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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 months ago

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Slow Dancing and Slow Mornings

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan and you have been kidnapped and you come to find out Logan has been in love with you for twelve years.

Disclaimer: Mentions of kidnapping, explosions, hints of torture, love confessions, Logan gives you a massage. Mostly fluff, little bit of angst, and slow dancing to familiar records. Not proof read.

“What?”

You turned in your chair to try and look at Logan, who wasn’t looking in your direction at all.

The prick stood opposite both of you and just smiled. “What? He didn’t tell you?”

“You…you love me?”

The prick nodded as he placed his hands behind his back. “Has done. For Twelve years.”

“Shut up.” Logan said to him.

“Logan?”

Finally, he looked at you. His expression was twisted with pain.

“You love me?”

Logan nodded. “Have done for twelve years. Thanks for noticing.”

There was no point trying to deny it now. He had loved you for twelve years, and now you were both about to die.

“What didn’t you tell me?”

Logan shrugged. “There was never a good time.”

“A good time?”

“Seems our courageous hero-”

Despite your hands being tied behind your back, you waved the yapper off. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll get back to you. “You never told me because there was never a good time?!”

Logan was a little shocked. “We’re five minutes from dying and you’re mad at me right now?”

“Yeah, sorta! You’ve been in love with me for twelve years and you never told me!”

“It’s not like we had years of spare-”

You shook your head. “Don’t bullshit me, Logan. You had plenty of time to tell me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell, you had twelve damn years.”

Your captor sighed as he crossed his arms. “Perhaps you two can argue-”

“It’s not like I can do anything about it now!”

You looked at Logan, unsure of what to say. Fuck you? You could have done something twelve years ago? Hell, you could have done something last week? Go fuck yourself?

Logan watched as you decided what you were going to say to him. And then the cogs stopped turning in your head and your gaze focused on his soul for a moment, before it became lighter.

“Yeah there is.”

Logan was confused, but just as he was about to ask what, you continued.

“You can tell me if we survive this.”

“Sur-survive what?”

Then a loud crash came and everything turned white.

Slowly, you came to.

The blinding flash and loud crash had sent a shock wave throughout the entire room and somewhere in the rubble, you were lying down, your ears ringing and your head feeling heavier than ever.

You tried your best to make out what everything was. The stone bricks beside you, the dirt beneath your body, the rebar poles sticking out here and there in front of you.

Groaning, you stood before pressing a hand to your head. Bringing it back down, you found an imprint of blood in the centre of your palm.

In the distance, you could see Storm and the others making their way over to Logan. You could have run to him. You were about to.

Then the rubble moved.

Your kidnapper flew through the air and towards the woods.

So you followed.

Logan groaned as he got up, Storm’s hand on his back. Immediately, he started looking for you. And he found you. Flying towards the forest.

He called out your name but you were too far away to hear him.

“Logan-Logan, we’ll go. You need medical attention.” Jean told him. But he shrugged her off.

“I don’t need medical attention.”

With your head pounding, you landed in the general area you’d seen him land. It was a lot quieter now. The lights from the jet were barely visible through the thickness of the shade.

And just as you turned your back, you were sent flying to the ground.

“You still think you can beat me?!”

You groaned as you found the power to stand. “I’m still trying, aren’t I?”

“Just give up. You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Urgh!” You turned around on your heels and looked at him. “Can I at least stop you from talking?”

The prick just laughed. “Let's see if you can try and fight long enough to make this interesting.”

And you tried. You got a few of your own hits in, sending him flying through the branches and down ditches. But with your pounding head and the pain racking through your body with each hit you took, post being buried by rubble.

Once more, you were thrown against a tree and fell into the dirt beneath it. By the time you opened your eyes again, you were met with his figure walking towards you.

“It’s a pity really.” The pain you’d suffered from being tied in the chair a mere fifteen minutes ago twisted inside your body again, only getting stronger by the second. “You didn’t get to tell him you feel the same.”

You managed to catch your breath for a moment. “He knows…”

Your body was gasping for another breath, begging to push the pain away. “He knows.”

