya'lls baby

Lets say for this that you two are in an established relationship, planned or not, I'll leave that to ya'lls lovely imaginations

hes there for every doctors trip, exam, sonogram, etc etc. he doesn't miss a thing and holds your hand the entire time

The first trimester is rough. Mood swings, morning sickness, aches and pain. Logan handles your mood swings like a pro. He always knows just what to say, and he never really can take it personal when you get an attitude with him- mainly bc he likely deserved it with his own sarcasm

He's patient with you when you get snippy at him. He'll give you space when you need it, or will be extra attentive. Whatever you want. He's learned to read your emotions

He'll hold your hair back and rub your back whenever the morning sickness hits. Get you some tea, maybe a little toast if you feel like you can hold it down

One day you just couldn't hold anything down, by evening you're in tears, frustrated with everything. You attempted to eat some saltines and couldn't even hold those down. You're crying on the bathroom floor and Logan sits with you, cradling you in his arms as he says soothing things,

"You're so strong bub. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here."

You'll get backrubs and footrubs anytime you want

The food cravings and constantly being hungry becomes a lot too. It's fortunate that Logan had learned to be a decent cook over time.

He'll insist that you eat only healthy good foods for the baby, but when you look at him with pouty lips and pleading eyes because you REALLY want that extra cheese pizza topped with extra pepperonis and peppers, along with those garlic knots, and chocolate chip peanut butter ice cream, AND caramel sea salt chocolates. He has to give in. he's grabbing his keys and wallet to get what you want

Listen, you totally want to eat healthy for the baby too, and you do! You take your vitamins, you incorporate so much fruit and veggies and whatever else in your meals

But dammit sometimes that baby just wants fries dipped in ice cream and you learned how to sneak those unhealthy snacks under Logans radar

(or so you think, hes' got heightened sense of smell. he DEFINITELY smells the weird junk food you're sneaking)

You're tossing and turning one night, feeling restless and just wanting to eat. You wake him up, chatty as hell and eventually you tell him you want something to eat

"Bub you just had a whole meal 2 hours ago"

"I know just something small. Like a poptart. or a rice krispie"

He sighs. "No more poptarts or rice kripies. I'll make you something."

He closes his eyes, expecting to get another few minutes of sleep before he goes to the kitchen, but he can't feel you staring at him. Hard. He took a breath, pushing the blankets off as he got himself out of bed, heading to the kitchen to make you a good healthy snack

don't worry, he's not mad. he actually finds he loves the pregnancy quirks of yours

when you start getting those random hormone rushes, bursts of energy, running around doing anything and everything he gets so amused. but he loves it too when you also start getting sleepy

he really loves it when you get sleepy because then all you want to do is snuggle with him.

you get borderline violent about cuddling with him. you wrap your entire self around his body and you do not let go. even with his strength it's nearly impossible to peel you off him and if he does (he made the mistake once) you get extremely pissy and teary eyed

He will not let you do anything

and by that i mean you're not carrying groceries, you're not cleaning, you are not allowed to stand on ladders or counters, no picking up heavy things

You and him have a time of night and morning where you snuggle, and he'll designate time to talk to you, give you kisses and say sweet things, and then he'll move to talk to your belly

"Gotta make sure the lil one knows my voice"

He loves resting his ear on your belly, hearing both of your heartbeats.

he'll give you a kiss, then the belly, then you again

You better be ready to be touched a lot. He's always gotta put his hand on you somehow. It's not just about feeling your preggo belly but just you too.

NESTING

yeah, hes gonna drive you insane. He gets the urge to redo everything. the babys room. your room. the entire house/apartment if you're living in one.

He makes your bed the comfiest spot every so that's a perk. tons of pillows, only the fluffiest and warmest blankets

while you make decisions on the babys room together, he really wants to put the stuff together, so you sit in your rocking chair in the room and watch him as he gets angry over the crib instructions

it's really cute when he insists on a more foresty/woodland themed room for your baby.

As you get bigger, he gets more and more protective

he actually growled at someone once for attempting to touch your belly without permission. not a bad thing to have at least

it's a little more embarrassing though when it's your friends that you did say could touch your belly and logans hackles raise over it

he tries to recognize when he's doing too much but he can't help it, instinct.

