#and logan is like “nah you just dramatic”

[let-roman-bite-someone]

something about the way logan describes virgil's angsty laments as "colorfully phrased" is so funny to me

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ first time - teach me how to love

chapter summary: After he dropped hints for weeks, you finally give in to Logan.

word count: 11k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bonus chapter! i consider this taking place before make you mine

this is the request that inspired this chapter

(you do NOT have to read the series to understand this oneshot. it's mostly smut)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of twirling hair, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, not proofread

series masterlist

You turned the page of your book, the hum of some old movie playing on the TV in the bedroom. You were lying between Logan’s legs, your head resting below his chin while his hand absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair. His other hand was draped over your stomach, fingers occasionally tapping against the fabric of your shirt like he had a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

“You actually readin’ that thing, or just pretendin’ to so I don’t distract you?” Logan’s voice was low, lazy, the kind of tone he only used when he was completely comfortable.

You didn’t look up from your book. “I was reading.”

“Was,” he echoed, amused. His fingers gave your hair a light tug before smoothing it down again. “So that means I am distractin’ you.”

You sighed, more dramatic than necessary, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “Logan.”

“Darlin’.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you get all smug just ‘cause I like being around you.”

Logan smirked, his fingers trailing absently along your side now. “That a bad thing?”

You sighed again, but this time, you leaned into him a little more, letting your book rest against your chest. “No.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your back. “Didn’t think so.”

The movie flickered in the background, some old Western that Logan had flipped to out of habit. You doubted he was actually paying attention to it. His fingers skimmed over the hem of your shirt now, his touch slow, deliberate. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t even making a real move—just there, lingering, testing.

“Y’know,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along the sliver of skin just above your waistband, “I don’t mind you usin’ me as a pillow, but I gotta say, sweetheart… there are other ways to get comfortable.”

You didn’t take the bait, though your cheeks warmed at his tone. “I am comfortable.”

Logan let out a quiet hum, his fingers tracing the same path over your stomach. “Could be more comfortable.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly in his hold. “Logan.”

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the side of your neck. “Just sayin’.”

You exhaled, turning the page of your book even though you hadn’t actually processed a single word. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” he murmured against your skin. “Just persistent.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him rattle you—at least, not too much. He wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past couple of weeks, Logan had been dropping hints, pushing just enough to see how you’d react. It wasn’t anything overt—no pressure, no expectation. Just a lingering touch here, a teasing remark there, the occasional kiss that lasted a second longer than it needed to.

He was patient, but he wasn’t subtle.

“You’re thinkin’ real hard about somethin’,” Logan murmured, his breath warm against your jaw.

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes trained on your book. “Just… taking in the plot.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. His hand slid just a little higher, resting against your ribs now. “That book’s been on the same page for the last ten minutes.”

You sighed. “Maybe I just like this page.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your temple. “Yeah? What’s it about?”

You hesitated, then groaned, dropping the book onto your lap. “Fine. Maybe I haven’t been paying attention.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “That so?”

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You love being a distraction, don’t you?”

Logan shrugged, unbothered. “If it gets you lookin’ at me instead of that book? Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back with something witty, Logan’s hand slipped beneath your sweater, resting warm and steady against your skin. The touch wasn’t rushed or demanding—just there, grounding, like he was waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

Logan took that as an invitation to tilt your chin up, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. He wasn’t pushing for more, but he wasn’t holding back, either. His fingers splayed against your stomach, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin.

By the time he pulled back, his smirk had softened into something quieter, something more certain. “See? Much better than readin’.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

Logan grinned. “Yeah, but you’re still sittin’ here, ain’tcha?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came to mind. Because he was right.

And, more than that, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

---

The sound of chalk against the board was somewhat soothing—it usually meant just you and equations. But it wasn’t as soothing today since Logan was leaning against your desk watching you as you wrote across the board preparing for class.

He’d been there for the past ten minutes, saying nothing, just watching, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk lingering on his face. You’d done your best to ignore him, focusing on writing out the equation, but every time you glanced over, he was still there. Still watching.

Finally, you sighed, setting the chalk down with a small clink. “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you actually here for something?”

Logan’s smirk deepened. “Dunno. Kinda enjoyin’ the view.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face warmed at the way his voice dipped just slightly, lazy and deliberate. You turned back to the board, trying to ignore the way his presence was making it difficult to focus. “Well, unless you suddenly got real interested in quantum mechanics, you’re gonna get bored pretty quick.”

“Nah,” he said, the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor as he shifted. “You’re way more interestin’ than whatever the hell’s on that board.”

You hesitated just briefly before picking the chalk back up, your grip tightening slightly. “Logan.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone perfectly, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to glare at him, but it was a mistake—because the second you looked at him, you were trapped. His eyes weren’t just amused; they were sharp, knowing, like he could see right through you. And he could, you realized with an exasperated huff.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, looking back at the board.

“Yeah?” Logan pushed off your desk, moving closer until he was standing right behind you. “Guess that makes us even, darlin’.”

Your breath hitched as his voice dropped, the warmth of him settling against your back even though he wasn’t touching you. It would be so easy for him to close the distance, to brush his hand against your waist, to tease you just a little further. But he didn’t. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch, making sure you felt him there.

Your grip on the chalk faltered, a small break appearing in the line of your equation.

Logan chuckled. “You sure you ain’t gettin’ distracted, sweetheart?”

You turned sharply, ready to snap at him, but the second you did, his hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray piece of chalk dust off your cheek. The touch was barely there, but it was enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let it drop.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

You swallowed, blinking up at him. His smirk had softened, something quieter settling in the way he looked at you. That look always got you—it was dangerous. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. And maybe, in some ways, you were.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him to grab your notes.

Logan didn’t stop you, but as you moved, he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Hey.”

You hesitated, looking up at him again.

“Dinner later?” His thumb brushed against your wrist, barely there.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t cocky—it was satisfied. “Good.”

And then he leaned down, his fingers holding your chin gently as he kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.

His lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, and you felt the familiar warmth pool low in your stomach. Logan wasn’t in a rush—he never was when he kissed you. He liked to take his time, to savor, to leave you breathless in a way that made your head spin long after he pulled away. His fingers curled under your chin, keeping you close, his thumb tracing a slow line along your jaw.

His tongue flicked over your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate swipe before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His smirk was lazy, self-satisfied, and entirely too smug.

“Cherry,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.

“You’re obsessed,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed even as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, his hands slipping lower, resting heavy on your hips. “Ain’t my fault you keep wearin’ it.” His thumbs brushed against your sides, slow, absent-minded. “Like you want me to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s just lip gloss, Logan.”

“Sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Just lip gloss.” His grip on your hips tightened just a fraction. “You always wear this flavor, or is it just ‘round me?”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but the way he was looking at you made your brain short-circuit. His expression wasn’t just teasing anymore—there was something deeper behind his eyes, something unreadable but intense. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in again, not quite kissing you, just letting his lips hover near yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “Tell me it ain’t for me.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You weren’t sure what was more frustrating—the way he always managed to fluster you so easily, or the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I—” You hesitated, and Logan caught it immediately. His smirk widened, and you wanted to wipe it off his face, but your brain was too fogged up with the scent of him, the way his hands were resting so firmly on your hips, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

“Thought so,” he muttered, finally pressing his lips to yours again.

This kiss was slower, more deliberate, his mouth moving against yours like he had all the time in the world. His fingers curled slightly, gripping the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you in closer. You felt the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way he tilted his head just right, deepening it just enough to make you forget that you were still standing in the middle of your classroom.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, gripping onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Logan, of course, looked perfectly fine, his smirk still in place, though his breathing was a little heavier than before.

“Now, what were you sayin’ about this bein’ ‘just lip gloss’?”

You groaned, shoving lightly at his chest. “Logan.”

He caught your wrist before you could push him away completely, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of it before finally letting you go. “Alright, alright,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll stop—” He paused, then added, “—for now.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching you with that same damn amused expression, like he was enjoying every second of this. And the worst part? He absolutely was.

You turned away quickly, trying to regain your composure, but you could still feel the heat of his hands on your skin, the ghost of his lips on yours.

“You still good for dinner later?” he asked, casually like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes making you forget how to think.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your glasses as you grabbed your notes. “Yeah,” you muttered. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” His voice was warm, satisfied. “See you then, sweetheart.”

And with that, he strolled out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, lips tingling, heart racing, and entirely too aware of the fact that you were already counting down the hours until you saw him again.

---

The mansion was abnormally quiet. Most of the students were out for the weekend—some of the older students were looking after the younger ones—and the team was out doing a simple recon mission.

“One and a half cups of flour,” you muttered, leveling off the measuring cup before dumping it into the mixing bowl. The kitchen was unusually quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clink of your spoon against the bowl as you stirred.

“You talk to yourself when you bake?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway, rough with amusement.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher up your nose. “It helps me focus,” you said, reaching for the sugar. “And keeps me from messing up the measurements.”

Logan stepped inside, hands tucked into his jeans as he leaned against the counter, watching you. “Didn’t think you ever messed up.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Everyone messes up.”

“Not you,” he said, smirking. “Not when it comes to stuff like this.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck as you added sugar to the bowl. “Flattery isn’t going to get you cookies any faster.”

Logan just grinned. “Worth a shot.”

He stayed where he was, not offering to help, not interfering, just watching. He always did this—hovering without making it obvious, keeping you in his line of sight like it was second nature. You’d gotten used to it over the past few months, the way he lingered when you were focused on something, content just being there.

His presence was steady, familiar, something you had unconsciously grown comfortable with.

You reached for the blueberries, tossing a handful into the batter before mixing again. “You’re staring.”

Logan shrugged, smirk never fading. “You’re nice to look at.”

Your grip tightened on the spoon. “Logan.”

“What?” He tilted his head, completely unbothered. “I’m just statin’ facts, sweetheart. ‘Specially when you’re wearin’ this.” Logan tugged on the open placket of his flannel, the fabric loose over your frame.

You huffed, turning back to the mixing bowl. “It was just sitting on the chair. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Logan’s fingers skimmed the hem, playing with the edge. “Didn’t say I minded.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Just sayin’ it looks real good on you.”

Your hands faltered slightly as you stirred the batter, but you kept your focus on the task at hand. “You’re just trying to distract me so I mess up these cookies.”

“Me?” He smirked, shifting closer, one hip against the counter now. “I’d never do such a thing.”

You shot him a pointed look. “You do it all the time.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, reaching over to steal a blueberry from the container beside you. “Alright, maybe I do. But it ain’t my fault you’re easy to rile up.”

You swatted at his hand before he could grab another berry. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah?” He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing slowly. “And yet, here you are, wearin’ my shirt, makin’ me cookies.”

“I’m not making you cookies,” you said, stirring the batter. “These are the blueberries from Ororo’s garden. She wanted me to make cookies with them.”

Logan made a low sound in the back of his throat, arms still folded as he leaned against the counter. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You scooped another handful of blueberries into the bowl, mixing them in. “So, if you want cookies, you’ll have to take it up with her.”

He smirked. “Think she’d let me have one?”

“Maybe.” You flicked your gaze toward him, pretending to consider it. “If you ask nicely.”

Logan snorted, pushing off the counter to move closer. “You ever known me to ask nicely for anything?”

You gave him a look, reaching for the baking sheet. “Exactly.”

His smirk widened. “So that means I gotta find another way to get one.”

“You could just wait like everyone else,” you pointed out, dropping spoonfuls of batter onto the tray.

“Could.” Logan took another step forward, his fingers brushing against the hem of the flannel you were still wearing. “Or I could keep distractin’ you till you cave.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart picked up just from him being this close. “You’re not as persuasive as you think.”

He hummed, standing directly behind you now, his chest barely a breath away from your back. “That so?”

You swallowed, focusing intently on the cookies. “Yes.”

Logan leaned in just a little, his breath warm against your ear. “Don’t seem so sure, sweetheart.”

Your hands froze for half a second before you forced yourself to keep scooping batter. “I don’t give in that easily.”

“Mm.” His hands skimmed along the counter on either side of you, not touching, just there. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

You exhaled, willing yourself to focus. “The cookies go in the oven in five minutes. Think you can survive that long?”

Logan chuckled, low and deep. “Guess we’ll see.”

His hands finally lifted from the counter, and he stepped back, giving you space again—but not before trailing a slow fingertip down your arm on the way. It was barely anything, just a whisper of a touch, but it left a warm, lingering imprint on your skin.

You shook your head, ignoring the way your cheeks felt hot. “You’re the worst.”

He smirked. “You keep sayin’ that, and yet—” He tugged lightly on the sleeve of the flannel you were still wearing. “Still wearin’ my shirt. Still makin’ cookies.”

You sighed, finally turning to face him fully. “They’re Ororo’s cookies.”

Logan crossed his arms, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You really think everything I do is for you, don’t you?”

He grinned. “No. But I like knowin’ when it is.”

You groaned, turning back to the tray before he could see how much that stupid smirk was affecting you. “You are impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching as you slid the tray into the oven. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Logan, you can have a cookie when they’re done.’”

You shut the oven and sighed. “Fine. One.”

His smirk deepened. “Thought you didn’t give in that easily?”

You turned, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re pushing it.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, his fingers warm as they curled lightly around yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just held your hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckles in slow, easy circles.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The playful air between you had shifted, just slightly, into something quieter, something that made your heart beat a little harder.

“Y’know,” Logan murmured, his voice lower now, “I don’t just stick around for the cookies.”

You swallowed, your fingers twitching against his. “I know.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, then, with a small smirk, lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. The warmth of it sent a shiver up your spine.

Your breath wavered, and Logan didn’t miss it. His smirk softened, his eyes flicking up to yours. “I’ll be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

Your stomach flipped, but before you could even think of a response, he turned and strolled toward the door. “I’ll be back when the cookies are done.”

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your hand still tingling from where his lips had been.

You took a slow, steadying breath, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

You were in trouble.

---

The night was like any other night. The TV was playing in the room, another old movie Logan had put on, while you read a book—1st to Die by James Patterson.

Your head was resting against his shoulder, while one of his hands absentmindedly stroked your thigh. His touch was steady, casual, like it had been for months now, but you could feel something else beneath it tonight. A quiet kind of intent.

Logan wasn’t subtle. Not really. He liked to pretend he was, but you had known him long enough to pick up on his patterns. The way his fingers traced absent shapes against your skin, his thumb brushing along the inside of your knee before trailing back down. Slow. Measured. Like he was waiting for you to notice.

You turned the page in your book, trying to ignore the way your heart had started to beat just a little faster.

“Y’like that one?” Logan’s voice was quiet, rough in the way it always was. His thumb dragged up again, stopping just beneath the hem of your shorts.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s good.”

Logan hummed, shifting slightly so he could glance down at you. “Ain’t my usual, but I might give it a shot.”

Your lips twitched. “You barely read anything that isn’t a newspaper.”

Logan smirked. “Fair.” His fingers brushed higher this time, not quite pushing but not retreating either. “But if you like it, I figure it’s worth a look.”

You swallowed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but they were blurring now, replaced by the warmth of his palm against your thigh, the way his hand lingered, waiting.

After a long moment, you set the book down on your lap and turned slightly, looking up at him. Logan watched you, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze.

His other hand lifted, fingers ghosting along your jaw before his thumb traced over your bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Your breath caught. He didn’t move closer, didn’t push. He just waited.

It had always been this way with him. The teasing, the lingering touches, the quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter. He never rushed. He was never impatient with you.

But he wanted you to be the one to move first.

You hesitated only for a moment before tilting your chin up, closing the space between you.

The second your lips met his, Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening on your thigh. He kissed you slow at first, steady, like he had all the time in the world. But when he started to pull back, you chased him, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to keep him close.

That was all it took.

Logan made a quiet sound in the back of his throat before he kissed you deeper, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he shifted, guiding you gently until you were beneath him, your back pressed against the mattress.

He hovered there for a moment, his weight braced on his forearms as he studied you, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You sure?” Logan’s voice was quieter now, rougher.

You nodded, your fingers sliding up into his hair. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression before he dipped his head again, kissing you softer this time.

He grabbed your book and placed it on the bedside table without looking, without even breaking the kiss. His lips were slow, deliberate, savoring the way you yielded beneath him, the way your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His hand slid lower, over the soft fabric of his flannel that still draped over your frame, fingertips tracing the hem where it met your thigh. He pulled back just enough to look at you, smirking at the dazed look in your eyes. “Y’know,” he murmured, his fingers slipping under the fabric, brushing against your bare skin, “I like seein’ you in my clothes.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Yeah?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk deepening as his fingers trailed higher. “Think I might’ve understated it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined when he leaned in again, his mouth brushing along your jaw, then lower, dragging slow kisses down the column of your throat. His hands moved with him, one slipping around to the small of your back, the other pushing the flannel further up your thighs.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging lightly. Logan hummed against your skin, then leaned back just enough to grab the collar of his tee, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of him—bare-chested, golden skin catching the low light—made your breath hitch.

Logan chuckled, catching the way your gaze drifted over him. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

You huffed, feigning exasperation, but your fingers betrayed you as they splayed over his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle. “You’re cocky.”

His smirk widened. “Damn right.” He ducked down again, capturing your lips in another slow kiss, his body settling closer against yours. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, his weight grounding you as his hands continued their exploration, one drifting beneath the fabric of your—his—flannel, the other cupping the back of your neck.