The man above you gave you a twisted smile before he twisted your inside a little more. “But he’ll never know how much, will he? How long you went, wishing he’d feel the same. Who knows, maybe I’ll do you a favour and tell him for you once I’m finished with you here.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “It’s okay.”

You watched as the man stood above you went from holding all the power, to holding nothing but confusion.

“I’ll tell him myself.”

As Logan kept running, he was shouting out your name, Storm hot on his tail calling out his. But just as he caught your scent, your colour of power exploded and spread through the whole of the forest. It was strong enough to knock both himself and Storm back.

And as he stabled Storm, he looked in what he guessed was your direction.

“Logan, no-”

“Y/N!”

Logan kept running, his breath sharp against his lungs. You had to be okay. You had to be fighting back. You had to have won.

But as he reached the centre point, he looked around. The smell of dirt and imminent rain clouds messed with his senses as he constantly whipped around in a circle. And then he saw it on the ground.

The necklace you always wore. A locket lay open on the floor, face down. You never let him know what was on the inside.

Picking it up, he brushed the dirt from it and found what was inside.

A picture of everyone lay on one side.

And a picture of him on the other.

He remembered that picture. He remembered you and him being told to stand together in front of the record player stand. At the time, you’d both shared the same neighbour and attended the same dinner party. And after a few glasses of alcohol and some good food, you’d all been dancing to a couple records.

He didn’t even know you’d owned a copy of that photo.

Folding the small picture back, he replaced the photo and snapped it shut.

“I can’t find her.”

Storm’s expression saddened as she slowly approached him. “She’s gone, Logan.”

He looked around again.

“Logan. She’s gone.”

Only when he turned back to face Storm did he feel the tears on his cheek. But he couldn’t face her. His eyes kept looking for you. “She’s-”

Logan’s voice broke with pain. “She’s not.”

Storm placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Logan, she’s gone. You and I both felt it-”

Storm watched as Logan’s head snapped in the opposite direction.

“Logan, she’s gone.”

Then he pulled himself from her and started walking away.

“Logan, where are you going?”

“I heard something.”

And he did hear something.

A few moments later, Storm watched from behind Logan as you climbed up a ditch.

Your face, hair and clothes were stained with blood, ash, dirt and moss. Grasping onto a nearby tree, you took in heavy breaths until you finally looked up.

“Medic!” Storm shouted.

Logan took off running towards you.

“Logan,” you breathed.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You pushed off from the tree and hobbled towards him. “Just shut up and hug me.”

A few more strides and Logan had you wrapped up in his arms, tightly. All he could do was breath you in, feeling your skin bruise under his fingertips as he clutched onto you like a lifeline.

“You’re okay? Are you okay?” Pulling back from you, but keeping your body flushed against his as best as he could, Logan looked you over.

You had a cut on your head and other small scratches. He couldn’t check your body over due to your clothes, but he did try and feel for any more wet patches of blood.

Then you chuckled.

“What?”

“Isn’t there something you need to tell me, Soldier?”

Logan’s gaze ran over your face for a second too long as his brain fought against itself, trying to convince him you were okay, real and most importantly, alive.

Then he remembered.

“I love you,” he breathed. “I have loved you for twelve years. I love you.”

Taking his face in your hands, you looked him over as you smiled. “I love you, too.”

It took Logan a minute before he finally gathered the courage to kiss you. He didn’t want to hurt you. His kiss peppered away across your cheek, down your neck and onto your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you more, holding you in a hug close to him.

A medic was closing in and Logan turned around, you still in his arms. “Come on, we need to get you checked. What happened to-”

“He’s taken care of.”

You looked at Storm. “At the bottom of the ditch. I don’t think he’s gonna remember what happened for a while.”

Storm and Cyclops headed off in that direction whilst your own hands brought Logan’s attention back to you.

“Stay with me?”

“I’m never leaving you again.”

Then he kissed you.

“Come on.”

Two days later, you were fully showered and practically boiled clean of any evidence from what had happened when you had been kidnapped. Your clothes now consisted of long pyjama bottoms, an old t-shirt and a hoodie that you had stolen from Logan’s closet.