Logan is over the moon when the baby kicks the face time

he just happened to have his hands resting on your belly

when he felt it, you both jumped, staring at your belly and then each other

when you realized it was the baby kicking, you both were like giddy teenagers

logan puts his head against your belly, waiting for it when the baby kicks again- right on his face

he gets slightly offended

but he kisses your belly anyway, promising your baby that he's always going to love them and take care of them

it pulls on your heart strings a bit

you and logan don't care if it's a boy or girl- and decide to leave it a surprise,

arguing over baby names though wasn't fun. you eventually though land on a name if its a girl, and a name if its a boy, names that you both adored

when you start shopping for baby clothes, logans looking at the little girl dresses and you could see the softness on his face, the way he adored the little dresses.

he can't even get embarrassed

it's so cute watching logan sit in the middle of the girly baby aisle, surrounded by pink bows.

he gets equally excited over the boys stuff too.

forever believe logan will just be a great dad in general

when you get big enough where doing things are hard on your own, logan starts definitely not leaving you alone very often

he helps you out of bed

with your shoes

if hes around and you're trying to get up from a couch or chair- even if you aren't struggling he'll still be there to help you up

you ever see those trends where dads hold mommas belly up to provide some relief? logan will insist on doing that.

he just thinks your so damn cute with your round belly

logan will eventually express his nerves about being a father. he'll need reassurance here and there that you think he'll do good.

you think logan would be an absolutely wonderful father of course. look how good he takes care of you

not to mention his non-bio daughters like jubilee, rogue, and kitty

and if lauras around too, it won't be like he never had any experience

logan will definitely stay calm and collected when you go into labor

he supports you every step of the way

if you're going to a local hospital, you bet your ass he'll be speaking for you and protecting you from anything unneccessary

all the while supporting you every way possible. don't worry about squeezing his hand too hard. he literally survived a nuke

despite the amount of things he's seen, it is still hard for him to see you in so much pain. he may even hold back a tear or two. he has to focus on you though

when the baby is here, he's all over you first, making sure you're okay. then his instincts kick in and he's all over the baby

that first cry breaks his heart and he doesn't like how the nurses and doctors seemed pleased by the whole thing. okay sure, it's a good thing. his baby is still crying though and he doesn't appreciate the smiling

you guys ever see that picture of Hugh bottlefeeding his newborn, i think it was during the x-movies filming. that is such a cute picture honestly it makes my utereus clench

he's so proud and supportive of you by the way. He takes wonderful care of you both when you get home

all that worrying for nothing. he was a pro with yours and his baby.

NSFW (mention piv, breastmilk, body worship)

yes i had to include an nsfw part here dont judge me

Logan should have known it would happen eventually. the way he always needs to finish inside you. even if you were using protection, he should have known that it would fail one day

he'll pick up on the hormones quickly, the smell of you triggers something in him and once you both figure out you'll pregnant itll all make sense

at first things are pretty usual with your sex life but the hormones start kicking in

you start gaining a little fat, your breasts get bigger, maybe your ass

you were already irresistable to logan before. now though, pregnant with his baby?

like i said, the mans always touching on you. when youre in private though hes REALLY touching you

don't worry, you feel the same. your hormones start to really kick in and you're aroused 24/7 and he can smell it

"you look so fucking good like this bub." he'll moan when he's thrusting into you, seeing your swollen belly and breasts.

it's not just about you being pregnant but you two just can't keep your hands off each other because you're happy.

your sex life was already very active, now it's even MORE active, like, you cannot keep your hands off him. he's the same way. you look and smell so damn good he can't take it, he HAS to fuck you

logan being a dad to your baby is making him 10 times hotter

logan probably cuts back on being rougher if you both are into that, much to your disdain. your hormones are on fire and you need him to fuck you hard

it takes a little begging and he breaks, giving you what you want

"look at you bub, fucking begging for it. as if i hadn't given you enough already"

logan practically drools anytime he sees you naked

as you get really big, sex becomes less common because you're not really comfortable, and maybe doctors tell yalls to slow it down for a bit.

logan will of course not do anything to risk you or the baby but fuck when you walk around in that tight black dress, tits and belly all swollen. he can barely stand it.

fortunately even if you aren't having penetrative sex, you're still fairly aroused so logan gets to get off to your hand or mouth. he'll return the favor with some light oral

he'll want to help you shower all the time

you're just so beautiful to him.

when you start getting self conscious over your weight gain, logan won't have it. he'll be doing some serious body worship doing your pregnancy, don't worry.

kissing your stretch marks, his hand rubbing soothingly all over your body as he whispers how beautiful you are

when it's closer to your due date, the doctor gives you a list of recommendations to help get things rolling

when logan finds out sex is one of those things, he's over the moon.