His lips left yours only to find the sensitive skin beneath your ear, teeth scraping lightly before he soothed it with his tongue. “M’gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, his voice rough, his fingers skimming beneath the hem of your sleep shorts. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched at that, and despite the heat pooling in your stomach, you still managed to murmur, “so cocky.”

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, nipping at your jaw before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That a complaint?”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then shook your head. “No.”

His smirk softened slightly, something warmer flickering in his eyes. He kissed you again, slower this time, more measured, before his hands resumed their path downward. The flannel slid off your shoulders, and Logan eased it down your arms, letting it pool around you before shifting his focus to your shorts.

His fingers traced the waistband, giving you the opportunity to stop him, to hesitate—but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your hips just enough for him to slip them down, the fabric dragging along your legs before being tossed aside.

His hands traced back up, following the path they’d just taken, but this time there was nothing between you. His palms splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to make you squirm before they trailed inward, brushing against the heat of you.

Logan exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he kissed you again, deeper this time. One hand stayed anchored against your hip while the other moved between your thighs, fingers teasing, exploring, until they found the slick warmth waiting for him.

His lips curved against yours. “So fuckin’ soft,” he murmured, tracing slow circles that made you gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “And already so wet for me.”

Your breath stuttered, nails digging into his skin as his fingers worked you open, slow and careful, coaxing soft sounds from your lips that only made his own breath turn heavier.

“You always this sweet for me, darlin’?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “Or is this just ‘cause you’ve been waitin’ on me?”

Logan’s fingers curled just right inside you, pressing against that spot that made your breath stutter, your thighs twitching where they pressed against his hips. His smirk was small but unmistakable, lips brushing against your cheek as his fingers worked you open, slow and deliberate.

“You’re real sensitive, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something darker, something restrained. His thumb dragged lazy circles over your clit, and you whimpered, your grip on his shoulders tightening. He chuckled, breath warm against your skin. “Damn shame I didn’t do this sooner.”

You couldn’t answer—not with the way he was touching you, not with the heat pooling in your stomach, threatening to snap. Your head tipped back against the pillows, glasses askew, lips parted around soft, breathy sounds that you couldn’t hold back. Logan didn’t stop them. If anything, he worked for them, coaxing every little gasp from your lips like he had all the time in the world.

“That’s it,” he muttered, pressing slow kisses down your jaw, along the line of your throat. His fingers pumped into you steadily, stretching, teasing, dragging that pleasure higher. “Y’been waitin’ on this, haven’t you?”

“Logan—”

His thumb pressed a little firmer against your clit, and your words broke into a moan, your back arching into him. Logan groaned, deep and low, his mouth finding the hollow of your throat as he kept his rhythm.

“Christ, you sound good,” he muttered. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, sharp and electric, curling tight in your stomach. Logan felt it too—the way your thighs trembled, the way your breath hitched between each desperate sound.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, fingers relentless. “Let me feel it.”

And you did—your body tensed, your breath breaking into a soft, gasping cry as you came apart beneath him. Logan cursed softly, watching you unravel, his fingers slowing just enough to help you ride it out.

You were still trembling when he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips. He met your gaze as he licked them clean, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You taste good.”

Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks, but Logan was already shifting, already pressing slow, deep kisses against your lips. He took his time, letting you catch your breath, hands steady as they stroked over your hips, your thighs, your waist.

“Still doin’ alright?” he murmured.

You nodded, breathless, fingers curling against his chest. “Yeah.”

Logan smirked, but there was something softer in it, something warmer. “Good.”

His hand skimmed down your side, slow and deliberate, rough fingertips brushing over the curve of your hip. He was watching you too closely, the way he always did when he wanted to be sure you were with him, when he needed to see it in your eyes.

You curled your fingers into his hair and pulled him back down to you, mouth meeting his in a kiss that was less careful this time. You weren’t thinking about shyness, about hesitation—just the heat of his skin, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch.

Logan groaned low against your lips, his body settling fully against yours now, bare skin to bare skin, except for the one piece of clothing left between you. His jeans were rough where they brushed against your thighs, the contrast making you shiver as his hands moved—one sliding beneath you to brace your back, the other gripping your hip, his fingers flexing like he was grounding himself in the feel of you.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or if you’d slip through his fingers again.

You felt it in the way he touched you, in the way he lingered, his lips dragging from your mouth down to your jaw, the column of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale rougher than the last.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Logan murmured against your pulse, his voice low, rasping.

You swallowed hard, nodding before remembering he’d want more than that. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers tightened against your hip like he was restraining himself, like he had to be careful, because this was you, and even though he’d wanted this for so fucking long, he wouldn’t rush it.

Wouldn’t rush you.

His nose brushed against your cheek as he exhaled, long and slow, before kissing you again—slower this time, deliberate.

His hands started moving again, dragging over the softness of your waist, down to your thighs, his touch firm but steady, mapping you out, savoring. When he reached the inside of your knee, he eased it up, guiding your leg around his waist. The shift pressed you flush against him, and Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, his forehead resting against yours for a moment like he needed to gather himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed against you, one sliding down to your ass, gripping, shifting you just enough that the hard press of him against your core made you whimper.

Logan groaned at the sound, his head dipping, lips grazing your collarbone. “You don’t even know what that does to me,” he murmured, his mouth trailing lower.

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against his shoulders. “I might have an idea.”

That pulled a rough chuckle from him, but it faded when you moved—when you shifted against him, pressing just enough to draw a hiss from his lips.

His restraint was slipping.

He was already worked up, and you could feel it, the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his breathing had gone ragged. He’d been patient, slow, but the way he was gripping you now, the way his hands were starting to tremble against your skin—he was close to losing that patience.

And you wanted him to.

You reached between you, fingers brushing along his stomach, the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s breath hitched, his hips twitching forward before he caught himself, gripping your wrist before you could go further.

“Darlin’.” His voice was tight, strained. “You don’t gotta—”

“I know,” you murmured, looking up at him. Your free hand brushed against his jaw, grounding him. “I want to.”

Logan’s grip on your wrist loosened at that, his lips parting, something flickering behind his eyes that looked a hell of a lot like reverence.

Then he let go.

You made quick work of his belt, the button, the zipper—your hands were steady, but your heart was racing. Logan watched you, his breath shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as you shoved the last barrier down over his hips.

His skin was hot against yours, his body solid, strong, and when he settled against you again, when there was nothing between you anymore, you let out a sharp, shaking breath at the feeling of him, the sheer heat and weight of him pressing against you.

Logan groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Christ.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. “Logan—”

“I got you,” he murmured. His voice was softer now, and the hand on your hip slid lower. You made a soft, pleading sound, shifting beneath him, your fingers flexing against his skin. Logan exhaled sharply, his hand leaving you to brace himself above you again. His eyes met yours. “You sure?”

You nodded, but Logan didn’t move. He needed to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice quiet but sure. “I’m sure.”

Something in his expression eased, and then—

He pushed in, slow, steady, careful.

Your breath caught. Logan groaned, low and rough, his head tipping forward, his body shuddering as he fought to keep himself controlled.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice thick, strained. His hands flexed against you, his breath ragged against your skin as he pushed in deeper, filling you completely.

You gasped, gripping his arms, your body stretching to take him, adjusting around him. Logan cursed softly, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his hands shaking against you.

“Tell me if—” His voice was almost wrecked. “If I need to slow down, I will.”

You shook your head, breathless. “You’re perfect.”

Logan let out a quiet, shuddering exhale. “Fuck.”

His hips pulled back, then pressed forward again, slow, measured. His restraint was there, barely, his muscles taut beneath your hands, his movements careful but not hesitant.

You moaned softly, your body arching into him, and Logan swore under his breath, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “You feel like you were made for me.”

You trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat, the weight, the way he filled every part of you so completely. Logan was holding himself together by a thread, his hands flexing against your hips like he was steadying himself, grounding himself in the feel of you. His breath was heavy against your skin, rough and uneven, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled inside you, letting you adjust.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Fuck.”

Your fingers curled against the broad planes of his back, nails digging into firm muscle as you took a shaky breath. He was big—not just in size, but in presence, in weight, in the sheer way he surrounded you, body and soul. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt this full before. It was almost too much. Almost.

But Logan wasn’t rushing.

He didn’t move, didn’t push. He just stayed there, his body taut with restraint, his jaw tight. His thumb traced absentminded circles on your hip, a small, grounding motion against the intensity of everything else.

“You okay?” His voice was rough, thick with the effort of holding himself back.

You swallowed, nodding, but when you saw the way he was watching you—his eyes dark, searching—you knew that wasn’t enough. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s throat bobbed as he exhaled slowly, like he needed to hear it, needed the confirmation.

Still, he didn’t move right away. He stayed just like that, warm and solid above you, one hand slipping up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

It was gentler than you’d expected. You weren’t sure why—you knew Logan was careful with you, always. He was rough around the edges, sure, but with you, he never let himself be careless. Even now, even with his body wound tight as a wire, he held himself back, waiting for you to let him know it was okay.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. Logan groaned low in his throat, the hand on your hip tightening fractionally, but he didn’t deepen it—he let you set the pace.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth. “You can move.”

Logan’s whole body tensed at that, his breath hitching. “Fuck,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours again like he was collecting himself. Then, after a long moment—

He pulled back, just a little, before pushing forward again, slow and steady.

The stretch had you gasping, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. Logan gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as he did it again, his pace careful, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you.

“You’re so goddamn tight,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. His lips brushed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Heat curled in your stomach at the way he said it—like he couldn’t believe this was real, like he couldn’t believe he had you beneath him, wrapped around him like this.

Your thighs squeezed around his waist instinctively, and Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter.

“Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You keep doin’ that, I ain’t gonna last.”

You swallowed hard, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Logan let out a rough chuckle, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “Ain’t complainin’.”

He thrust again, just a little harder this time, and you let out a soft, broken sound, your back arching. Logan groaned, his teeth scraping along your jaw before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, drugging rhythm that matched the roll of his hips.

Your hands slid up his back, over the warm expanse of skin, tracing the dips and ridges of old scars. Logan shuddered beneath your touch, his muscles flexing under your fingers.

His mouth left yours only to drag lower, down the line of your throat, over the curve of your shoulder. “Goddamn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with want. “I’ve wanted this—” He cut himself off with a groan, his fingers flexing against your waist. “You don’t even know how long.”

You whimpered softly, tightening your legs around him. “Then don’t hold back.”

Logan’s head snapped up at that, his breath catching. His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and wanting flashing behind them.

For a second, you thought he might tease you, draw it out longer—but something in your voice must have struck him, because Logan let out a rough breath and gave you exactly what you asked for.

He started moving in earnest now, his rhythm still measured but deeper, more insistent, dragging pleasure from you with every roll of his hips. Your breath hitched, your nails pressing into his shoulders as heat coiled in your stomach, sharp and electric.

You gasped as he thrust again, your body tightening around him. “Logan—”

He groaned at the way you said his name, his fingers digging into your hips. His pace faltered for a second, like he was struggling to keep himself controlled, like he was on the edge of losing himself completely.

And maybe you wanted him to.

Your hands slid up to cup his face, guiding him back down into another kiss, one that was messier now, more desperate. Logan growled against your lips, his movements turning just a little rougher, just a little faster, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching up to meet him.

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, tightening, making your breath come faster. Logan felt it too—the way your body trembled, the way your breath caught.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips rolling into yours just right. “Let me feel you.”

The coil snapped.

You cried out, your body shuddering as you came around him, the pleasure cresting over you in sharp, dizzying waves. Logan cursed, his hands gripping you tight as he followed, his rhythm stuttering before he buried himself deep, groaning low against your throat as he let go.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, the quiet hum of the TV still playing in the background. Logan stayed there, his forehead against yours, his hands still steady on your hips, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Then, slowly, he shifted, pulling you into his chest as he rolled onto his side, keeping you close, keeping you warm. His breath was still heavy, but his hands were gentle as they traced over your back, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

“You alright?” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges.

You nodded against his chest, your fingers curling into his skin. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression. “You stayin’ here tonight?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I think that’s a given.”

Logan smirked against your hair. “Good.”

---

Bonus Scene

He couldn’t help himself—you looked cute today. To others, it was just a regular outfit, slacks and a sweater, but the difference was those damn heels.

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as you walked down the hall, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. The soft click of your heels against the floor was downright distracting, and the way they made you stand just a little taller—closer to him—wasn’t helping, either.

You adjusted your glasses, scanning over the notes in your hand as you made your way toward the classroom. Logan smirked to himself, shaking his head. Of course, you were completely oblivious.

He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you. “Fancy shoes, sweetheart.”

You glanced up at him, brow furrowing slightly before realization dawned. “Oh. Yeah.” You adjusted your grip on the papers, glancing down at them. “I don’t wear them often, but I figured I should—”

“Keep ‘em.” Logan cut you off before you could finish whatever practical reason you were about to give.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smirk deepened, eyes dropping briefly to your heels before dragging back up. “I like ‘em.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but instead, you quickly looked back at your papers, clearing your throat. “They’re just shoes, Logan.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan’s voice was amused, his smirk never fading.

He could see it—the way you fidgeted slightly, the way your grip tightened just a little on the papers. You were flustered, and it was adorable.

You reached your classroom, your free hand on the doorknob, but before you could step inside, Logan’s hand landed on your hip, pulling you back just enough that you felt the warmth of him behind you. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“They make your legs look real nice, too,” he murmured.

You inhaled sharply, your back straightening. “Logan—”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You turned your head just slightly, your cheek barely grazing his. You opened your mouth to say something—probably a scolding, judging by the look in your eyes—but Logan just grinned, giving your hip a final squeeze before stepping back.

“See you later, darlin’.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving you standing there, flustered and gripping the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Yeah. He was definitely keeping those heels around.

---

You didn’t wear them again for a while—you usually would only consider wearing them on days when you didn’t have to be in the lab.

So, a few weeks later they were on again. The day went on normally, no interruptions from Logan, at least not any more than usual, and by the end of the workday you were glad to finally take them off.

You had already taken off your cardigan, leaving you in a simple t-shirt, and now you were unstrapping your heels.

The second heel slid off your foot with a relieved sigh. You flexed your toes against the carpet, rolling your ankles slightly. You hadn't even heard Logan come in—not until his voice rumbled from the doorway.

“Lemme help, sweetheart.”

Your head snapped up, caught halfway through massaging the arch of your foot. Logan was already moving toward you, dark eyes locked onto yours with that unreadable expression, something steady and sure. The kind that made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to—”

He crouched down in front of you before you could finish, already reaching for your legs. Large hands wrapped around your calves, rough fingers kneading into muscle as he lifted one foot, pressing his thumb into the soft ache just beneath your toes.

A quiet breath left you, head tipping slightly back at the relief of it. He chuckled, low and knowing.

“Yeah, figured they’d be sore. Been watchin’ you walk around in ‘em all day.” His fingers trailed down, slow and deliberate, past your ankle and along your shin, stopping just above your knee. He looked up then, and something about the way he did it—half-lidded, knowing—made heat bloom low in your stomach.

His hands didn’t move away. Not when he squeezed gently, dragging his palms down the length of your legs again, not even when his fingers hooked into the waistband of your slacks.

Your breath caught. “Logan…”

He hummed, a wordless sound of acknowledgment, but he didn’t stop. He unbuttoned them slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Just helpin’ you get comfortable, darlin’.”

You should’ve expected it—Logan wasn’t the type to stop at just your shoes. But still, the sensation of your slacks being eased down, the brush of cool air against your thighs as he worked them off, sent a shiver up your spine.

And then, just as you were about to stand, assuming this was about changing into something else, Logan’s hands were on your hips, pushing you back down.

Your brows furrowed. “I thought—”

But Logan was already reaching for the heels again. He slid them back onto your feet, slow, deliberate. His fingers lingered as he adjusted the straps, the rough scrape of his calloused skin against your ankle making your pulse stutter.

Your lips parted, about to ask what he was doing—but before you could, he pressed a firm hand to your thigh, spreading you open just enough, and then he was moving lower, kneeling between your legs.

The realization hit all at once.

“Logan—”

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you just that much closer to the edge of the bed. He exhaled sharply, and you could feel it—hot, teasing, right against the thin cotton of your underwear. His nose brushed against the fabric, and the sound that left him was almost a growl.

“Been thinkin’ about this all damn day,” he muttered. One of his hands slid up, fingers pressing into the meat of your hip, while the other smoothed down to hook around the back of your knee.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets. “You—” Your voice hitched when his mouth brushed against you again, this time with intent. “You could’ve just said so.”

He chuckled against you, lips dragging over the fabric, teasing. “Nah,” he murmured. “Better like this.”

His tongue traced along the dampening fabric, slow and unhurried, dragging just enough to make you squirm. The first real sound of pleasure slipped from your lips before you could swallow it down. He made a noise of approval, pressing his mouth more firmly against you.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, breath coming faster. “Logan…”

Logan’s breath was hot against you, teasing, his mouth hovering right where you needed him but refusing to give in just yet. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, thumbs pressing circles into your skin, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers curled tighter into the sheets, your breath coming in uneven, shallow little bursts. "Logan—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His voice was deep, roughened by amusement, like he already knew what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

Your nails dug into the fabric beneath you, and Logan chuckled—low, pleased. He pressed a kiss over your underwear, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger before dragging his tongue over the fabric. The heat of his mouth seared through, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

He groaned, hands flexing against your thighs. "Knew you'd be sensitive."