The amount of energy your, quite literally, explosive fight had taken from you had been a lot. And it was clear the next couple of weeks would be filled with a lot of sleep and a lot of rest.

Whenever you woke up, it was ninety percent guaranteed Logan would be asleep beside you. And when he wasn’t and you went in search of him, you found him in the kitchen, cooking.

“Here, eat.”

He’d place a bowl or plate of whatever he had made in front of you at the counter before sitting beside you, pulling your chair until it was practically between his legs as he sat turned to you.

A week later, you had woken up snuggling into the crook of Logan’s neck and you stayed there for a while. Until you remembered you needed to shower.

“Do you think you can stand for that long?”

“Probably.”

Logan kissed the top of your cheekbone as he lay beside you. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

And he did.

And the minute you stepped into it, you relaxed against the hot water. Between your fingertips, you let your power flow around your fingers. But you jumped when you felt a familiar presence sit behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“You need to save your energy.”

“All I’ve done for a week is sleep, Logan.”

“You nearly levelled a forest. It’s going to take a while.”

With his thumbs firm against your shoulders, Logan slowly massaged the tension away. A small moan left your lips as you moved your neck, giving him more access to your muscles.

Logan chuckled. “Like that?”

“Love it.”

Logan smiled as he leaned down and kissed the top of your shoulder and behind your ear before continuing to massage away the ache.

Finally finishing in the tub, Logan held up a towel and tried his best to look away as you stood up and wrapped yourself in it.

“You okay?”

“Yep,” Logan strained. “Just…concentrating.”

You laughed a little and blushed. “Thank you for running me a bath.”

Logan looked at you and smiled before you pulled him in and kissed him. “But next time, feel free to join me in it.”

With another quick kiss, you smirked as you walked away leaving Logan both a little in shock and a little embarrassed. He might have loved you for twelve years but sometimes he had to remind himself that you loved him back and you both now had the freedom to…do…that.

A few hours later, after having dinner together, Logan went in search of you. You weren’t in his room, the library, outside or even the living area.

But as he walked back past his room, he heard a familiar sound.

Floating out from your room were the faint sounds of a record playing on the record player. Carefully pushing the door open wider, Logan smiled when he saw you. Fast asleep, curled up on your side, the record had lulled you to sleep.

With a soft smile, Logan closed the door and reached to turn the volume down a little before approaching you.

You felt your bed dip for a minute, but you had already recognised his footsteps and scent from the hallway. And you felt yourself smile and reach out for him. He chuckled.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” you curled into his arms as he lay down with you. “But then I remembered my human heater.”

“Oh, is that my new name?”

“Yep,” you replied, already hearing the smile in his voice and in his heart.

“At least I come in useful for something.”

You smiled. “I can think of a couple other things, too.”

Logan smiled and pulled you up to him a little more. “I’m sure you can.”

Not long after that, you fell asleep.

And when you woke up, your back was flushed against Logan’s chest, your legs tangled in his and his arms wrapped safely around you. It was still dark outside, but there was a little winter sun peaking out, way beyond the trees.

“Where are you going?” Logan’s tired voice asked you as you sat up, his hand by your waist.

Looking back at his bed head and tired eyes, you smiled. Reaching over to your desk drawer, you pulled out your film camera and snapped a picture. Logan groaned, putting his head between your pillows as you chuckled and stood up, placing your camera on the desk once more.

As you stood and rounded the bed towards the record player by your door, Logan reached over and picked up your camera taking a couple of candid shots of his own, of you, as you looked for a new record and placed it on.

“What?” Logan asked with a tired smirk as he lowered the camera.

You smiled tiredly. “Dance with me.”

Logan smiled and gave a fake groan as he pushed himself up from his back and onto his feet, leaving the camera beside your bed.

Walking to you, Logan pulled you to him, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck whilst his hand folded around your other and, holding you by your waist, he leaned into you. Swaying with each other, you let the sounds of the record float over you, giving you both a sense of deja vu.

Twelve years ago you’d made friends with each other and danced at a small dinner party to the very same song. Then you’d been dragged into taking a photo together to have a memory made in time. A few hours later, you had asked for a copy of the photograph of you and Logan.