you personally, just want to get the mini canadian out of there at this point

it's not the first thing you try, because youre self conscious despite logans affirmations that he thinks you're so sexy

eventually you give in

lets just say you both were on the way to labor and delivery soon after

he adores your body after birth too. like i said. body worship to the maximum. even when you're not banging cause you need to heal first, he's kissing every inch of you to make sure you know he adores you. he sees how you've looked at yourself in the mirror and he isn't gonna have it

oh btw he'll definitely accidentally taste your breast milk straight from the source at some point. he really doesn't do it on purpose, he just got lost in kissing and sucking on you.

lost in the sauce if you may

he wants you to heal and feel good though, so even after the 3 months are up, he'll want to wait a little longer, because he doesn't want to hurt you. he's a big man.

EXTRAS: (random stuff )

the people who are around you are ecstatic over the announcement of your pregnancy

charles is just glad he gets to be a grandpappy (as if he isn't already)

maybe jean and scott are expecting too, or already have their little one, so you guys bond with the couple over parenting as well

wade immediately refers to himself as uncle wade

will also say "our baby" when referring to you and logans baby. logan does not like that.

wade makes a deadpool onesie. you have to stop logan from tearing it apart

okay but a onesie based on logans suit would be so goddamn cute

i said before that logan doesn't like ANYONE touching your belly. even if it's a trusted friend

if someone asks, very politely, you have to make sure logan isn't around before you say yes.

one time hank asked and you said yes, not realizing logan was coming around the corner. it was really embarrassing the way logan ran up so fast, immediately pushing hanks hand off.

hank laughed it off

im sure yall have your own ideas for what yours and logans baby names would be. I think Charlie would be really cute, naming the baby after charles (and it's a gn name!)

rogue, jubilee, and kitty, would be over the moon. they would be so supportive of you and logan

laura would be so excited, a bit curious. you and logan will make sure she doesn't in anyway feel neglected or replaced during the entire pregnancy and when the baby comes

laura is obviously a great big sister.

they would definitely tease logan too btw

you guys don't even need to register. due to the people you love around you- you basically get everything you need before you 3rd trimester even starts

you and logan can be assured that your baby will always be safe and loved no matter what because of the family you both have found. (yes even with origins and old man logan)

[velvet4510]

Why Magneto’s Storyline in X-Men: Apocalypse is The Worst (it’s not just Cherik)

Ok I just need to vent because this has been chewing away at my brain for far too long.

Cherik is far from the only reason why Erik’s family plotline in X-Men: Apocalypse is some of the stupidest, sloppiest, and most character-ruining pieces of writing I’ve ever seen. Haters may say “oh you’re just upset because he married someone who wasn’t Charles.” But, like, aside from the fact that the original timeline already established that Erik’s top priority was always the fight for mutantkind and he had no interest in settling down - whether that had anything to do with his feelings for Charles or not - the problems with the Apocalypse writing go WAY beyond just him & Charles:

Erik would never abandon his cause at this point. By the end of DOFP, Erik has just been imprisoned for a full 10 years thanks to the JFK situation. Meaning he has spent a full decade being forcibly inactive in the fight for mutants. And he just learned that all of his fears about humans and mutants came to pass in the future to the level where a time-traveler had to be sent to change the past. And he was so set on averting that future that he tried to kill his friend and the sister of the man he loved, and then made a whole speech on international TV begging for the mutants of the world to fight alongside him. This is the POLAR OPPOSITE of a man who would feel like settling down and walking away from the fight within the next decade. The Sentinels being cancelled did NOT make mutant life easy overnight; Stryker was still up to no good, and there is no way that there weren’t others like him doing the same. Yes, Raven’s actions made a very positive difference, but I think we have enough brain cells to agree that this did not mean things for mutants immediately became sunshine and rainbows to the level where Erik - the most (understandably) paranoid character in the X-Men series - would even consider taking a break, let alone giving up the fight permanently. Knowing what he did about the possibilities of the future would’ve made the Erik we know double down on his commitment to his cause and follow up on his actions in Washington.

Erik wouldn’t risk starting a young family at this moment in his life. Erik was a Holocaust prisoner, his people were massacred, his mom was shot when he couldn’t move the coin, and then Charles was shot when Erik accidentally deflected a bullet into him, and then every member of his Brotherhood save Raven were captured and killed. Not only is this more than enough grief for one character to have, but the man wouldn’t dare risk having a new family of his own when everyone he’s ever loved has gotten hurt (largely because of him), and when he’s an international fugitive. That is no time to risk being selfish, and he would know. He would’ve been the first to realize that a potential spouse and child would also end up killed, and so he’d avoid that altogether. In fact, he wouldn’t even consider it, because, as mentioned, he wouldn’t leave his cause behind. You know, if he was actually in character.