A flush burned hot up your neck, your head tipping back as his fingers traced slow, teasing lines up and down your legs, just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to satisfy. He slid his hands up, past your knees, before hooking his arms beneath your thighs, pulling them up, over his shoulders.

Your breath caught as your calves rested against his broad back, the heels he had insisted you keep on grazing against his muscles. His grip tightened, locking you into place, and something about the sheer strength of him—the way he held you like this, open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy—made your stomach clench.

He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your thigh, then another, working his way back toward the soaked fabric between your legs. His tongue flicked out again, just enough pressure to make you squirm, before he pulled back with a smirk.

"Logan," you breathed, frustration seeping into your tone.

His eyes flicked up, dark and hungry. "What, darlin'?"

"You—" Your fingers curled into the sheets again, your voice catching as he flattened his tongue against you, pressing hard enough that you felt every inch of him through the fabric. Your back arched instinctively, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips.

That noise seemed to snap something in him.

Logan growled, deep and guttural, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. In one slow, deliberate motion, he dragged them down, letting them catch around your knees before finally tugging them free. His hands didn’t waste any time, gripping the backs of your thighs again, pulling you even closer.

"That's better," he muttered, almost to himself.

And then his mouth was on you, hot and relentless.

A gasp tore from you, your thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut, but his grip held you open. His tongue worked slow at first, dragging long, torturous strokes through your folds, before circling right where you needed him most.

Your breath stuttered. "Oh—"

Logan groaned, the sound vibrating through you. "That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured against you. "Let me hear you."

You bit your lip, trying to keep some of the sounds at bay, but he didn’t like that. His hands squeezed your thighs in warning before his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking just enough to make your entire body jolt.

A cry ripped from your throat.

"Atta girl," he praised, the words sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. His grip adjusted, hands sliding lower, past your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs met your body. Holding you still. Keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

His tongue was merciless, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and firm, insistent pressure that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. Every flick, every graze of his teeth, sent electricity sparking up your spine.

You didn’t even realize you were babbling his name until he groaned in response, pressing his mouth harder against you. The pressure built fast, white-hot and overwhelming, your whole body tightening as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap.

"Logan, I—" Your voice cracked, desperate, hands flying to grip his hair, tugging without thinking.

That was all it took.

Logan growled against you, and then his tongue was working you over with ruthless intent, flicking and sucking in a way that sent you crashing over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching, his name spilling from your lips in broken, breathless gasps as pleasure wracked through you.

He didn’t stop.

Your thighs trembled against him, your whole body oversensitive, but Logan didn’t let up. His grip stayed firm, his tongue still dragging through your folds, teasing, relentless.

A whimper slipped from you, half-plea, half-helpless moan.

“Mmm, Logan?”

Your voice trembled—soft, breathless, still caught in the aftershocks of your first climax, and Logan felt it. The way your thighs quivered against his shoulders, your calves resting against his back, those damn heels grazing along the muscles of his spine. He exhaled sharply through his nose, lips still pressed to the slick heat between your legs.

“What, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating against you.

Your breath hitched. The heat of Logan’s mouth lingered against you, his tongue flicking one last, teasing time before he dragged his lips back up to press against the soft skin of your inner thigh. You twitched beneath him, a small tremor still rippling through your muscles, breath unsteady, fingers weakly curled into the sheets.

“I thought you were—”

Your voice caught as his teeth scraped lightly over your thigh, right where it was still damp from his mouth. He hummed, low and thoughtful, and didn’t move away. If anything, he settled in deeper, his broad hands tightening around your thighs, thumbs smoothing up toward the curve of your hips.

“Done?” His voice was all rough amusement, muffled against your skin.

A shaky exhale left you.

His lips curved. “Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss, slow and open-mouthed, right at the crease of your thigh. “You really think I’m done with you?”

Your breath stuttered. He hadn’t moved back—hadn’t given you any space to recover. He was still right there, his mouth still hovering over sensitive skin, his breath warm, teasing, pressing against you like a promise.

You swallowed, fingers flexing against the sheets. “I—”

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing right where you were still slick, still sensitive. Your whole body jerked at the touch, an involuntary sound breaking in your throat.

Logan groaned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his hands were on your hips again, sliding up your sides, holding you steady as he buried his mouth back between your thighs.

A gasp ripped from you, your body jolting at the sheer intensity of it. You’d barely come down from the first wave of pleasure, your skin still too sensitive, too raw—but Logan didn’t care. He was relentless, tongue pressing deep, slow, deliberate, dragging up before circling back around your clit.

You whimpered, your hands flying back to his hair, twisting in the thick strands.

He groaned again at the pull, the vibration of it sending another sharp, overwhelming pulse through you.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he muttered against you, voice thick, wrecked. “Could do this all night.”

Your legs trembled. You didn’t doubt him.

He worked you open with his tongue, slow and indulgent, taking his time, like he had nowhere else to be, no other priority but this—this, and the way you came apart in his hands. He pulled you closer, dragging your thighs up higher over his shoulders, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

The position shifted something, the heels on your feet sliding slightly against his back, the small sharp drag of them making him grunt.

His tongue flicked over you again, lazy, slow, savoring. He had you completely at his mercy, held tight in his grip, and he knew it.

“Logan,” you gasped, voice breaking.

He smirked against you. “That’s it, darlin’.” His tongue circled once, twice, before he sealed his lips around you again, sucking just right.

The pleasure built fast, unbearable, twisting in your stomach like a live wire sparking beneath your skin. Your breath hitched, your thighs shaking against him, the grip you had in his hair tightening as you tried to ground yourself.

Logan groaned, deep and approving, and then he doubled down. His mouth was insatiable, his tongue working you open, pushing you right to the edge without hesitation.

You felt it hit—sharp and sudden, your whole body tensing as your second orgasm crashed through you.

A sob caught in your throat. Logan didn’t stop.

He rode you through it, drinking in every sound, every twitch of your hips, every broken whimper that left you as you shattered against his mouth. He held you steady, his tongue still teasing, slow, languid, like he was tasting you, savoring the way you trembled for him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved up, dragging his lips along your stomach, pressing slow, hot kisses as he went.

“Think you can give me one more, sweetheart?” he murmured against your skin.

Your breath was still coming fast, your body still tingling with aftershocks. “I—”

"Yeah, darlin’," Logan rasped against your thigh, the vibration of his voice sending another tremor through your oversensitive body. He wasn’t asking—just waiting. Waiting for you to tell him no, to push at his shoulders, to make some attempt at stopping him.

You didn’t.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, his stubble dragging against the tender skin of your inner thigh as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss there. His hands stayed firm at your hips, thumbs smoothing slow, absent circles against your flushed skin.

"You got one more in you," he muttered. Not a question. A promise.

Your fingers curled weakly into the sheets, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "Logan, I—I don’t think—"

"You can." His voice was thick, low, possessive. His hands flexed against you, grounding, holding you still like he could feel the way your legs wanted to clamp shut, your body already overwhelmed. "I got you."

And then his mouth was on you again.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back arching as the wet heat of his tongue pressed against your still-sensitive clit. It was too much—the pleasure too sharp, too immediate, your nerves already frayed and exposed from the last two times.

Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, pulling without thinking. Logan groaned against you, the sound vibrating through every inch of your body, his grip tightening in response.

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to murmur against your skin. "You’re still so fuckin’ sensitive, huh?" He didn’t wait for an answer. Just grinned against you before dragging his tongue through your folds again, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every reaction, every helpless little sound that slipped from your lips.

Your breath hitched, thighs trembling against his broad shoulders. "I—Logan, I don’t—"

"Shhh, sweetheart." His voice was rough, but his touch was steady, unwavering. His hands slid up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, grounding you. "Just let me take care of you."

Your stomach clenched, your body torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. You were too sensitive, too overwhelmed—but Logan wasn’t relenting. He was dragging you over the edge whether you were ready or not.

His tongue pressed deeper, slow and indulgent, before curling up just right, and your body jolted, a sharp cry breaking from your throat. Logan growled at the reaction, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he kept you pinned beneath him.

"You feel that?" he muttered against you, the heat of his breath making you shudder. "How fuckin’ good you taste?" His tongue flicked against you again, making your whole body jerk. "Bet you don’t even know what you do to me."

You moaned, the sound half-frustrated, half-helpless. Your thighs clenched around his head, but Logan only groaned, pressing himself deeper against you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling of you coming apart beneath him.

Your grip in his hair tightened, pulling hard enough to sting. "L-Logan—"

"That’s it," he growled. "Say my name, sweetheart."

You did. Over and over, broken and breathless, as his mouth worked you open, relentless and unforgiving. His tongue was precise, knowing, dragging slow and then fast, flicking before sucking, giving you just enough to send another sharp pulse of pleasure tearing through you.

The coil in your stomach wound tight—too tight, too fast.

You felt it coming, and so did he.

"Give it to me," Logan muttered against you, his voice almost desperate. "Come on, darlin’."

And then he sucked—hard.

White-hot pleasure ripped through you.

Your whole body tensed, your back arching, your breath catching in a sharp, broken cry. The orgasm slammed into you with dizzying force, a wave so intense it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Your thighs clamped around his head, your fingers fisting in his hair, your entire body trembling against him.

Logan groaned, dragging his tongue through the mess he’d made, working you through every last tremor, every aftershock, until you were nothing but a shivering, spent mess beneath him.

Only then did he slow, his movements easing from hungry and desperate to slow and indulgent, like he was committing the taste of you to memory.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, your body completely limp against the mattress. Logan finally pulled back, pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh before lifting his head.

His lips were slick, his pupils blown wide, his expression dark with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Told you," he murmured.

You could barely manage to lift your head, still dazed, your limbs uncooperative. "Told me what?" you managed, voice hoarse.

His smirk deepened, and he reached up, gripping your ankle. His thumb brushed over the strap of your heel, gaze flicking to where it still sat, perfectly in place on your foot.

"Told you I liked these."

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing back to your face all at once.

Logan chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. He pushed himself up, his body unfolding as he moved over you, one arm bracing beside your head, his other hand gripping your hip. He was still fully dressed, still perfectly in control, while you lay there completely undone beneath him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing. "You’re—"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed, turning your face away, but he caught your chin, gently tilting your gaze back to him.

"You okay?" His voice softened, rough edges smoothing just enough to make your heart squeeze.

You nodded, still catching your breath. Logan’s thumb traced along your jaw, his gaze lingering on your face for a long moment before he finally leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin.

You felt the heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of him was solid, grounding, his presence steady and familiar.

Finally, Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly, his hands settling around your waist. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, then muttered, “Should get you cleaned up, huh?”

You made a small noise in response, still too boneless to move.

Logan smirked. "Yeah, figured."

With an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, he lifted you up, settling you against his chest. His hands skimmed down your legs, his fingers lingering at the straps of your heels before slowly undoing them, slipping them off one at a time.

You let out a quiet sigh as the last one slid from your foot, the ache in your calves finally easing. Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss against your temple.

"Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart," he murmured. "Ain't done takin' care of you yet."

And with that, he stood, carrying you effortlessly toward the bathroom.

yeah... i might've gotten a bit carried away

[norrisainz33]

Cover girl || LS2

☆ summary: logan’s dating a rather famous singer who isn’t your typical wag

☆ pairing: logan sargeant x reader

☆ fc & warnings: billie eilish and suggestive with mild haters. you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: yes!! i’m sorry this has taken so long. thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynuser: life’s been real good recently

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user1: LOGAN SPOTTED

user2: mother is mothering so hard

user3: still gutted that she’s dating that man

user4: and i’m gutted he’s dating her 🤢

user3: nah i know you didn’t disrespect her like that

yourbff: give me my hat back!!!!

ynuser: no :) it’s mine now! hope this helps

ynupdates: new music when?!

logansargeant: my baby girl 🤤

ynuser: my baby boy

user4: logan blink twice if you need help

user3: YOU need help user4

user5: i was at that show!! you slayed so hard, i sobbed my eyes out

user6: no it was literally everything i love her. did you see someone who looked like logan dancing around in the vip section or was it just me

user5: NO I SAW HIM TOO BUT I WASNT SURE

user6: ugh i love them

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ynuser: omg what a great story logan!

logansargeant: yea i wonder who posted it 🙄

ynuser: wrong answer

logansargeant: best content i’ve ever posted 😍😍😍 prettiest girl in the whole wide world 🤤🤤🤤🤤

ynuser: better 😘

user99: y/n/n not dressing like a teenage boy challenge failed

lilymhe: y/n!!!!!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

logansargeant: lilllyyyyyyy!!!!! - y/n/n

ynupdates: our girl 🫶🏻

alex_albon: when u coming to a race fr

logansargeant: the second im allowed to physically fight will**ms - y/n/n

alex_albon: whelp fair enough… guess i’m not seein ya

logansargeant: are you guys not coming to my show in milan anymore?! -y/n

alex_albon: we are im just being dramatic

user20: how logan bagged this baddie…. i will never know

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logansargeant: another race weekend in the books! p.s swipe for a surprise

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user22: solid race weekend logie bear

user2: sargenation loves you so very much logan, i hope you know that

ynuser: he does bb 🫶🏻

user2: ogmgogmogkgogmgbakfg YAY

ynuser: vroom vroom 🤤

logansargeant: let’s ride 😏

user20: charli mentioned 🫨

user43: y/n i’m begging you to make an appearance in the paddock

user34: the paddock could never handle the brilliance of y/n plus i think she’d have words with j****

user43: and i’m absolutely begging her to tell the lot of them off 😭😫

oscarpiastri: solid surprise! thanks for sharing!

logansargeant: 🤔

ynuser: osc are you still mad at me for taking your girl out on a date?

oscarpiastri: 🙄 no

user18: 🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅

user52: so close to loints! we are proud of you logan

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ynuser: surprise! i’m on the cover of vogue and my new album comes out in exactly 1 month from today 🤍

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user22: i am looking 🫣 respectfully

user54: holy moly i knew she was a baddy but WOW

lilyzneimer: hottest vogue cover i’ve ever seen

ynuser: it’d be hotter if you were on it

user33: i am better than no man

user55: logan sergeant you lucky lucky lucky man

sabrinacarpenter: i think im in love with you

ynuser: 🤭 don’t make me blush

logansargeant: my girl is gorgeous god damn

ynuser: your girl 🤍

logansargeant: i cant wait for everyone to hear your new music baby

ynupdates: this is not a drill !!! i repeat this is not a drill!!! we are getting new music!

user54: and you been hidin allat????

erling.haaland: 😍

user66: now what in the world are you doing here erling

user55: the duality of this woman is insane

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lilymhe: yes

lilyzneimer: yes

yourbff: yes

iamrebeccad: yes

user23: my god yes wtf

user85: yea 😔

alex_albon: MY EYES 😭

logansargeant: stop looking at my girlfriend!!!

alex_albon: mate you were the one who posted it

logansargeant: blah blah blah

user38: damn she is eating this up

ynupdates: i’m not sure if i want to be her or you more but yes i am jealous

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ynuser: award szn with my best friend 🤍

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user77: i feel like im interrupting something with that second pic

user66: that dress is absolutely gorgeous

lilymhe: very demure, very cutesy, very mindful

ynuser: you get me

logansargeant: black looks good on you but i look better 😏

ynuser: you know it 😍

alex_albon: get a room 😭

ynupdates: mother you amaze me. the body is tea

troyesivan: you are my idol

ynuser: stop it bb you’re mine

user55: serving BODY

julianalvarez: hermosa

user88: ok ms girl is in her serving body era i see

user99: i love you both so dearly

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logansargeant: summer break vibes

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user87: mr americana

user66: forever jealous about how logan gets to see a different side of y/n than all of us

kyle_kirkwood: hot boy summer

logansargeant: you know it

alex_albon: why aren’t you texting me back

logansargeant: man i texted you back a couple days ago

user43: logan sargeant the man that you are

user68: loints incoming , mans is well rested and happy

ynuser: my favorite frat boy

logansargeant: 😉

user98: logan being happy is all that i ever wanted

ynupdates: thanks for the y/n content logan!! you will forever be my favorite vroom vroom guy

user46: RAHHHHHH. so excited for you to race again after summer break!!

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user2: thank you for the sign of life y/n

user87: we miss him so much already

user27: where he goes we go

kyle_kirkwood: i hope you both join us in milwaukee this weekend 🫶🏻

alex_albon: i love you both no matter what

user37: i’m glad he’s got you

lilyzneimer: sending lots of love my dear

ynupdates: we love you logan. y/nnation is behind you every step of the way and is riding at dawn to take down will**ms

oscarpiastri: take care of him

user65: sargenation stands by logan no matter what

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! i’ve been struggling with writers block and have lost steam but will do my best to keep getting through the requests!! also i am gutted for logan , i miss him already

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[bamboobooshark]

LOGAN HOWLETT X READER

✩°｡𓏲🧺𖦹 ₊˚ HURT TO SMILE : 757 WRDS

Prompt by @cosmophoriia !