You hadn’t really known why. You’d only known Logan a couple of weeks. But something told you, you needed a copy of that photograph. And around two years later, you realised why as you folded it in half and placed it inside your locket.

One Logan had fixed for you one Christmas when the clasp had broken.

And, when you had wandered into Logan’s room, in search of his hoodie, you had found a small tin box. A tin box you had opened to find it containing a couple of different sentimental things, including a couple of different photos from over the years.

But one you knew instantly.

Because it was the same one you carried with you every single day.

Looking up at Logan, you found him already looking at you and your heart soared.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Leaning down, Logan pressed a kiss to your lips as his fingertips pressed into your skin through your t-shirt and hoodie. And as he lifted you a little, and spun around, you let out a small giggle.

“Ready for breakfast?”

You smiled and nodded. “Soon. I just want to stay like this for a while.”

Logan smiled and kissed you once more, continuing to dance with you in your room barefoot, letting the sun peek out from beyond the trees before you both finally made your way downstairs for the day.

“Okay.”

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boltwrites · 3 months ago

Note

I haven’t recently thought about Hugh Jackman but this Movie has recently given me hunger™️

Reader/Logan fic hurt/comfort where Logan knew reader in his world (but reader never met Logan in their world) and tries to ignore them out of guilt but reader is persistently trying to be friends w him. Eventually Logan opens up about what happened in his world with reader…

A/N: so uh. i originally wrote this as headcanons in bullet point format but tumblr didn't like it so i had to redo some shit and uh. anyway. it's not my normal fic quality so i'm sorry for that.

in other author's note news - lmk if you want the recipe.

You smiled at Logan across the table as Wade rambled on about something or other. You didn't know him - well, other than what Wade had spouted off about him before inviting you to this make-birthday party after the first one went to shit - but you wanted to.

You didn't exactly know why you wanted that. Maybe just curiosity? Wade did say he'd be living with him for the foreseeable future, and as his neighbor, you should introduce yourself and be friendly, right?

But it was kind of more than that. He was hot. definitely, very hot. Maybe not your usual type - you weren't typically into older men. But there was just something about him. Something magnetic.

Either way, he'd definitely avoided you at that party. spent most of his time sulking in the corner, talking to Al or sometimes Colossus.

You'd walked up to him, smile on your face, and introduced yourself. He'd barely looked at you.

"Nice to meet you," he'd replied, his tone gruff and dismissive. By the way he spoke it sounded less like it was nice to meet you and more like you were inconveniencing him with your mere existence. Like he'd been dreading the idea of you coming over and introducing yourself.

"Wade says you helped stop the time ripper," you tried, willing yourself to ignore how shitty he was treating you. Wade had mentioned that this man - Logan - was a little rough around the edges. rude. A drunk, even. Maybe he just wasn't good with people in general.

"Yep," he replied, shooting you a glare over the glass of - was that pure fucking bourbon? - he was sipping out of. You tried your best not to let it get to you - but you also knew how to take a hint. He wasn't interested in talking. That shot straight to your stomach like a bullet made of embarrassment and guilt, but whatever.

It's fine. you were younger than him by a decent margin. He could probably tell just by the look in your eyes that you were interested in him as more than just a friend. He probably just wanted to shut that shit down as quickly and efficiently as possible. You weren't gonna blame him for that. You've done the same for several weird men in the past - including Wade, before he got the hint and the two of you became fast friends. You weren't necessarily interested in being his post-Vanessa rebound, and he respected that.

So, that's fine, you'd just be nice to Logan. He could be your friend, too. He was rooming with Wade and Al, after all. It would be good to make friends with him.

"Hey!" You smiled when he opened the door a few days after the party. You stood there, hands currently occupied by a tin foil-wrapped package.

"What do you want?" Logan asked, looking you up and down with more paranoia than you'd expected. You thought that maybe he was just uncomfortable with your advances, but this time, it was like he was searching for something. What, you didn't know.

"I just wanted to give you this," you replied, thrusting your gift into his hands - the smooth glass of the pie mold contrasting with the brief brush of his calloused hands. You tried not to shiver.