Magda is a human. At this point, Erik hates humans. Again, he has just been imprisoned by humans for 10 years for trying to save a mutant, and he just learned that in the future, humans would’ve wiped out mutants, exactly as he feared. Everything that happened in DOFP would only further inflame his already-passionate hatred of humans. He is not in the mental state to even begin to consider Charles’ philosophy and give a human a chance at a relationship, let alone marry a human.

The family lives in Poland. The country where Auschwitz is. The country where Erik and his family and people was imprisoned, tortured, and executed. The country where Erik had to watch Shaw kill his mother. Basically the LAST country in the freaking WORLD that Erik would want to ever see again, let alone spend the rest of his life in. Erik is fluent in multiple languages - he is shown to easily converse in French and Spanish in First Class - and has been all over the world thanks to his Nazi hunting, so if he really needed to flee the U.S., there were a hundred other countries he could’ve gone to and blended into (Canada, France, Mexico, anywhere in South America, heck, he even could’ve discovered Genosha during this time). But in the original timeline, he didn’t leave the U.S. at all despite being a national fugitive after escaping his plastic prison, and he never did get caught again, so….

Erik’s first meeting with Magda is completely OOC for him. Erik mentions that he told Magda who he was the first night they met and he trusted her then. EXCUSE ME??? Erik Lehnsherr does not trust strangers. Erik Lehnsherr does not tell the complete truth about himself and his past to just anyone; look at how deeply Charles had to probe before Erik opened up to him. This stupid line was obviously shoehorned in just to make their relationship seem like perfect soulmates and thus ensure it is doubly tragic when she gets thrown in the fridge 5 minutes later (more on that in a sec). Obviously the intention is for the audience to go “aww, he instantly trusted her, she instantly accepted him, this is true love…” Give me a break. You’re really telling me that Magda met this stranger one night, found out he was none other than the international fugitive who apparently killed the U.S. president and just tried to kill another president on live TV, and went “oh, no problem, honey, let’s make a baby and live the cottagecore dream!” That’s some BS if I’ve ever heard it, and I’m convinced the writers subconsciously knew it; there’s a reason that is revealed in a throwaway line rather than shown onscreen, because then nobody would’ve bought it.

Fridging. Magda and Nina exist in the movie for one reason and one reason only: To get brutally killed and give Erik even more grief and trauma so that he’ll seek revenge on the entire world, aka do what the plot demands of him, aka have the same journey as he did in First Class (more on that in a sec). That’s all. Neither of them are any more than one-dimensional plot devices. They are not characters at all. Magda isn’t even named in the actual movie (he doesn’t even say her name when she dies) - it’s so obvious they didn’t even know what her name would be when they made the movie. This is textbook fridging, and one of the worst examples of it of all time. It’s all the worse considering that Erik never met Magda in the original pre-DOFP timeline, meaning Magda originally most likely lived a long happy life and died old in bed. But now, she gets fridged just because the writers didn’t know what more to do with Erik. It’s misogyny of the highest level.

A parenthood story for Erik was already set up. DOFP already hinted at Erik being a father, with Peter’s comment about his mom. So if the writers wanted to show Erik as a father, and to include Magda, they already had a solution that would seamlessly flow from the previous film - make Erik and Peter’s relationship one of the centerpieces of the story, and let Magda be Peter’s mom! (You know, like she is in the comics!)

It doesn’t contribute anything new to Erik’s character development. From a screenwriting POV, this is unforgivable. May I remind you that Erik’s entire storyline in First Class revolved around grief and trauma for the loss of his family and people, especially his mom, and seeking revenge for it. Giving him a wife and daughter just so they can get killed too adds absolutely NOTHING to his character development. It’s merely retreading everything that already happened in his arc: he loses his family and goes on a roaring rampage of revenge. Completely superfluous, right down to Charles insisting that there’s good in him beyond the pain. The redundancy becomes apparent even in the dialogue, where Charles literally says “I told you since I first met you there’s good in you too.” The script itself can’t help but point out that all of this has happened before and literally nothing new has been added to Erik’s character arc.

See? It’s not just because of Cherik. Erik’s story in X-Men: Apocalypse is an atrocity in basic screenwriting and character development, on every level. And I will always despise it.

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who feels this way…)