Logan grunted softly as he sat down in one of the chairs in the common room. He was still sore from a fight he had the previous day. Even if his body could regenerate, it didn't heal his aching muscles. He grabbed the remote and began flicking through the channels. "Nope. No. Nah," Logan muttered under his breath as he mindlessly continued. He set his elbow against the arm rest of the chair, putting his chin in his palm. He exhaled deeply and kept browsing in hopes something interesting would come up.

Some faint footsteps came from the corridor that went from the dining hall to the common room. "Logan! Marie told me you're finally back," a voice called from around the corner. The mutant sighed, his hand moving from under his chin to his temples. "Yea, kid. I'm back. What about it," he asked with a slightly irritated tone. They winced a bit at the way he spoke, but they knew that's how he always was when they came around. They ran over to Logan, sat on the floor right next to him, and tossed their head back to smile up at him. "What do you mean 'what about it'? I missed you! I miss you more than you could imagine. It feels like you've been gone for, like, a million years," they whined to him. They turned around so they were facing him. "Please don't leave for that long ever again," they begged with a pouty lip. Logan groaned softly. "I was only gone for two days. You're living. You're breathing. You're fine," he reassured him as he ran his hand back along their head.

They let out a soft huff of air before standing up. "You're such a sour puss," they teased. "Look. Watch. I'm gonna pretend to be you," they giggled. Logan rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what was coming. They immediately put on the most dramatic, grumpy expression they could and made their voice sound as gruff as possible. "I'm Logan and I'm the most grumpy, mean, aggressive person ever! I'm such a lone wolf! I don't need anyone," they mocked while trying their hardest to repress their smile. "Stop that," he growled. Their eyes widened a bit at his tone, feeling slightly intimidated. "You must be fun at parties," the muttered. "What'd you say," Logan asked with a raised eyebrow. "Nothing." They kept a soft smile on their face as they moved to the couch that was next to the chair he was in.

They decided to mess with him a bit more, so they sat there staring at him. It took Logan a few minutes to realize what they were doing. Once he did, he looked at them with a sharp gaze. "What? Is there something on my face," he asked, trying to play along. They paused for a second to think of a response. "Yeah. There actually is. You know what it is? A big, fat, sour frown," they said. "It would be better if you smiled like this," they beamed as they gave him their biggest, happiest grin. "See! Like that! Now you try," they offered. Logan shook his head. "No. I'm not gonna smile, kid. Stop that," he insisted, trying to shoo them off with his hand. He had no idea he just started a back and forth.

"But I love your smile!" "You love everything about me." "Yeah, but your smileeeee!" "No." "Yes." "Nope." "Please?" "No." "Pretty please? With a cherry on top? And some Dr.P too?" "Not happening," he said.

They got up from the couch, stood in front of him, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him. "Logan! It wouldn't hurt to smile! It really wouldn't," they said to him in a sing-somg voice. "It really would," he replied. "No it wouldn't. You just don't wanna try," they told him, being completely right. "Okay? I'm not gonna do something I don't want to. Now move so I can find something to watch," he grunted. They smiled hard once they realized just what they could say to get him to smile. "I love you, Logan," they hummed, sitting down on the couch and awaiting his reaction. As they guessed, he smiled softly. "I love you too, kid," he sighed, chuckling quietly.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Could you do a request with 15 and 16

With Logan where the reader dresses as him for Halloween

Costume Confusion

The Xavier mansion was decked out for Halloween, glowing with a hauntingly warm ambiance as orange lights flickered, fake spider webs clung to corners, and the unmistakable scent of pumpkin and cinnamon wafted through the air. The annual Halloween party was in full swing, with mutants of all ages wearing creative and occasionally ridiculous costumes. You, however, had been feeling a little uninspired this year.

As you scanned the room filled with witches, superheroes, and a very awkward-looking Cyclops in a vampire cape, you finally saw Logan — dressed as… Logan. Of course. His costume was simple: his usual flannel shirt, jeans, and that familiar leather jacket. No costume needed for someone who already embodied a legend.

But tonight, you had something special planned for him. Smiling to yourself, you snuck out of the crowd and headed to the room where you had stashed your last-minute costume. Logan didn’t know about it yet, but you were sure his reaction would be priceless.

When you emerged, your transformation was complete: flannel shirt half-open over a white tank top, jeans, and boots — the closest match you could find to Logan’s signature look. You’d even managed to get your hands on some claw-like props. You knew it wasn’t perfect, but it was the thought (and the teasing) that counted.

With your heart racing just a bit, you made your way back into the party, spotting Logan leaning against the wall, drink in hand, surveying the scene with his usual gruff demeanor. His eyes were scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

For a split second, his brows furrowed, like he was trying to process what he was seeing. Then, as you approached with a swagger mimicking his, his lips quirked into a lopsided smirk.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Logan’s voice was low, the familiar growl softened by a trace of amusement.

You grinned, giving a mock snarl as you raised your clawed hands. “I’m the best there is at what I do,” you said in your best (but terrible) Logan impression, drawing out the claws with a dramatic flair.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you’re tryin’ to be scary, darlin’, but you’re just way too cute.”

Your grin widened as you took a step closer, meeting his gaze. “I couldn’t find a costume, so I just decided to go as my partner,” you said with a playful shrug. “Figured it’d be easy. All I needed was some flannel, jeans, and an unshakable sense of grumpiness.”

He snorted, his smirk growing as he looked you up and down, clearly fighting to keep his amusement under control. “Well, you nailed the flannel and jeans. But the grumpiness? Nah. You’re too damn cheerful for that.”

“Maybe I’ll work on my brooding for next year.” You leaned in a bit, still grinning. “What do you think? Do I pass as a mini-Wolverine?”

Logan’s eyes softened for a moment as he reached out, gently tugging at the sleeve of your flannel shirt. “You look better in this than I ever could,” he muttered, and you could see the faintest hint of affection in his rough features.

You chuckled, slipping your hand into his, feeling the calluses of his rough palm against yours. “Thanks, old man.”

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t let go of your hand, giving it a squeeze instead. “Careful who you’re callin’ old when you’re dressed like me. People might get confused.”

You laughed, the sound mixing with the festive atmosphere around you. The two of you stood there for a moment, comfortable in each other's presence as the party buzzed around you. It was a contrast to the wild costumes and energy of the night, but that was part of what made it special. With Logan, you didn’t need over-the-top antics—just being by his side was enough.

After a beat, Logan glanced down at your makeshift claws. “Where’d you get those?”

“Made ’em myself,” you replied, lifting your hand to wiggle the faux claws. “Not as sharp as the real deal, but they’ll do.”

Logan grinned, his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. “Good thing. Don’t need you shreddin’ up the mansion tryin’ to be me.”

“Well, maybe if you’d let me use the real ones, we wouldn’t have that problem,” you teased, knowing full well how he’d react.

Logan shook his head, his chuckle deep and warm. “Not a chance, darlin’.”

As the party carried on, you both lingered near the edge of the room, watching the chaos unfold—kids running around in costume, the X-Men mingling and enjoying a rare night of peace. It was fun to be part of it all, but with Logan beside you, it felt like your own little moment, a quiet pause in the middle of the festive storm.

Leaning against him, you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer. He might not have been the type to dress up for Halloween or join in on the party games, but Logan was there with you, and that’s all that mattered.

You tilted your head to look up at him, catching his eye as he glanced down at you. “So, do I win for best costume or what?”

Logan gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. “You win, sweetheart. Hands down.”

“Thought so,” you muttered, grinning as you leaned into his warmth, the sounds of Halloween fading into the background as the two of you enjoyed the night in your own way.

[shybluebirdninja]

Claw Machine Master

Summary: Logan becomes obsessed with winning you a prize at the claw machine, but after burning through a hundred bucks and failing miserably, he uses his actual claws to grab the toy, setting off alarms. “Babe, I won, now run!”

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Gf!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You and Logan stroll through the arcade, the air buzzing with the sounds of laughter, beeping machines, and the smell of buttery popcorn. It’s one of those rare days where he’s not off saving the world or being a total grump. Instead, he’s decided to channel his inner child, and honestly, it’s hilarious watching this grizzly mutant navigate through a world of flashing lights and pastel-colored prizes.

“Hey, babe, check it out!” he shouts, pointing dramatically at a claw machine that’s blaring “Pick Me! Pick Me!” like a desperate kid at a birthday party. Inside, you see a plush unicorn, all sparkly and cute. It’s practically begging to be won.

“Logan, don’t,” you warn, laughing. “Remember the last time you tried to win me something? You ended up breaking the machine.”

“Yeah, but that was a fluke! This time will be different,” he insists, all pumped up and ready to go. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and you know that if he goes in, he’s gonna give it everything he’s got.

“Alright, but I’m standing back. I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime,” you tease.

He throws you a playful glare. “Pfft. How hard can it be? It’s just a claw.”

He approaches the machine like it’s a life-or-death situation. The little screen flashes “Insert Coins,” and Logan pops in a couple of bucks like he’s preparing for war. He adjusts his stance, rolling his shoulders back as if he’s about to take on a Sentinal. You stifle a laugh, taking a step back to observe.

“Alright, watch and learn, honey,” he says, smirking at you. “Claw Machine Master at work.”

The first attempt? A total flop. The claw barely grazes the unicorn before plummeting back down like a rock. Logan’s jaw tightens, his competitive side kicking in. “Okay, that was a warm-up. Just getting the feel for it.”

“Sure, let’s call it that,” you giggle, arms crossed, enjoying the show.

After another few rounds—and about fifty bucks later—he’s starting to get frustrated. “This damn thing is rigged! I swear it’s cheating!” he growls, glaring at the machine as if it just insulted him.

“Or maybe you just suck at claw machines,” you quip. “You’re a master at literally everything else, Logan, but this? Not so much.”

He throws you a playful glare. “Alright, smartass, you think you can do better? Get in there and try!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Nah, I’ll let you have this one. It’s more fun watching you lose your mind over a stuffed toy.”

With a snort, he rolls his eyes and goes back for another attempt. After burning through more cash, it’s clear that this unicorn is tougher than any enemy he’s faced. “Babe, I’m gonna win you this prize if it kills me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t! I don’t want you to end up in the emergency room because of a stuffed animal!”

Finally, he steps back, looking completely defeated. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “This isn’t over!” he declares, his voice rising like a battle cry. “I’ll get that unicorn if it’s the last thing I do.”

Suddenly, you see that wicked spark in his eye, the one that usually means he’s concocting something insane. “What are you thinking?” you ask, half-excited and half-terrified.

“Watch this,” he smirks, and before you can even process what’s happening, he unsheathes his claws, slicing through the air with a snikt that makes everyone turn to stare.

“Logan, no! Don’t you dare!” you shout, but it’s too late. He lunges at the claw machine and, with surgical precision, he reaches into the glass case.

“Babe, I won! Now run!” he yells, grabbing the unicorn as the machine starts blaring alarms like it’s the end of the world.

You grab his arm, yanking him away from the scene of chaos. “You crazy son of a—let’s get out of here!”

Logan, still holding the plush toy like a trophy, bursts out laughing, running like a madman with you right beside him. “I can’t believe I just did that! I’m like the Robin Hood of claw machines!”

“More like the criminal of claw machines!” you shout, laughing uncontrollably as you dart through the arcade, dodging other players and workers who are now chasing after you both.

As you reach the exit, Logan pulls you into a side alley, still holding the unicorn like a proud parent. “That was wild! Did you see their faces?”

You’re breathless, still giggling as you lean against the wall. “You just committed arcade robbery! And for a stuffed toy!”

He shrugs, grinning widely. “It’s worth it for you, babe. Plus, look at this thing! It’s adorable!”

“Logan, I love it, but next time, maybe let’s just buy a keychain?” you suggest, still trying to catch your breath.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. “Next adventure, babe. We’ll get matching unicorns or something.”

[wadewnstonwilson]

not helpin' your case.

summary: wade refuses to let logan sink into despair, constantly teasing him to lighten the mood. logan pretends to be annoyed, he secretly appreciates wade's presence, which keeps him grounded.

warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), none just fluffy goodness

word count: 1.4k

a/n: okay so i absolutely adore writing for wade because my adhd gets to go off the rails. tons of fluff, tons of dumb idiots being dumb idiots. i'll probably keep my poolverine fics to one shots because i just like little things of them here and there but enjoy!

Logan’s healing factor made him damn near indestructible. No matter how many bullets tore through him, how deep claws or blades sank into his flesh, his body always knitted itself back together as if nothing had happened. But the pain? He felt every second of it. The tearing, the ripping, the burning. The scars may not last long, but the memory of the agony lingered.

The physical pain, though, was the easy part. Logan could take a punch, a bullet, or an explosion and keep going. What he couldn't shake were the emotional scars. Decades—no, centuries—of loss, betrayal, and endless fighting. It was a constant burden, a weight that settled deep in his bones, refusing to let go. The faces of the people he'd lost, the betrayals he'd suffered—they all haunted him in the quiet moments, in the dark of night when the world stopped and there was nothing left but his thoughts.

And then, there was Wade.

The walking contradiction, the human cartoon, the man who turned every nightmare into a punchline. Wade had his own trauma—probably more than Logan, though it was hard to tell with him—but Wade’s way of dealing with it? He laughed. He made jokes, crude, sharp, and relentless. Where Logan brooded, Wade cracked jokes. Where Logan tried to bottle it all up, Wade exploded with it in a constant barrage of sarcasm and humor.

And while it drove Logan insane, it also saved him. Wade didn’t let him sink into the darkness. Wade wouldn’t let him dwell on the pain for too long. No, Wade kept him tethered to reality, whether Logan liked it or not.

“Yo, Claws!” Wade’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts like a knife. “What’s with that resting murder face? You’ve been staring out that window for, like, an hour. What, are you brooding about your tragic past again? Or are you just trying to figure out where your hairline went wrong?”

Logan, arms crossed, leaning against the window frame, didn’t even flinch. He’d gotten used to Wade’s voice crashing into his internal monologues like a freight train. He grunted in response, refusing to turn around.

Wade was sprawled out on the couch, his legs kicked up on the armrest, a katana in his hands that he was polishing far too enthusiastically. “Come on, man, you can’t be doing the brooding thing again. You’ve got more angst than a whole squad of moody teenagers at a My Chemical Romance concert. What’s going on in that big, furry head of yours? Still thinking about your tragic backstory? We get it—everyone you’ve ever loved has died, you’ve got an animal inside you, blah blah blah. Yawn.”

Logan’s lips twitched, though he didn’t give Wade the satisfaction of turning around. “I’m not brooding,” he muttered, voice low and gruff.

Wade sat up dramatically, hand on his chest like Logan had just insulted his honor. “Oh, really? And I’m not wearing pants!” He stood up, glancing down at his fully clothed legs with an exaggerated gasp. “Oh fuck, wait, I am wearing pants! Looks like we’re both liars, Lo.”

Logan finally turned, slowly, his arms still crossed over his chest. “You ever stop talking?”

Wade grinned, sauntering over with the swagger of a man who absolutely loved hearing himself speak. He tilted his head at Logan, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. Someone’s gotta keep you from turning into a walking tragedy, and I guess that’s my job now. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Logan let out a long, slow sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t brood.”

Wade poked him in the chest, right between his crossed arms. “Sure you don’t, Moody McStabberson. You just stand by windows staring off into the distance, thinking about all the people who betrayed you, probably playing sad music in your head. Real original, man. What’s next? You gonna write some dark poetry and start a Tumblr?”

Logan couldn’t help it this time. His lips quirked, just a bit. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Wade threw himself back onto the couch, dramatically flinging his legs back up as if the weight of the world was too much for him. “Ridiculously awesome, you mean,” he shot back, grabbing the TV remote and flipping through channels. “So what’s it gonna be tonight, claws? You wanna watch some depressing documentary about the fall of the Roman Empire or maybe something more your speed, like... I don’t know... a show about emotionally constipated loners who don’t know how to ask for help?”

Logan moved from the window, finally sitting down beside Wade, though he didn’t say a word. Wade’s constant barrage of sarcasm and jokes was like background noise now, a familiar hum that kept him grounded, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Wade’s face lit up as he found some late-night talk show with overly enthusiastic hosts and an absurd number of bright lights. “Oh, shit, this looks good,” he said, grinning. “Nothing like watching rich assholes pretend to care about regular people. Warms my heart.”

Logan leaned back, rubbing his temples as the bright lights of the show flashed across the room. “You’re gonna give me a headache.”

Wade shot him a grin, clearly delighted. “Aw, come on, Logie Bear. I know you’re having fun. You can’t lie to me. I’ve seen that twitch of a smile, you can’t hide it. Admit it, I make your life better.”

Logan let out a soft, begrudging chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass, Wade.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who took a bullet to the ass last week and then said it was ‘just a scratch’,” Wade said, flipping the channel again. “Seriously, I had to fucking dig a bullet out of your hairy Canadian ass, but sure, just a scratch. How’s the ass feeling now, by the way?”

Logan snorted—a rare sound from him—and Wade’s grin widened like he’d just won the lottery. He leaned over, jabbing Logan in the side with his elbow. “Admit it, you love when I get all Florence Nightingale on you. It’s like a sexy version of a nurse, except with more swearing, fewer clothes, and zero actual medical knowledge.”

Logan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re not helping your case.”