"It's a pie," you continued on, even as Logan stared off into the distance, at something you couldn't see. "When I saw what you were drinking at the party, I thought you might like it. It's a family recipe. Pumpkin pie with a shitload of bourbon. As a welcome to the neighborhood kind of thing."

You offered him an awkward sort of smile, a little shrug. He blinked, snapping himself out of his thousand yard stare only to glare at you like you'd just offered him a dead animal instead of a home-baked pie. Your blood briefly turned to ice as you wondered if maybe this man was actually sober and you'd mistake the iced tea in his glass as pure liquor. As if Wade ever had that sort of shit in his apartment.

"I-" he looked down at the pie, then up at you, taking a breath as if he wanted to say more, but instead shaking his head, like he was knocking some bit of cobwebs or old dust loose. "Thanks."

He nodded at you in acknowledgement, then slammed the door in your face. Great.

Wade wasn't much help either. He'd returned the pie dish and you'd wrung your hands and asked him if you'd done something that made Logan hate you. The dish was empty, but your stomach churned at the thought of the man just taking a knife and scraping the whole thing into the trash. You'd even made the crust by hand, too.

"Oh, fuck no!" Wade scoffed, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? Listen, if there's anything I know about our not-so-furry friend, it's that he can put up with a metric fuckton of asinine shit. I mean - he's living with me! Do you know how many times he's used his little clawsies to hole-punch my organs? Like - so many!" Wade waved his arms for emphasis. "If he really hated you, he wouldn't just sulk around about it like a teenager - no! He'd hurt you! Like the kind of teenager that would shoot up their local high school!"

You rolled your eyes at Wade, but you knew that's just how he was. No filter, all idiocy. "Did he - did he at least try the pie," you asked, voice a little more hopeful than you'd meant for it to sound.

"Try it - fuck! That man has full-tilt sprinted at me on all fours and I've never seen him so animalistic. He was eating that pie like it would crawl inside his dick itself and pull out an orgasm. I swear - and may Thor strike me dead and then mourn my fried corpse - that he actually growled when I asked for a slice."

You didn't believe Wade for a second, but fuck. at least that made you feel better. You offered him your thanks and a sweet smile as you received your dish and promised to make him something "Wolvie" wouldn't hoard when you brought something over next. You promised to try your best.

Really, what you'd try your best at was winning this shy Wolverine over to your good side. You didn't want to force him to be your friend, obviously - but if you had made a bad impression, even if that impression was solely based on the fact that you were also friends with Wade - you wanted to make it right.

So you did everything you could. Baked and cooked and offered the results up whenever you could afford the extra ingredients. Made sure to snatch up any packages bound for Wade's apartment so your notorious Amazon thief didn't have the chance to. You even dog-sat that nasty looking creature Wade had adopted - she was very sweet, but you had nightmares about that tongue.

It all came to a head, one day. One day when you almost brained yourself walking up the stairs.

You'd been holding grocery bags - supplies to make your perfected mac and cheese recipe - head down as you ascended the steps. That was, until you ran into what felt like a brick wall. Or, an iron one. Your shoulder smacked whatever it was and you jolted backwards, gasping as you dropped the bag you were holding to cling to the railing-

Only to catch and grip tight at thin fabric as a firm, steel-strong arm wrapped around your waist. You finally caught your breath, lungs filling and then immediately vacating as you locked eyes with none other than Logan.

"Fuck."

Both of you said it. But you gasped, it, breathless and dreamy. Meanwhile he spat it, like he knew something like this would happen, and he'd been planning his whole day to avoid it.

As soon as you found your footing again, he threw his arm away from you like you'd burned him. Like your very existence was offensive to him, somehow. He manages to spin you around as he let go of your waist, disorient you as you sputtered, glancing after him.

The stairs were littered with groceries - blocks of cream cheese, butter, cookies for the crust - fresh fruit for the filling. A bag of sugar had exploded, its contents dusting the next landing like snow. All of this - ingredients you'd bought, with money you'd worked your ass off to afford - and the man you'd been trying to impress stepped in that puddle of sugar, granules crackling under his boot.

You damn near saw red.

"Logan!" you snapped, your voice harsh, crisp as it echoed through the stairwell. Fuck. You hated using that voice - but it made him freeze on the spot.

He turned to look at you - eyes wide, as if he was some child who'd been caught in a lie. But also - that gaze was knowing, somehow. Like he knew what you used that voice for. What it meant for him.

You sighed, tried to regain your composure. It was fine. You were fine. When you opened your eyes, you addressed him with even, annunciated words:

"Why do you hate me?"

Even as you tried your best to dull your voice of emotion, it slipped through. A waved of your throat, the hint of water in your eyes. You hated it - this man didn't hold that power over you. You just - you were used to being liked. That's all.

Logan looked at you like you'd shot him.

"What?" he asked, just as breathless as you felt. You thought you detected just a hint of hurt in that syllable.

"It-it's just-" you tried not to let yourself waver, but you stuttered as you spoke. "I've been trying to just - to be your friend, to be a good neighbor. Like I am to Wade, like we - we hang out, sometimes. But you- you're just - I feel like you've been kind of rude to me."

You sounded like a child.

Logan took a breath. A deep one, as if this were a confrontation that had been a long time coming (which it was) and that he was prepared to have a conversation he'd dreaded (which was really what got you - if he really just disliked you, why would he care enough to prepare something? What was going on?)

He turned around - gathered up all your dropped groceries - and started walking up the stairs, passing you and continuing his way to your shared floor. He'd previously been on his way out, so you didn't do much except stare at him until he was nearly half a flight ahead of you and your brain finally switched on again.

He led you to the apartment he shared with Wade, nodded as he held the door open for you. It felt strange - you hadn't been inside the apartment since the party. You'd always felt too nervous to ask Wade if he wanted to continue your usual game nights. Too intimidated by Logan.

He set the groceries on the counter, and practically sank into the couch. You perched on the chair opposite it, still not quite believing that he had let you in. That you were going to talk. He breathed in deeply, steadying himself before he spoke, eyes still glued to the floor.

"I'm not from here. 'M sure Wade told you that much," he glanced up, only to nod in your direction. You nodded back.

"My world - timeline, whatever the fuck - I killed it. Everyone I loved, everyone I cared about - they all died. Because of me."

You sat in rapt attention as his shoulders tensed, his jaw flexed. This was a lot, for him. You didn't really understand why he was telling you about it, but it was important to him. So you listened.

"Every timeline is different. At least, that's what the science says. Ones that are closer together - might have the same people show up at around the same time. Might be - people I knew. People I - cared about."

Logan glanced up, again. Caught your eyes with his and swallowed harshly.

"You're - one of them. One of the people I lost."

"Oh," you breathed, because now it all made sense. The strange looks, the curt conversations - even the thousand yard stare. You were triggering his memories of a horrible time of his life with every step you took in his direction. And you didn't even know it.

"I'm so sorry," You whispered, trying your best to quell any tears that might form sympathetically. No wonder he kept pushing you away. You were a walking PTSD trigger.

"No-" he gasped, shaking his head as he stood up, like he'd been shocked upright. "No, it's not -"

He cleared his throat, shook his head like he was trying to find the right words.

"I know I was pushing you away. And it is - hard, to see you again. But - I want to see you. I want to get to know you, again," if you didn't know any better, you'd think that there were tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

"You made the pie, you know. The pumpkin pie. I was only there for the one Thanksgiving, but I remember it. You swore you'd cooked off all the liquor, but Xavier made you promise only the adults would get a slice."

He grinned at you, then - wide, real. It was pretty, that smile. You could imagine recognizing it, in another life.

"None of the kids got any. Too good for them, anyway," he took a step towards you, and you rose from your seat, legs only a little wobbly.

"That's good," you breathed, voice as shaky as your knees. "I use vodka in the crust, too."

"I know," Logan grinned, a hand grasping yours, his smile somehow wider than before.

You wondered, as you strode forward into a crushing hug against his chest, if it felt so right in every universe.

#asks #anon #anonymous #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #also b4 someone tries to pin reader as a specific mutant bc of the line about their voice #reader is using a teacher/professor voice. that's it that's the reference #mine

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