Wade nudged him again, his voice full of teasing. “Oh, come on. You know I’m the only person who can make you crack that grumpy exterior. It’s like my superpower—breaking through the Wolverine angst. And trust me, pumpkin, I love using it.”

Logan finally gave in, a soft chuckle escaping him. “Yeah, you’re real special, Wade.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” Wade said, stretching out on the couch, draping his legs across Logan’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. He flipped through the channels with his usual reckless abandon, not really looking for anything specific—just something to keep the noise going.

For a moment, the two of them sat there in companionable silence, the TV flickering in the background. Wade’s energy, usually a hurricane, seemed to settle, just for a moment. His legs were still draped lazily over Logan’s lap, his head resting back against the couch cushion, and Logan found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

“You ever stop to think,” Logan began, his voice low and thoughtful, “that maybe you’re the reason I’m not as messed up as I could be?”

Wade paused, remote still in his hand, his gaze flicking up to meet Logan’s. For a second, the sarcasm faded, the usual wall of jokes and bravado dropping. Wade tilted his head, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I kinda figured that was the deal.” He winked, the sass returning full force. “But don’t go getting all mushy on me, alright? I’ve got a reputation to uphold. I mean, I’m an asshole, not a Hallmark card.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that."

Wade leaned back, kicking his legs up higher as he flipped to another channel. “You need me, Peanut. Admit it.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but as he glanced over at Wade—at the way his presence filled the room with life, with noise, with something that kept Logan’s mind from spiraling into the dark places it so often wandered—he knew Wade was right. The man was a walking disaster, but he was Logan’s disaster.

“I guess I do,” Logan said softly, and for once, Wade didn’t make a joke.

Instead, he smiled, turning his attention back to the TV, his legs still draped lazily across Logan’s lap.

And for a little while, everything felt just a little bit easier.

[tastic-in-its-finest]

Heyyyyy 💜💜

First of all I love your writing so muchhhh second I have a headcanon that Virgil would be emetophobic (fear of vomit) because of his time with Remus who kept teasing him about it (like making gagging sounds). Can you write Virgil getting sick when they're already older with the light sides and absolutely panics, and patton/Logan taking care of him??

Don't think about it

Thank you so much, I'm glad you love my writing <3 as for your prompt, I hope you also love this. I hope you don't mind that I continued off of the previous work (but this could probably be read as a standalone)

Summary: For years, Virgil’s had a fear of vomit. A fear that he would rather deal with by himself. However, luck is not on his side and shortly, everyone knows just how bad he fears it.

Word count: 6148

Warnings/Tags: LOT of mentioning of throwing up and actual throw up, descriptions of gross things, slight mention of bugs, snakes, blood, and guts. Also a panic attack

Ao3 | other work

...

The morning is quiet. An uncomfortably weird quiet that he has yet to get used to. But it's much better than Remus shrieking or destroying the house like he does every morning. So he really was just reveling in the perks of being accepted.

Who knew that when you’re less stressed you can actually enjoy the small things in life? Like his bed was abnormally comfy that he almost didn’t want to leave.

But he has family breakfast in the morning.

Virgil goes downstairs and stops at the last step to see a familiar scene in front of him. Roman often sat in his regular seat, shouting at a reasonable volume about his latest adventure or whatever recent escapade he had gotten Thomas into. Then there was Patton, diligently listening as he aided Logan with whatever’s on the menu this morning. Logan however, was always 100% focused on cooking, or if Virgil slept late enough, reading while sipping a coffee, cause unlike the other two, he didn’t talk while he ate.

Overall, pretty normal.

“Ah Virgil! Good morning. I need your opinion on something,” Roman turned around on his chair.

“Uh sure— What is it?” He was still getting used to people calling him by his actual name. It had only been a few weeks after all.

“Wellllll, Thomas was just talking to this cute fellow down the street, and I was just thinking that we should ask him out sometime. What do you say?”

Virgil blinks, “… Do you know who you’re talking to right now?”

“Is that a yes?”

“No! What if Thomas ends up breaking up with the guy, then it's just going to be awkward when he takes out his trash. OR not even that, what if he rejects Thomas and tells all his other neighbors that he’s a creep and they will never talk to him again!”

“Sheesh, alright alright! But…” Roman dramatically turns to the kitchen, “Specs! Do you believe that Thomas is at a good place in his life where he could start dating?”

Logan turns around confused, “Why are you asking me? I am not an expert on romance.”

“But if Thomas were to start dating, would now be a good time for him?”

“Well… I wouldn’t say anytime is a ‘good’ time. However, considering Thomas’ recent consistency to the schedule and his ability to complete tasks on time. Then yes, now would be a good time. It’s just a matter if he says consistent.” Logan muttered the last part.

“There! See Virgil? Thomas is ready.”

“It would still be awkward though…”

“Oh hush!”

Virgil huffs a laugh but quickly turns to get a morning juice from the fridge.

However, he stops before the fridge door hits him square in the face as Patton rustles in there, trying to find something.

“Oh, sorry kiddo. I’m trying to find some pickles but it's very jarring,” Virgil smirks, “Nah, you’re fine Pat. Didn’t you put it in the back corner?”

“Oh, maybe! But you know… while I’m digging through here, is there something you would like?”

“Just a caprisun.”

“Well, you’ve come to the ripe place.” Another witty eye rollable pun he must pretend not to like.

“Ha! I guessed it this time.” Roman hollers, “One extra sandwich please!”

Virgil rolls his eyes and smiles cause Roman has consistently failed to guess what he’ll drink in the morning. Thus, when he finally gets it, the extra sandwich is earned.

“Here you go!” Patton hands him a nice cold caprisun, which he wastes no time to open, “Thanks.”

With this Roman resumes his previous conversation with Patton, effectively taking the spotlight off of him which he’s joyous about. He also takes the opportunity to sit on an empty kitchen counter, sipping away.

When he gets a closer look into the kitchen, instead of Logan hovering over the stove and making sure it doesn’t burn down without him, Patton is. And he doesn’t leave the stove, not once except for his trips to the fridge.

It seems like Patton’s the one cooking this morning. Now, Patton wasn’t the best cook, he knew the basics, but he certainly wasn’t a cooking machine like Logan. While he was definitely learning with Logan teaching him every morning, he still neglected a few basic things like leaving the stove on after cooking. Virgil wasn’t one to judge though. The best he can do is manage the microwave and toaster which he’s mastered over the years. However, Patton was a fantastic baker, so maybe Virgil was a little hopeful to see cupcakes or cookies for breakfast like Logan would allow that.

He knew they were having sandwiches, leaning more into brunch than traditional breakfast. There was a lineup of tuna cans, a pickle jar, eggs, and slices of bread. Huh, tuna sandwiches.

They were trying to mix them in a bowl but the pickle jar was less cooperative. Virgil figured he should help out a bit, “You need help?”

“Oh, sure!” Patton handed it to him.

The lid was stuck tight but after a bit of tugging he managed to get it open.

Then a foul sour odor that he felt as if he could taste travels deep into his nose. He wanted to gag, he really did. How rotten were these? It made him feel like he was going to—-

Throw up?

He coughs as he puts a hand over nose and sets the nasty pickles aside. Patton takes notice, “Oh, do you not like pickles?”

“No, these just smell awful.”

Patton takes a sniff and cringes just like he did, “Agh, why does it smell that bad?”

“Possibly the fermentation?” Logan comments as he continues stirring, just like Virgil's stomach…

Patton and Logan continue discussing it, but he couldn’t exactly focus on the conversation because of the smell. Even though the pickles were far away, the smell continued to sting his nose and brew, like it was bubbling in his mouth as well.

When he stands up from the counter to sit away, he feels a wave of heat and dizziness upon landing his feet on the ground.

Oh no, he leans onto the counter for a little support, was he really going to do this?

A few steps in trying to get to the dining table, his stomach begins to drop. Great, the nausea is coming in. Don’t focus on anything else, just make it to a trash can (preferably away from anybody else).

The bathroom.

“They shouldn’t smell like that…” someone muttered.

“I think they went bad…” another mumbled.

”Hey Virge, where are you going?” He happened to make it halfway up the stairs until Roman had to say something.

“Uh, the bathroom.”

“Ah, alright?” Roman sounded suspicious. Why? He didn’t know and he frankly didn’t care.

After reaching the top of the stairs, with no one watching him, he runs to the bathroom and collapses over the toilet, right square, staring at the barrel of the bowl.

Just in case someone went upstairs, he waves his fingers which promptly closes the door and locks it next to him.

Alright, so, if he throws up, he won’t make a mess. That thought was both terrifying and slightly comforting.

~~~~

”Blegh! Blegh!!” Remus was gagging over the table, nothing was actually coming out of his mouth but Virgil couldn’t help but imagine it. Ever since Remus found out about Virgil throwing up for the first time, the boy wouldn’t stop asking questions about it and making those gross noises… he was starting to know why Dee told him to never tell Remus everything, but it was so hard not to. Especially when he had to explain why he wasn’t in his room this morning.

“Remus, knock it off,” Dee walked by, patting Remus’ head, who blew a raspberry in return. His gloved hands sets down a bowl of a brownish gray, gooey and clumpy looking thing… of food.

“Mmmmm, vomittt,” Remus grabs a spoon from the bowl and lets the vomit drop back down. A ping stabs his stomach, with that aching rumbling that he felt last night when he…

No, no, no, no, no, no, he didn’t want to throw up again. He really didn’t want to do that again. It felt so violating, like he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t want to eat that,” he slid down on his seat so he didn’t have to see it anymore.

“It’s not actually vomit, Anxiety, it’s just oatmeal,” Dee tries to scoop some as it plops dead center onto his plate.

“But Remus said—“

Deceit sighs, “I know what he said but believe me, it's not that bad.”

“Yeah, it's not actually vomit,” Remus scoops a bit onto his plate, “It does look like it though,” he mumbled. Remus starts scarfing it down, and a bit of it drizzles from his lips, “Who knows, maybe one day you'll throw up and it'll never stop.” His stomach turns at the thought.

“And what would you throw up? Bugs, snakes, blood, or guts?” He covers his ears but he can still hear Remus’ loud volume through muffles. Dee says something but he feels too sick to hear it.

“I could imagine there would be a point where it wouldn’t be food anymore. Just pure spit, blood, and organs if you couldn’t stop it.” He didn’t want to imagine this, it didn’t make him feel good.

And then he’s hit with it. A wave of nausea… His empty stomach won't twist anymore and his mouth feels dry and icky, awaiting what's coming. He has no choice but to vomit again.

Virgil stumbles out of his chair and tries reaching a toilet, but he doesn’t get far before it happens right on the carpet.

~~~~

To keep his mind off of it, he summons Thomas’ IPod with his old music that he listened to during his emo phase throughout his teen years which wasn't all that bad. Maybe even criticizing the music will take his mind off his stomach and he won’t throw up all together.

But no, the music along with the current situation made him think of less important things instead.

~~~~

Virgil is slightly laying down on the couch, right at the end, so if anybody sits down he’s not sandwiched between them. Even so, he was reading a philosophy book so he's ‘cultured’ as Dee puts it. Like he needs to read this to understand why moral obligation is bad. Just say you don’t like Morality, Deceit.

Either way, he wasn't going to put himself through this without listening to his trusty Ipod that Thomas got recently. Not only that but Thomas had been dabbling in some emo culture too that he’d taken an interest in. And Virgil loved it. So he had also been wearing some of the makeup that Thomas experimented with. And it may look bad or hideous but if anybody had anything to say about it then they can—-

“Ooooo, cool makeup. Are you trying to die?” He peers from the book to see Remus upside down, sprawled over the rest of the couch with his legs hanging off the end, crazy unsettling eyes and smile as per usual.

“No, why did you say that?” He’s very close to kicking his head.

“Hehe, when people die, they put makeup on them to make them look less dead for open caskets. Is that what you’re doing?”

“No.”

”Why not?”

“Cause I’m not dying.”

“Not yet.”

Virgil sighs and tries to find his previous spot, but Remus reaches over with his finger and drags down the book.

“Do you know what we are having for dinner?”

Virgil shrugs.

Remus laughs, “Oatmeal.”

“Remus.”

“The grey one.”

“Come on,” Virgil huffs. The book won’t rise because of the finger.

“It was a little funny wasn’t it?”

“No.”

“The way you fell out of the chair was really—“

”—You really won’t let it go, will you?” The glare he gives does nothing. He doesn’t know why he expected it to. Remus does a small cackle, “Nope!”

Virgil sits up a bit on the couch, “I was like five or something.”

“Me too! And you really did throw up a lot. It was a little impressive.”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious too. You could throw up a lot more now,” Remus tries to poke his stomach but Virgil blocks him with the book.

“I wanna see,” his smile widened. However, Virgil was reserved to not ever under any circumstance, think or even try to throw up. Especially not for Remus’ amusement. Which made him sick in itself.

He didn’t want to think about… the bile, the smell, or the raspy throat afterwards.

“Uhhhhhh Virgie?”

Blink, blink, “Hm?”

“Were you considering it?”

“No,” he never wanted to. But he knew this wasn’t going to be the last time Remus brought up the subject.

~~~~

At this point, he should just do it.

It's going to happen. Anytime now.

He didn't know if he wanted it to be done quickly just to get it over with. Or if he wanted to prolong this because Virgil knows that with his luck it's going to happen when he least expects it. Not like this is the first time.

~~~~

He immediately regretted opening his door. A foul, and inconceivable smell floods his nose. And he would have sulked back into his room, but someone tugs at his sleeve.

“Virgie-poo, just who I need!” It’s Remus, dragging him by linking their arms together and skipping. Well, more like dragging Virgil who was resisting at every chance he got.

“What do you need me for? Why don’t you ask Deceit?”

“Cause, he’ll probably say no. But either way, I made this game especially for you and me!” Oh boy, this is going to be a disaster.

Remus stops at the foot of the kitchen which is where the smell has intensified. But alas, he lets go of Virge. By this point, he’ll just be dragged again if he turns around so he tries entertaining whatever Remus’ idea is just to make this a little bit enjoyable for himself. Cause he was either, 1. going to be subjected to something he doesn’t want to see/hear/touch/smell or 2. he was going to be the butt of the joke of whatever idea this was.

But for now, the only questionable part of the kitchen was a mysterious pot where the smell must be immiting from. Imagine spoiled milk, meat, and mold together while coming from a wet dog after a mud bath, is what it smelled like.

Upon closer inspection, he is dealing with option 1. and possibly option 2. He gazes inside at this concoction, which is as colorful and chunky as he expects. It’s even boiling too. It looks like vomit…

Virgil backs away and covers his mouth along with his nose to keep from smelling it anymore.

“Alright! Now, put on some gloves, don’t let it touch you. We need as much as we can so they can drink it,” Remus snaps latex gloves on both hands.

“I’m not drinking that.”

Remus blinks for a bit, “Well, I was going to hand it out to Roman’s villagers, but if you want to drink it you go ahead,” Remus seemed hopeful.

Virgil tilts his head, a little confused, “But… then why are you involving me in this?”

Remus begins to chuckle before settling down, looking amused, “Prince poops a lot has been a real meanie to you lately, so I thought doing this and seeing his face while his villagers implode would be fun!”

“Now!” Remus claps and turns around back to the pot, “Let’s get it ready so it doesn’t look suspicious,” Remus rubs his hands together, but Virgil cannot lift a hand without being attacked by the smell, not to mention the bubbling and colorfulness of the contents.

“I can’t,” Remus turns around and seems to grasp his problem. He could imagine how sick he looked, “Oh! It doesn’t smell that bad—” Remus couldn’t finish his sentence before Virgil ran away.

Now unlike the many other times something like this has happened, he managed to reach an actual toilet. It took him by surprise, one moment he feels like gagging, then he realizes something is actually coming up with it. He didn’t throw up much though, just bile. But it was particularly acidic in his throat.

“You look great.” Remus appears and leans on the doorway.

“Was this your actual plan?”

“Uh no? But this is a welcome surprise,” Remus is just as close to the toilet as he is, he peeks a look at the liquids. And he summons a spoon…

“Don’t. Seriously.” Virgil slams the toilet lid and flushes much to the disappointment of the duke.

“Are you ready now?” Remus asks. There was no way out of this was there?

He sighs. He was going to need a nose plug and some shades.

~~~~

Either way, he's much safer here next to the toilet than anywhere else. One flush and he doesn’t have to smell it or deal with it like he would with a trash can.

No, that was much worse.

~~~~

It was just like when he was a child. When he woke up, the room was dark and non-navigational. His room was often messy too cause he hadn’t really been listening to Deceit scolding him over his disorganization. But at the time, it made sense cause even so he knew where everything was. At a time like this however, he wished he listened.

He trips over a pile of laundry as he ducks for his desk. He doesn’t let it bother him and throws his chair to the side as a result, feeling under the desk hastily with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. And the vomit wouldn’t stop, it was beginning to drip down his fingers cause it was slowly slipping out of his mouth. When he finally finds the trash can, he lets it all out, not like it was much, but enough.

The smell itself is enough to make him feel nauseous all over again, along with all the food he had thrown away in this trash can.

Great this is perfect, he wipes his eyes as he starts crying. Maybe it was the acidity of the vomit smell or it just sort of happened. But really, he felt gross. He is covered in vomit (on his one hand but still), and smelling it like it's a hobby. But god forbid he tries to clean up and gets the urge again. Then he has a mess on the carpet, which he doesn’t even know if he could clean up without constantly thinking about it.

But he wasn’t going to ask Deceit. He wasn’t going to be treated like an obligation. Or have Remus find out. He doesn’t need the extra energy.

And that by itself made him feel even worse. Because vomit or not, he was alone.

He was all alone.

~~~~

There's a small knock on the door which he can immediately tell is Patton.

“Hey Virge, are you ok in there?”

“Yeah.” He sounded way too pathetic.

“Oh, alright. Well, breakfast is ready, it’s egg-stra special!” That makes him smile a bit. Although, he forgot how oblivious Patton could be.

“Okay.” He mumbles as he hears the footsteps walk away.

He’s just going to sit here for a little longer. Just in case.

He stands from the toilet and his back stabs him as punishment. Bending over on the hard floor laying on his knees for a good ten minutes clearly wasn’t isn’t good for him.

However, the dizziness isn’t as intense as it once was as the smell and horrible thoughts eventually subsided. Nevermore, he leans on the sink and examines his face as it feels flushed and gross even without throwing up. And he wasn’t wrong.

His eyeshadow was smudged pretty badly from rubbing his eyes and even… was he crying? He looked like he did, the makeup lines down his cheeks were proof of it.

He remembered sniffing a bit and his face feeling wet, but he didn’t realize he was crying.

Virgil rolls up his sleeves and sighs, this isn’t healthy, not at all. What adult cries over throwing up?

But how is he supposed to stop this though? Just forget every single horrible experience he had throwing up? All that teasing and humiliation?

He turns on the facet and throws cold water on his face, which removes some heat from his face and provides a wave of relief.

Remus was just being Remus. But he was being a big baby about this. He should just get over it. Virgils not a kid anymore so he shouldn’t act like one. When was the last time Thomas threw up as an adult?

He summons a pallet and begins getting to work with a hasty makeup job.

This was just pathetic. He’s grown up. He’s seen and smelled a lot of things throughout the years (that may or may not have made him sick) so he shouldn’t be bothered by something as small as spoiled pickles.

When he looks back at himself again, he’s slightly happier. Not perfect, but not a mess anymore. And he isn’t going to cause a mess either, right?

Whatever, he’s probably been gone long enough, he shouldn’t keep them waiting anymore.

It seems as if Virgil didn’t miss much.

While Roman and Logan are already settled at the table, Patton is still messing around in the kitchen finishing up his sandwiches. While all of them are conversing, he tries not to engage to not draw any unwanted attention to himself because explaining why he was gone is more embarrassing than what actually happened. His plan doesn’t work however, because just going downstairs is enough.

“Greetings Virgil. How are you feeling?”

”Uh fine,” that was not convincing at all. You would think he would be a good liar by now since he was raised by one.

“How are you?” He responds back, and maybe Logan didn’t notice much because all he says is, “I’m satisfactory. However, I fail to see why creating another web series would be a good idea for Thomas. So I’d like your opinion to show why I’m right and Roman’s wrong.”

“Really!?” Roman interrupts mid bite, “The only opinion you need is mine because Thomas needs to let his creativity out there! He can’t just be sitting here all day doing nothing.”

“Thomas doesn’t sit around and do nothing all day. He already has plenty of creative projects and I can’t conceive why it would be a good idea to add another when he already has enough on his ‘figurative’ plate,” Logan concludes by taking a bite.

“I agree with Logan,” Virgil comments, and effectively leaves to the kitchen since Roman would ask why and he does. However, Virgil ignores him because Logan has already taken over in his place and Virgil’s already wasting his time.

The ticking time clock of his stomach isn’t going to wait.

Please just let him get a sandwich, eat, then retreat to his room so he can be prepared again if he feels the need to throw up.

Rounding the kitchen, the first thing he sees is the dreaded pickle jar, the same one that started this. They didn’t cook with it right?

“Um, are those the same pickles?” He points, and Patton perks up from where he’s about to leave with two tuna sandwiches.

“Oh! No. Roman summoned new ones, they’re much better!”

“Ok, cool,” Patton smiles as he leaves for the table.

Virgil gets a plastic plate, in case he wants to head to his room and finish the food there and so he doesn’t go back down for dishes. One sandwich, because two might make him feel sick and three is out of the question. And a piece of a grape vine, because fruit is good for you.

He sits down and absently listens to the conversation mostly dominated by Logan and Roman arguing about the same topic. This feels much longer than usual, like time slowed down for this moment only. Probably because he’s eating pretty slow and only focusing on that.

As much as he would like to scarf down his food, it would probably upset his stomach more which is counter productive. It's a balanced game of eating fast enough that he’s making progress but slow enough that his stomach isn’t further disturbed.

Even then he feels it building up, or maybe it's all in his head? Either way, it's not good.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Don’t think about it.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It’s all in your head.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Your stomach is twisting because you’re hungry, just calm down.

But Virgil’s stomach starts to turn in an all too familiar way.

He needed to stop this, and quickly. But his dinner was already coming up and it wasn’t going to wait for him to run to the bathroom. Hell no, he slaps a hand over his mouth, he was not going to throw up in front of everyone.

He gags down as it starts coming up, no, it takes everything in his body to swallow it down, as it grates down his throat and his hand is left shaking.

When he looks up, all conversation is gone with all eyes on him, extremely concerned. God, he looks down at his plate, he really wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

“Were you… just about to?” Roman motions with his hand acting as vomit and Virgil takes one moment to look up and nod. With so many eyes on him it was especially hard to look at and maintain eye contact, cause this situation was the pinnacle of embarrassment and he didn’t need their faces of disgust, especially Roman’s. “Ohhhh no, nope, I cannot deal with throw up,” he heard Roman get up next to him and walk into the living room, “Sorry Virge, it's nothing personal. If you throw up then I’ll throw up!”

Virgil scowls, “It’s not like I want to.”

“Oh, Virgil. If you’re sick, you can stay in your room and rest. Maybe give you something else to eat?” Nice offer, but Virgil was not going to let Patton coddle him right now.

“No, no, it's fine. It’s not this,” he gestured toward the food, “I just…” did Virgil really know why he was sick? No, he wished. But he knew where it started from…

“It’s just uh.. pickles?” Yep, just gloss over the years of fearing even the mere thought of throwing up. That is surely smart.

But how do you bring something like that up? Especially to people who just learned your name? “They didn’t smell that good and you know, it hasn’t made me feel good so I’ve been worried about…”

“Projectile vomiting?”

“God Logan, you don't have to say it like that!” Roman shrieked across the living room.

“Well, I think the both of you are taking this situation too seriously. Yes, the idea and action of throwing up is particularly unpleasant. However, simply thinking about the idea and action of doing so, will often make a person feel more sick and increase the chance of throwing up rather than doing so because someone isn't feeling well. Especially if there is a fear of vomit.”

“But wouldn't trying not think about it make you think about it more?” Patton questioned.

“Exactly. It's like—“ A hand slaps over Logan's mouth in a forceful way. Apparently, he was going to say something that he shouldn’t. Great, another reminder that Deceit is a control freak.

Logan is taken back but he seems to understand as he removes his hand, “Well, nevermind. It's like… when Roman has a consistent idea for Thomas but if you continue to force the thought out, the more repetitive and persistent a thought becomes like the new web series he wants to introduce.”

“But… this is the first time I mentioned it?” Roman chimes.

Logan sighs, “This was meant to be an allegory about your b-r-o-t-h-e-r, but I digress.” Well, that made sense. They are particularly close to Thomas’ consciousness and he didn’t know about the others yet. Like Virgil would ever want them to see him.

Virgil coughs, “Well, yeah. But it's not like you can just not think about it when you don’t feel well,” he tries to argue.

“Then why don’t we distract ourselves?” Patton said a little bit unsure, looking at Logan for assurance, who instead looks dead into Virgil’s eyes, “If you’re not feeling well then the best course of action would be to engage in practices to reduce any nausea and effectively rest.”

“Mhm,” Virgil’s stomach doesn’t agree.

“And Roman, you should do the same as well if you are beginning to feel any queasiness,” Logan stands up from his seat, gearing towards the kitchen.

Roman gasps, “I am not queasy! Just a little unsettled,” the prince huffs as he plops onto the couch.

Virgil takes a deep sigh, he can’t believe that just happened. He almost vomited in front of everyone. How embarrassing?

He looks at his half eaten sandwich that he doesn’t feel compelled to eat nor the grapes.

Just breathe. Your stomach hurts but so what? You can deal with it.

But maybe he can’t. And as much as he tries to swallow it again, it won’t stop. No matter what he does, when he’s sick, he vomits. And someone always has to see and never let him live it down. Always clean up after him.

Now is not any different than any other time.

But as he turns to his side anticipating to vomit, there is a trash can? He would have remembered if it was there before. There are hands at the side holding it to him and a watch on one of its wrists.

He isn’t given time to think about it anymore before he vomits into the trash bag and spits the remains of it as well.

“Breathe,” it's not his head saying it this time, but Logan. He looks up to see Logan’s the one holding the trash can but he doesn’t look displeased to be doing so.

Virgil huffs a laugh, “Nice save teach,” he can’t talk without feeling the urge again. However, it quickly leaves this time.

“Thank you. How are you feeling?”

He swallows, “It’s going to happen again,” his knee is bouncing.

“It’ll be ok Virgil. I need you to breathe for me.”

He tries and fails, like his breathing is on pause, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can… Please look at me.”

Virgil squints at Logan, he can’t focus on his entire face so he tries staring at his glasses.

“Okay, good. Now breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth,” Logan follows his own instructions as a demonstration. This should be easy Virgil, come on.

He breathes in through his nose, and as a result, gets a whiff of the vomit steaming from the trash can.

He coughs into the trashcan again, nothing comes out but he couldn’t help but gag.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok Virgil, here… um,” Logan looks up to someone else who swishes by to get another trash bag. Virgil feels bad just staring at Logan like his life depends on it because it does. If he doesn’t, he’ll just hurl again. Ignoring the other pair of glasses that are changing the trash can, he thinks it's Patton who completely disregards the foul one. Now he has a fresh can. Perfect for another round.

He groans at the thought, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry Virge, it's just for the smell,” that wasn’t Logan, it was Patton.

“Mhm, we are going to help you breathe right now. Let's restart.” Okay.

Breathe in through his nose, and he takes in the fresh air and breathes out through his mouth which tasted absolutely awful.

“Uh, padre, teach? I got some water to rinse it out.”

“Thank you Roman,” Logan takes it from Roman and hands it to him. Before they explain why he needs it, he looks up to the prince shying behind them. While he expected him to be disgusted, he didn’t expect him to look worried but also not looking too good himself. He gives him a curt nod however which perks up the prince's mood a bit.

Washing out his mouth is as awful as an experience that he expects it to be, but he spits it into the new trash can.

And afterwards, he can properly breathe, without the guidelines he needed before.

And now the embarrassment has tripled to levels he didn’t realize he could experience.

Virgil sets the trash down and leaves it on the ground.

Logan spoke up, “This was more serious than I thought it was. I apologize, Virgil, for not realizing sooner.”

“You— you don’t have to apologize. Besides, you caught it before even I did.”

“Yes, but unfortunately, we could have done more for you.”

“Buuuuut! I have an idea,” Patton smiles, “Why don’t we make you something to help with your stomach?”

Logan hums, “Ok then. Patton, would you please ensure it's one of these options?” Logan hands Patton a newly conjured list, which he skims over and perks up, “Alrighty.”

Logan turns his attention away from Patton, “And Roman?” Virgil turns his head and realizes that despite Roman standing up earlier, he was sitting with him now.

“Um yeah?”

“You have more knowledge on Virgil’s favorite media so would you please pick something he’d enjoy. However, I perfectly understand if you would like to leave because of your reaction to vomit.”

Roman blinks, “Ohhhhhh,” he has a mischievous smile, “Thank you for worrying but no I’m completely fine.” Roman sings as he runs towards the couch.

”Wait, what are you guys doing?” Virgil croaks.

Patton passes them as he heads to the kitchen, “We’re going to help you feel better kiddo.”

“Uhhh how?” he waves his hand.

“By giving you a good ol’ self care day!” Roman proclaims as he flicks through the tv channels.

“Exactly,” with the snap of his finger, Logan has a unicorn onesie on.

“Is this really appropriate?” Virgil asks.

“Onesies are always appropriate.”

“No! I mean…” he takes a moment to breathe, “What if I just don’t get better? Like I can’t stop vomiting. It’s not going to be fun.”

Patton walks up and kneels to him, “Kiddo, we want to help you get better. No matter how sick you are. Family takes care of each other.”

“That was so cheesy… but Patton's right!” Roman snaps and materializes a beast onesie from Beauty and The Beast, along with that, the tv showcases lists of Tim Burton movies.

When Patton gets up he takes off his cat onesie from his shoulders and snaps it on.

They all look at him expectantly.

While he feels slightly pressured to go along, he is also aware that they probably won’t be mad if he says no. So he does the most reasonable thing he can do and snaps his fingers, “Fine…”

He wears his jack skeleton onesie and Roman shrieks with excitement, “Ok, perfect! Now, we just need some blankets and candles and Tim Burton.”

“Candles may increase nausea so it depends on if Virgil would like some.”

“Uh, that's a nice thought and all but I really don’t want to smell this anymore,” he gestures to the trash can as the acid begins to stink.

“Oh right.”

…

The couch cushions are quite comfortable (even though he was forced not to sit on the top of the couch) but at this moment he was glad. He was glad he was being piled with warm blankets and able to borrow Patton’s heating pad which he should definitely use more often. He was glad he had an empty trash can available in case, and Logan who was ready to change it with no issue. And Roman who provided a nice distraction through commenting over the movie, which he would challenge on occasion.

Instead of a tuna sandwich, he was given a banana, toast, and a package of applesauce which didn’t upset his stomach and tasted pretty good.

While he was skeptical at first, Patton gave him some peppermint tea and Logan of course listed the benefits of drinking tea, hydration, and assured him he had nothing to worry about.

And he didn’t. His mind was empty of things to exactly worry about.

So he was glad. Very much.

“Hey Virge,” Patton whispers to him.

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you can tell us anything. We’ll always be here for you, ok?” Patton smiles.

Virgil returns it, “Ok...”

But more than anything, he felt lucky.

Lucky to be surrounded by people that he knew cared about him. They weren’t bothered that he was sick or ever scolded him for his fear. They were here.

He was lucky they were here.

[iluvchick3nz]

i just saw a tik tok where a hockey player used the bottom of their skate to crack a drink can to shotgun it… i’m envisioning…

(ur work is incredibly and i’m obsessed w everything you write!!!)

I SAW A VIDEO OF THIS, TOO! It was a women's college hockey team- very impressive!

I gotta say, though, this one kind of got away from me. It went in a COMPLETELY different direction than I thought it was going to, although I'm not mad about it. I hope you like it!

I'm also currently sat with a cup of tea and my computer, writing up a storm! I am hoping to have these prompts written and edited within the next day or two, so please send me more if you want!

Credits to @lumosinlove

Logan didn’t even like the taste of beer that much, but the cold liquid did feel good sliding down his throat after a win. It was late April now, just before the playoffs, and the Rangers had finished their undefeated home streak with another win, setting off an electric feeling in the locker room. They had barely finished taking off their jersey when Percy and Alex had supplied them with beers. 

“Fucking beauty of a goal, Tremz!” Percy shouted in his ear over the thumping bass music. “OT win to close it out, let’s fucking go!”

Logan laughed and let Percy tip his head back again and press a can to his lips. It wasn’t the nice beer- that would be ordered later at the bar they would inevitably end up at- so it left a lingering dirty after taste, but Logan soaked up the warm feeling of his teammates around him and the adrenaline of the win and let it fill him right up. He felt Percy slap him on the back as he removed the can from his lips.

“Gentlemen!” he yelled, turning to look at Logan with a sly grin. “I think it’s time for our three scorers of the game to get this party started.”

“What the fuck are you planning?” Will asked with narrowed eyes.

“A Harvard hockey tradition,” Percy said. He reached into the cardboard box and pulled out three beers. “Morgs, Hazard, Tremz, sit.”

Logan took a breath in and shook his head amusedly. “Non, no fucking way.”

“Yes way, man, you gotta! You were the king of this!”

Logan sighed and sat between Will and Alex in front of their stalls. Alex leaned over with confused eyes. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered. 

Logan grinned. “We have to open the cans with our skate blades and shotgun them.”

Alex just blinked at him. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. We used to do this back at Harvard.”

“Finn too?”

“Ouais.” Logan laughed at the memories. “He was never very good at it.”

“Nah, he doesn’t like chugging alcohol. Prefers to sip, the pretentious bastard.”

Logan just nudged him playfully. “I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do, you have no chill.” Alex sat up and slapped his thighs. “Alright, Perseus, hit me.”

Percy’s smile was elated and, perhaps, slightly tipsy. “That’s the fucking spirit, bro.” He handed them each their beers. 

“Fuck, haven’t done this in years,” Will said from Logan’s other side. “You remember that time after playing BC? Your rookie season?”

Logan laughed. “Fuck, that was shit beer.”

Will smiled at him. “Yeah, it was. Finn gave up halfway through.” He reached up to ruffle Logan’s waves. “But I remember some rookie leaving us all in the dust.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, rolling his eyes playfully. “I guess I had a reputation.”

“You absolutely fucking did,” Percy interrupted. “Okay, okay, who’s videoing? Who’s got a phone?”

“Ici,” Logan said, reaching behind him into his stall and getting his phone. He held it out to Luke, who’d come over to watch. “Allez, Dev, take it, please.”

Luke sighed. “I forget that you’re a frat boy sometimes.”

“Non, I’m not,” Logan protested, aligning the can underneath his skate blade as Alex and Will did the same. “Not anymore.”

“Habits are hard to break,” Luke teased, laughing at Logan’s scoff. He held up the phone. Saint came to his side to watch, and Logan didn’t miss the way their hips were brushing. “Okay, ready.”

“Gentlemen!” Percy called again. “Are you ready?”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic,” Will said, poised and ready. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“On your marks, get set, go!”

Logan slashed the can with the heel of his blade and scooped it up to his mouth. He could hear the cheers around him, Will, and Alex as they chugged. Alex made some sort of strangled sound from beside him, but Logan ignored it, forcing his throat to open to let the liquid down. He sucked in, one, two, three, four, and when he felt nothing left, he slammed the can onto the ground with a gasp and a pant. “Allez!”

Will let out a laugh as he took one last chug, and Alex coughed as he finished his own beer. “Fucking hell, that’s shit.”

“You still got it, don’t you?” Will said, squeezing his can between his hands to crush it. “Jesus, that’s harder than it was five years ago.”

“How did you do that?” Alex groaned. “Fuck, the hole was too fucking small, and that is really awful beer. Kase and Nat aren’t gonna believe I did this.”

“Practice, mon ami.” Logan slapped him on the back and stood. “Did you get it?” he asked Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke said, handing over Logan’s phone. “Your boys are gonna love that one.”

Logan punched him softly in the arm. “Shut up.”

Luke just winked and turned to go take off his pads. Logan sighed, looking down at his phone. He watched the video once. It felt like a trip- with him, Will and Alex, who look so much like Finn, sitting and chugging beer, Logan could almost pretend he was back at Harvard, reliving the first time he did this in the BC locker room. He remembered he had felt hot and bothered with Finn’s thigh pressed against his and confused by the swirling emotion in his chest. He sighed, a little wistfully, and opened his group chat with Finn and Leo. They’d already sent him texts after his game, ranging from inappropriate to sweet, but always smitten. He bit his lip as his cheeks heated up and sent them the video. Percy made us do it, he typed. I love you. 

He listened to the swoosh sound of the message going through and propped his leg up to take off his skates.

***

Hours later, Logan was pleasantly buzzed and fumbling with his keys to open his apartment door. Behind him, Alex was laughing. “You okay, Tremz?”

“Ouais.” Logan stuck his tongue through his teeth and focused. When he got the key in the lock and turned, he let out a sigh of relief. “Allez, it’s open.”

“Good.” Alex pulled him in for a hug. “Night, bud, say hi to my brother and Leo.”

Logan laughed disbelievingly. “What? How did you…?”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You have two sips of alcohol and you turn into the biggest softie known to man. Go, go call them, they’re probably waiting.”

“Ah, ouais,” Logan said sheepishly. “Let me know when you get home.”

Alex winked. “Will do. Night, Lo.”

Logan felt himself smile at the nickname. “Night, Al.”

He felt a little fuzzy as he went through the motions of getting ready for bed. No sooner had he stepped through his apartment door than he was ripping his shirt off, body hot from the alcohol and the spring evening, and putting on a clean pair of boxers like Leo would have wanted him to do. He smiled at the thought as he put his clothes in the laundry hamper and pulled out his phone to check the time. It was late, around one in the morning, but he had received a text from Leo not thirty minutes prior. The Lions had a few days off, and he knew Finn and Leo had gone out to dinner with Thomas and Cole, so there was a chance they were still awake. He smiled as he opened the message. It was a video of Finn, sitting on the couch in nice black slacks and a thin light purple shirt. His collar was undone and he had obviously been in the middle of undoing his belt when he got distracted by something on his phone. Logan squinted and realized it was the video of him. Logan laughed as Finn replayed once, then twice more. His ears were red. Leo flipped the camera, shaking his head fondly, then winked. “Love you,” he whispered, then the video stopped.

The sigh Logan let out sounded wanting, even to himself, as he rolled over onto his stomach on the bed. He still felt a little out of it from the beer and the four rum and cokes he’d drunk at the bar, so he didn’t even think before pressing the video camera icon just beside Leo’s name. 

When Leo picked up, Logan got a full view of his smile and fluffy curls peeking out of the hood of his maroon sweatshirt. It looked like one of Finn’s from Harvard. He was sitting on the couch, the overhead lights dimmed in the late night. “Hi, sweetheart. Good game.” When Logan didn’t say anything, just smiled at him, he let out a snort and his eyes lit up further. “Oh my God, how much did you have to drink?”

Logan just made a happy sound and hid his face in the pillows. He and Leo just gazed at each other for a moment before there was a voice from off the screen. “Is that Lo?” 

Leo looked up to where Logan presumed Finn was. “Yeah, honey, come say hi.”

Finn suddenly appeared at Leo’s side, his reading glasses shifting as his nose scrunched with his freckled smile. “Hi, baby. Good night?”

Logan nodded. “Ouais. Went to a bar.”

Finn’s eyes flitted over his face. “I know, I can tell. You’ve got sleepy eyes.” He turned his head to press kisses to Leo’s rosy cheeks. 

Logan hated the distance more than anything, but he did love watching them love one another, even if it was through a screen. He lived for these video calls more than he could ever put into words. “Did you like my video?”

Leo nodded, and Finn made an approving sound against his skin. With a last kiss, he pulled away and turned back to look at Logan again. “Like it? Fucking loved it, what a blast from the past. You’re so hot and sexy, Lo, baby.” 

Logan wiggled his hips unconsciously, pleased. He looked at Leo. “Et toi, soleil?”

Leo’s smile made him feel cozy all over. “Of course I loved it, sweetheart. Very impressive.”

“Mm, good.” He yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

Leo made a tisking sound. “I know, honey. Have you brushed your teeth and washed your face?”

Logan hid his face in the pillows. “Non. Not yet.”

“Take us with you, honey, and we’ll talk before bed. It’s late.”

“Mm.” Logan didn’t get up immediately, just folded his arms on top of a pillow and let his phone lean against the headboard. “I miss you,” he sighed. “Wish you were here to snuggle me.”

Leo was still smiling at him, but Logan saw his eyes turn a little sad. He was always trying to be positive and make things better, and Logan loved him for it, but sometimes even that mask slipped a little. Leo probably wouldn’t sleep tonight. Logan wanted to be there to rub his back and kiss his forehead in the moonlight. 

“Us, too, Lo,” Finn said. He pulled Leo’s head to rest onto his shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. It seemed he’d noticed Leo’s eyes dim a little bit, too. Despite the pain, that comforted Logan a bit, and he watched as Finn watched him. “We’ll see you in a few weeks, baby, I promise. Go get ready for bed, we’ll be right here.”

Logan didn’t think he’d ever get used to going through his night routine without someone there to put their hands on his hips or press kisses to his neck. He had suddenly felt cold, and dug around in his closet for the Saints sweatshirt that still smelled like Leo’s cologne. Now, he had his tooth brush hanging out of his mouth and his phone propped against his soap bottle as Leo told him a story about how Finn scared a girl at the bar today.

“...and he just stood there, silent, waiting for her to move so he could use the bathroom. And she was short, like five feet tall, so obviously she got scared shitless when a big man was behind her trying to squeeze by.” Leo smiled delightedly at Finn’s groan. “She spilled her drink all over her white pants.”

Logan laughed as Finn came out of his hiding place that was Leo’s neck. “Oh, mon rouge.”

“I didn’t know what to do, okay? I thought I had enough space to squeeze past!”

Leo tilted his head to meet Finn’s eyes. “Honey, you’re a six foot professional hockey player, you can’t just squeeze through anywhere.” He kissed Finn’s chest and rested his face against it. It squished his cheek and Logan suppressed the urge to reach through the screen and pinch his other one. “Anyways, he bought her and her friends two rounds of drinks, then they really liked him. I had to go rescue our boyfriend again, honey.”

Logan smiled as he washed his face. “Again?” he teased, standing to reach for a towel.

“I can’t help it!” Finn defeatedly slouched forward to press his face into Leo’s neck. “I don’t know why everyone thinks that I’m flirting, I’m just friendly.”

“Yeah, too friendly,” Leo joked.

Finn made a playful sound and bit at Leo’s jaw. “I’m only too friendly with you two, I’ll have you know.” His big brown eyes blinked out tiredly at Logan. “Hi, Lo, baby.”

“Salut.” Logan picked his phone up and walked back to his bedroom, boxing himself in with pillows and snuggling under the sheets. “D’accord, it’s late. You need to go to bed.”

“No,” Finn whined. Logan saw him squeeze Leo tightly, even through his yawn. “No, no, let’s stay up and talk. An all-nighter.”

Logan shook his head, smiling softly. “Non, rouge, I have practice in the morning, then we fly out to Calgary.”

“No,” Finn protested again. His voice was a little tight, and his brow was furrowed. Logan could see Leo biting the inside of his cheek at Finn’s distress. “No, Lo, stay up. Stay up, baby.”

“Rouge.” Logan’s eyes felt a little hot. “Rouge, you have to sleep.”

Finn sighed heavily. “I miss you.” Leo shifted to sit up fully, bringing Finn to rest on his chest now.

“Je sais,” Logan whispered. “Look at me, mon amour.” When Finn did, Logan watched a tear fall down his cheek. Logan thought about what Leo would do if he were far away from them, and he plastered a smile on his face. It felt almost sad, but it was real. He didn’t force his smiles for Finn anymore. “I love you. I miss you, but I love you, too, d’accord? I love you more than I miss you. And that’s what matters, oui?”

“I know.” Finn sniffed. He clutched at the hands Leo had wrapped around his waist. “I know, I love you, too.” 

Logan smiled a little wider now, then looked at Leo’s face. He was smiling, too, a little sadly. He dipped his chin into Finn’s hair. I’ve got him. Don’t worry, sweetheart.

“Allez.” Logan pursed his lips in a kiss. “I love you, mes amours. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“We love you, honey.” Leo kissed the top of Finn’s head, which was lolling back as he obviously struggled to not close his eyes. The purple under his eyes made him look exhausted, but he was still just as gorgeous as the day Logan had met him. Leo, too, with his crystal blue eyes that were gazing at Logan so lovingly it made his breath catch. “Sweet dreams, Lo, we’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you,” Logan said once more before hanging up. The second he shut his phone off, it felt as though warmth had left him. It wasn’t okay, but Logan had learned to sleep in cold sheets. 

He lay awake for a while, a pillow clutched in his arms and curled on his side, when his phone lit up with a text. He reached for it and squinted. Leo again.

When he opened it, it was a photo. Finn and Leo were in bed now, Finn passed out with his cheek against Leo’s chest and his fingers curled around the neckline of Leo’s sweatshirt. Logan could tell he was sleeping heavily in the way he did when he was really exhausted, his mouth open slightly. Logan could almost hear his soft snoring. Leo had slightly dark circles under his eyes, but he was smiling, cheek resting on the top of Finn’s head. He looked so soft and cozy and warm, and Logan wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms. 

We love you, sweetheart, Leo’s text read. Sleep tight.

I love you, I love you, I love you so much, Logan wrote back. Good night.

He went to set his phone back on his nightstand, but paused. He rubbed his thumb over Leo’s smile, over the slope of Finn’s nose, as if he could actually feel them. No, he decided. The nightstand would be too far. So, he clutched his phone to his chest and stared at it, imagining their body heat mixing with his, until he fell asleep. 

And if in the morning, while brushing his teeth, while making breakfast, he spent the whole time staring at his new lock screen- well, he would just say he was a man in love.

[izayoichan]

Rylan: I was almost worried you were lost. -they wink- Tyvan: Nah, just stumbled on someone in the hallway. Rylan: Oh. No more words were needed between the two of them, Rylan taking his drink with him to the small bench where he had his bag, taking a drink before going back to practice, while Tyvan returned to his books. After that encounter, Tyvan meeting Amuary by the treat machine quickly became the norm, and eventually the other dragon started joining Tyvan, Liam and his two friends Logan and Dinah sitting just talking, doing their homework at the rink while Rylan trained. In a way that made Liam happy, as Ams, as Tyvan had taken a liking to calling him, was about his age, and he no longer was the only pre-teen in the mix. Then it was a farewell to their friends and they either headed to the shelter if they knew their help would be needed or just appreciated, and other times they had some extra classes with the other kids of the family with Emil. 

In one evening of the latter, Flynn came home to find all the kids, including Arlo and Fan’s two little ones, who were quite often there as well. He had to admit he really liked that, because it meant he got to see his twin more often. It was most often Fan that came to get them after their visits. Smiling softly just standing in the doorway for a bit, they wondered what all of their future would bring, and in the back of his mind, he hoped it would be less dramatic than what life had been for them, but well, only time would tell.

Beginning - Previous - Next

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

For the writing ask game: 11, 19, and 31 👀

11. Three tropes that are fine but overrated.

Hahaha time to get *bitchy* in here. Let’s see - domestic fluff comes to mind first – I generally find it kind of bland, and oftentimes I feel like characters get stripped of a lot of their personality in domestic fluff narratives.

Not as much a fanfic trope, but I *hate* the “redemption through death” trope. Like. No. You don’t get to die, bitch! All is not forgiven because of a heroic death, and it’s also such a *boring* story when someone just bites it through sudden sacrifice. Let’s see how they actually work to redeem themselves - all the missteps and messiness and hurt, and the ways they can change and the ways they can’t. I wanna see a character grow, not just… dramatically fall on their sword. Redemption as a continual choice, not a one-time action. Redemption as an impossible, Sisyphean task that has to be undertaken anyway.

And… god, as much as it hurts my heart to say this. Enemies to lovers. LOOK. I love me a good enemies to lovers. But it is just *overdone* and watered down. Half the stories with that tag involve “slight disagreement to lovers” or “rivals to lovers” which ain’t the same thing! And there’s so much *discourse* around the term, too. I saw someone passionately argue that it was only good enemies to lovers if they both respected each other the entire time. Which. Nah. Give me that *spice*. Give me some real, earnest hate! Enemies should be a loaded word!

19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.

His fist cracks against Logan’s cheekbone.

Logan’s head snaps to the side. White-hot pain blooms in Ty’s knuckles like he’s punched the side of a tractor full force.

“I told ya, I’m done.”

He’s done for real, he realizes as he says it. Maybe has been for a while. Somewhere along the line it stopped being fun and just started being scary, and he knows he’s only got his dick to blame for not always being able to tell the difference.

Logan works his jaw as he studies him.

“I know,” he says, and for a breathless, relieved instant Ty thinks that’s it, it’s over, but before he can even start feeling chagrined for losing his cool and socking him in the face, Logan scruffs him like a dog and drags him to the bed.

31. What was the most difficult fic for you to write (but in the end you made it)?

Possibly Twice Shy!! I had the general concept for that one rattling around my brain for months, but for the life of me I could not figure out how to actually shape it into a plot. I ended up gaming it out with a friend on the phone for like two hours, and i owe her an enormous debt for helping me straighten it from vibes into something actually resembling a story!!!

[reblog4myficsnotesonly]

• Baby's potty trained Ft Logan •

---

Logan was lounging on the couch, sipping his beer with a vaguely amused expression as he watched Wade attempt to assemble a toy. Vanessa was in the kitchen, humming to herself while prepping snacks. The toddler toddled into the living room, her pigtails bouncing, wearing her favorite frilly dress.

“Hi, Unca Logan!” she chirped, waving at him before grabbing her favorite stuffed bunny.

Logan raised a hand in greeting, smirking. “Hey, kiddo. You causing trouble for your old man?”

“Nah,” Wade piped up from the floor, holding a screwdriver in one hand and a set of instructions in the other. “She’s an angel. A potty-trained angel, I might add.”

Logan gave him a look. “Potty-trained? She’s still in diapers, isn’t she?”

“Oh, no,” Wade said, standing up and gesturing dramatically. “The munchkin has evolved. She’s left her diaper days behind and fully embraced the potty life.”

“Daddy!” the toddler interrupted, holding up a hand. “I gotta go potty!”

Wade instantly dropped the screwdriver and clapped his hands. “That’s my girl! Go do your thing, potty queen.”

To Logan’s utter confusion, the toddler trotted off to the bathroom with all the determination of someone on a mission.

Logan frowned, looking between Wade and Vanessa, who had just entered the room with a tray of snacks. “Did she just... excuse herself?”

Vanessa nodded, sitting down on the couch. “She’s been obsessed with using the potty lately. She’s actually pretty good at it.”

Logan blinked. “She’s like... two.”

“Right?” Wade said, grinning. “She’s a prodigy. I’m expecting her to write a memoir soon.”

Before Logan could respond, the toddler’s little voice called out from the bathroom. “Daddy! I done!”

Wade was already halfway to the bathroom. “Coming, munchkin!”

Logan watched, baffled, as Wade disappeared into the bathroom and returned a minute later with the toddler in tow. She was beaming, clearly proud of herself, and Wade was carrying a small step stool in one hand.

“She uses the stool to reach the sink,” Wade explained, setting it down so she could wash her hands.

“Look, Unca Logan!” the toddler said, turning to him with wet hands after rinsing them. “I big now!”

Logan set down his beer, looking from her to Wade. “You’re telling me she just... decides to use the toilet? No fuss, no tantrums?”

“Pretty much,” Vanessa said, smiling. “She just started insisting on it one day.”

Logan shook his head, thoroughly mystified. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but a two-year-old excusing herself to go potty? That’s new.”

Wade leaned in close, smirking. “She’s not just any two-year-old, Logan. She’s *my* two-year-old. And she’s better than your healing factor because *she* doesn’t leave a mess behind.”

Logan groaned, rubbing his temple. “You’re impossible.”

The toddler climbed onto Logan’s lap, hugging her bunny. “You proud, Unca Logan?”

Logan softened, patting her head awkwardly. “Yeah, kiddo. You’re doing great.”

“See?” Wade said, pointing. “Even Wolverine thinks you’re amazing. You’re unstoppable, munchkin.”

“Unstoppable!” the toddler echoed, giggling as she snuggled into Logan.

Logan sighed, resigned to his fate. “You’re gonna raise the weirdest kid on the planet, Wade.”

“Already there, buddy,” Wade replied with a grin.

---

Would you like to explore more moments of Logan adjusting to her quirks?

[nathaniel-donovan]

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "No, it's fine." The wall colour, that was. He's backtracking almost because he found himself realising that actually he didn't want to deal with Logan going back and forth because she couldn't decide what she liked. That just sounded like a headache waiting to happen. "Yeah I think he'll be alright." Theo at being a dad, knowing that he was trying was better than ignoring the fact that you did have a child. Nate also knew Theo didn't have a choice anyway, knowing that if he slipped up he'd only have Alara to answer to. Which was something that was unsettling in its own right. Accepting the donut being handed over with a small flash of a grin he soon bites into the pastry. "I know he won't it's just the tie.." that he was dating his second cousin's mom, "Might as well move to Alabama and be done with it." He shrugged his shoulder, he knew Theo wouldn't get in the way and Kian was sweet, he had met him a couple of times, but that didn't overthrow the facts. In time? Maybe, who knew. Hearing Logan say she didn't think he had fucked up, eased him a little, knowing that if she turned around and told him he had, he'd have a lot to think about. "Nah, you love it." The over-dramatic response. Cassie's mention caused him to nod a little, "Yeah, she's in a better place now." Clean, anyway. "Wanting to start over, by the sounds of it. I'm gonna try and see her next month," even though Cassie wasn't in town anymore, Nate still wanted to continue to try and build back their relationship, knowing it wasn't just something he wanted, but he felt their mom would have done too. "You should come." He didn't plan on forcing his sister to, he just wanted to offer that out there. "I did give her your number as she asked for it, but I guess she hasn't contacted you yet?" He asks, figuring the answer was no.

"You think it's too dark?" Her tone found a seriousness it had lacked moments before. The decision to keep the color the same almost faded away as she began to second guess herself and the grey she picked out for the walls. Letting out an annoyed sigh she decided to step away for a moment, figuring returning back to the project with fresh eyes might help. "A hundred percent unsettling," Logan called out in agreeance as she went to the back to grab the doughnuts, before making her way back up front. "But, I think he's attempting to be a good dad... Or his version of a good one. I don't know, I haven't really fully grasped that situation yet." It wasn't like Logan didn't think Theo couldn't be a good father - she just never thought he would be in that position. "Well, If you like her a lot," She paused for a moment, before handing over a doughnut to him. "Then you're gonna have to get unstuck about that." Kian being Theo's son. "Because, Kian is the sweetest kid, and I don't think Theo would get in the way of what you have with Alara. You know? I think he's too busy trying to figure out how to tie his own shoes." Tearing off a piece of the pastry and popping it into her mouth as she leaned back against the sales counter. "I don't think you've fucked up... More so that it's like an insane situation that you've kinda stumbled into." Hearing him say bye in such a high-pitched fashion, Logan couldn't help the laugh she broke into. "Please, that was the most over-dramatic thing I've ever heard." The mention of their mother also had another one of their family members cross her mind, and she let out a deep sigh as she contemplated opening that particular can of worms. "Have you heard from Cassie? Like at all?"

[eggbagelz]

This piece stems from three things: the fact that logan's STUPID handboners exist in canon and amuse me to no end, the fact im very bisexual and think these two are neat, and the fact i BADLY want kurt to dramatically dip kiss his guy. His pal. His buddy

[mamaestapa]

I Think Somebody Has A Crush

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: Groupchat with Joe and the guys

•word count: 1.5k

•warnings: Language, jealous Joe, mentions of sex, it’s kind of cringe lol

Series Masterlist

———————————————————

October 26, 2022

chat with: joe😎, ja'marr🔥, logan🏈, sam💪🏻, evan🤩

joe😎- Guys...Im going to go crazy.

logan🏈- Come on Joey B, don't be so dramatic

sam💪🏻- What could possibly make you go crazy?

ja'marr🔥- Burrow don't listen to them, you're already crazy

joe😎- Thanks Ja'Marr, 'preciate it.

ja'marr🔥- You're welcome😍

sam💪🏻- Haha. you guys are hilarious. I cant stop laughing.

sam💪🏻- But seriously Joe, what makes you think you're going to go crazy?

joe😎- Y/n! Y/n is going to make me crazy

logan🏈- Mhm...crazy in love😏

Joe😎- Absolutely not

Logan🏈- Come on now, don't lie

Ja'Marr🔥- Y/n would make me crazy in love, that girl is sexy as hell

Evan🤩- I agree😍

Joe😎- Seriously? Come on guys.

Sam💪🏻- Hey Evan, speaking of Y/n, I saw she posted you on her story a couple weeks back. Care to explain?👀

Evan🤩- Y/n and I have been talking a bit. We've gone to the gym together a few times, worked out.

Ja'Marr🔥- "Worked out" yeah that's code for 

doin' it, E😏

Logan 🏈-lmao

Evan🤩-  Shut up, Ja'Marr. We haven't done anything...yet

Sam💪🏻- Ohhh, so you plan on doing it with her at some point?

Evan🤩- I cannot confirm nor deny that statement. If it happens, it happens. I'm just happy talking to her for now

Logan🏈- Atta boy, McPherson!😉

Ja'Marr🔥- Money Mac with the rizz😩

Sam💪🏻- Oh

Logan🏈- Yikes

Ja'Marr🔥- ?

Evan🤩- Please never say that again.

Ja'Marr🔥- What?

Sam💪🏻- Rizz. It makes you sound like a pre-pubescent middle schooler

Evan🤩-😂😂

Logan🏈- It really does😂

Ja'Marr🔥-Whatever. Y'all are just mad that you don't have any

Ja'Marr🔥 changed Evan🤩 to The Rizzler🥶

Sam💪🏻- Oh jesus christ🤦‍♂️

Logan🏈-😂😂😂

The Rizzler🥶- Ja'Marr, come on man change it back!

Ja'Marr🔥- Nah, this shit funny af💀

The Rizzler🥶-If you don't change it back, I'll tell Y/n about that dream you had.

Logan🏈- Do tell

Ja'Marr🔥- You swore you wouldn't tell a soul

The Rizzler🥶- Change my name back and I'll keep that promise, don't change it and I'll tell this whole group chat that you had a boner the size of-

Ja'Marr🔥- OKAY OKAY

Ja'Marr changed The Rizzler🥶 to Evan🤩

Evan🤩- Thank you.

Sam💪🏻-Part of me wants to hear the dream, but part of me doesn't😂

Logan🏈- You and me both😂 Hey Joe, I know you're reading these texts man, why've you been so silent?

Joe😎- Oh, I don't know, maybe it's because I don't want to hear about my teammates getting boners over my roommate

Sam💪🏻- Joe...

Joe😎- What? I just don't want to hear about Evan and Y/n fucking or about Ja'Marr having the hots for her. I already hear from her enough I don't need you guys talking about her too

Logan🏈- Hmm...it sounds to me like Burrows jealous

Joe😎-HA you're hilarious.

Sam💪🏻- Don't deny it dude, you so are. You've ignored all texts about Y/n AND your jaw clenches every time McPherson mentions her name at practice. I haven't seen you act like this since that Brayden guy tried asking Olivia out at Nicks party.

Joe😎-I'm not jealous, okay?

Logan🏈 Denial is the first stage, my friend👀

Joe😎- You guys are such idiots, I'm not JEALOUS. Evan, if you want to ask out Y/n go right ahead.

Evan🤩- Thanks...I'll think about it

Ja'Marr🔥-Oh come on man, you are totally jealous

Joe😎- Can we change the subject?

Ja'Marr🔥- ✨Jealous✨

Logan🏈- Ja'Marr wtf?🤦‍♂️😂

Ja'Marr🔥- Just callin' it like I see it

Evan🤩- Come on guys, just leave him alone. He says he's not jealous, so he's not jealous

Sam💪🏻- You don't know him as well as Ja'Marr and I do...he's totally jealous. He just hates to admit it

Logan🏈- Joe, we'll stop talking about your jealousy if you tell us why Y/n is going to make you crazy

Joe😎- Back on the topic of Y/n once again🙄

Sam💪🏻-You're the one that brought her up in the first place! You said she's going to make you go crazy. So tell us, why is she going to make you go crazy?

Joe😎- First of all, she leaves her shit all over the place. Like her makeup out on the bathroom counter, her clothes in MY laundry, her candles all over the apartment, it's just annoying.

Logan🏈- Mhm...

Joe😎- And she leaves her, how do I put this, woman items under MY side of the sink!

Ja'Marr🔥- Wait. So you're tellin me that little cup thing I found isn't a rubber shot glass?

Sam💪🏻-Oh dear god

Joe😎- Nope. That little cup thing is called a Diva Cup, Ja'Marr

Logan🏈- Yeah it's not a shot glass😂 girls shove it up their va- you know nevermind. You get what I'm trying to say.

Ja'Marr🔥- I TOUCHED THAT THING

Evan🤩- No one told you to touch it💀

Ja'Marr🔥- I don't even know what to say.

Sam💪🏻-😭That's a first

Logan🏈-😂 What else does she do Joe?

Joe😎- She's always at the apartment and I have needs. I can't just bring dates over to the place when she's home. I've tried to hook up with a girl and twice now, TWICE Y/n has walked in on us and ruined the moment

Evan🤩- She told me about that

Joe😎-Great.

Sam💪🏻-But that's not her fault, you're the one that decides to do it on your couch

Logan🏈- And not tell them you have a roommate that's a girl

Evan🤩-A very pretty one at that

Joe😎- I guess you guys are right. She just gets so annoying to live with sometimes. I just wish she wasn't my roommate. If she wasn't my roommate maybe, you know what, nevermind.

Sam💪🏻-What do you mean?

Joe😎- Shes a really sweet girl. And fuck, she's gorgeous too.

Ja'Marr🔥-👀👀

Joe😎- We got off to a rough start and I just wish things could have been different

Logan🏈-Joe…

Joe😎-What do I do to fix this?

Sam💪🏻- Joe, man, I think you might have a crush

Joe😎-Oh come on, I do not.

Ja'Marr🔥- Come on Joey B, quit denying this shit

Loagn🏈-Just admit it, you're jealous and you like Y/n. It’s not a big deal dude

Evan🤩-Yeah. Joe, I don't want to get in your way man. Just say the word and she's all yours

Joe😎-Okay FINE. Maybe I do have feelings for Y/n and maybe I am a little jealous, but I'll get over it. She obviously really likes you Evan and I don't want to get in the way of that

Evan🤩-Are you sure?

Joe😎-Yeah, I want you both to be happy. Plus, I barely even know her. You know her better than I do, shooter😂

Logan🏈- Then get to know her Joe. You see her every day and you live with her, it wouldn't hurt to get to know her.

Sam💪🏻-He's right. Who knows, maybe you two will get along if you ACTUALLY get to know her

Joe😎- I guess you're right

Ja'Marr🔥-There ain't no guessin, they ARE right

Logan🏈-Thanks Ja'Marr😚

Ja'Marr🔥-❤️

Evan🤩- So Joe...you're sure you're fine with Y/n and I?

Joe😎-Yeah, go get her shooter.

Joes pov:

I felt my heart drop as I hit send. I shut my phone off and set it down next to me on the couch. I sighed deeply and put my head in my hands. I've never felt these feelings before—about anyone.

The guys are right, I am jealous. I'm jealous that Evan gets to be the one to talk to Y/n all the time. I'm jealous that he's the one that gets to know her in ways that I wish I could.

But this does NOT, and I repeat, does NOT mean that I have a crush on her.

I just think that Y/n is a beautiful girl with a great personality.

But I don't have a crush on her.

I'm just jealous of the other guys. She's willing to get to know my teammates and not me. I did this to myself though. If things could have gone better at the start, maybe the situation with Y/n would be much different.

Logan is right though, I just need to get to know Y/n . Somehow I need to get to know the girl I've been living with for a month now. I have no clue what to do or how I'll do it, but one thing is for sure.

Y/n and I will be on better terms soon. We have to be, right?

hey loves!!

i haven't written a chat in forever, so i apologize if it's not good. i had a lot of fun writing it though, haha!

we're slowly starting to get into the GOOD good parts of this book. joe is starting to realize that maybe you aren’t just a roommate to him after all...

i already have the next chapter written (it's one of my favorites that i've written so far and i think that you will all enjoy it very much!) but i'm going to wait to post it until this one has been up for a couple days!

anyways, i hope you are all doing well! i appreciate all of the love and support you have shown on this story. it means so much to me!!🤍

tags:

@jackharloww @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover

[twinge-of-cosmicangst]

The Roy Family but as songs by The Smiths

Morrissey would hate this. All the more reason to do it.

Connor- How soon is now? from hatful of hollow

Bit angsty for Connor but it’s the Smiths so? At first this was a pick for Kendall, then when I found a better one for Kendall I listened again to see if it would fit for Shiv, but when listening to it I thought nah, it’s Connor.

I am the son and heir of nothing in particular. I AM THE THE ELDEST SON! lol, this line works for him because he is the eldest son of a very powerful man but it literally doesn’t matter he is still deemed irrelevant by his whole family.

I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does. A very relevant line for Connor, out of all his family he is the one who shows the most affection but rarely ever receives any in return.

Kendall- Still Ill from The Smiths

Yeah this one is pretty depressing, obviously. That joke isn’t funny anymore and I started something I couldn’t finish also work for him. Kendall is extremely Smiths coded.

Roman- Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me from Strangeways, here we come

Sorry.

Cheeky bonus for Roman: The boy with the thorn in his side

Shiv- I know it’s over from The Queen is dead

Ugh Shiv I love you but you are not Smiths coded, that or I just don’t understand Shiv enough brb bout to rewatch Succ for the third time. This song is what I got the most Shiv vibes from after skimming through their entire discography.

I know it’s over, refers to the end of a relationship, I think?? Can you ever be sure with the Smiths? it could be about the death of Morrissey’s pet parrot or something. But for Shiv I’m interpreting that it’s her career at Waystar as well as her parents approval that’s over, I know it’s over, and it never really began, but in my heart it was so real “Is this for real?” When Logan told her he wanted her to be his successor.

But of course, it can, as well, relate to her relationship with Tom, Sad veiled bride, please be happy

Tom- What difference does it make? from The Smiths

My basic ass was actually going to pick, There is light that never goes out, for this bitch, which could of been interpreted with either Tomgreg or Tomshiv whichever tickles your pickle, cause Tommy gives major I would die for you but it’ll be better to die with you vibes, with both of them. Although it works slightly better with Tomgreg because, Oh please don’t drop me home, because its not my home, it’s their home and I’m welcome no more, could reference how he, like Greg, has never truly been a Roy, and how Tom certainly isn’t welcome among the siblings anymore after what he did in 3x9.

Enough about the song I didn’t choose for him and on to the one I did, for while I was searching for a song for Shiv I stumbled across What difference does it make? Which fits Tom so well. Again it can be related to Tom in regards to both Tomshiv and Tomgreg, the song could be interpreted for him in that he would do an awful lot and sacrifice an awful lot for both of them, even though they probably wouldn’t do the same for him, which makes him bitter and unpleasant towards them, yet he still loves them.

Heavy words are so lightly thrown “Because you love me, even though I don’t love you” But still I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you. This song was made for Tom’s over dramatic ass.

Oh the devil will find work for idle hands to do “Do you want to make a deal with the devil?”

Greg- Half a person from Louder than bombs

This song is apparently a bit of an obscure one, which I wasn’t aware of because I am far from a die hard fan but I’ve known this particular song for quite a while, whereas there are others on this list that I’d never heard of or listened to before. Anyway Half a person is extremely Greg coded but it’s rather hard to explain why, you just have to listen to it, you should anyway as it’s a great song and apparently relatively unknown.

Logan- Barbarianism begins at home from Meat is murder

This song relates to Logan because of the abuse his uncle inflicted on him a Ewan and the abuse he then inflicted on his own children in turn.

A bonus: Unhappy Birthday. This is not really a song for Logan but more of a song to Logan from his kids, but especially from Kendall “Pass me the fucking shotgun” Roy.