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vampiilure · 1 day ago

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Tuesday

Summary: you accidentally grab at the same book as another, turns out it's the reason why you look forward to every tuesday. You and Spencer, after meeting, enjoy each other's space in the little bookstore, it escalates to him asking you out to dinner.

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, slow burn, a tiny trauma dump from spencer

WC: 2219

an: I'm working on part 3 of the black butler one, but I'm currently in between moving so Idk when I can post it! :(

The first time it happens, it's raining, light, misty rain, the kind that's more whisper than weather. The air smells faintly of damp pavement, crushed leaves, and the orange peel you tucked into your coat pocket on the walk over. You duck into the little bookstore nestled between a florist and a vintage clothing shop, your usual Tuesday sanctuary, and shake the rain from your sleeves as the door swings closed behind you with a soft, familiar chime. The sound feels like punctuation, a gentle full stop at the end of whatever outside noise you've left behind.

Inside, the bookstore hums in its quiet way, old jazz murmurs from a corner speaker, blending into the rustle of pages and the soft scuff of someone moving between stacks. The place is warm with the scent of old paper and wood polish, with something slightly citrusy you've never quite been able to identify. You follow the creaky wooden floorboards instinctively, stepping around a table stacked with faded Penguin Classics, past the fiction aisle, and into the back corner, where Psychology lives, tucked between political theory and poetry like some strange venn diagram of the human condition.

You reach for the book without thinking, Cognitive Development and Psychopathology. It's dense, unflinchingly clinical in parts, but you’ve been circling it for weeks. There's something in the way it weaves together early development, trauma theory, and behavior patterns that fascinates you, how it reads more like the anatomy of memory than an academic text.

And then, as your fingers touch the spine, another hand reaches for it at the exact same moment.

The contact is brief- cool fingertips brushing yours- but it's enough to make you glance up.

He's taller than you, but somehow he manages to take up less space than he should, like he's trying to shrink himself to fit the bookstores hush. His hair curls slightly from the humidity, soft and unbrushed in a way that suggests he might have run here through the rain without an umbrella. He wears a navy cardigan over a mismatched shirt and tie, the pattern of the tie slightly crooked. He looks surprised, blinking at you with warm, honey-colored eyes behind wire-framed glasses.

He pulls his hand back immediately.

“I-sorry. You go ahead,” he says, his voice low but clipped, as though he's used to recalibrating mid sentence. “I've read it before. Several times, actually. Though I find I never quite retain the same interpretation twice.”

You pause, glancing down at the book again and then back at him. “Sounds like memory reconsolidation.”

That makes his eyebrows lift, sharply, delightedly, as if you've just said the exact right thing on accident.

“Exactly. Yes. that's actually-well, it's the core of the problem, isn't it? That every time we retrieve a memory, we alter it. It's not like a file you open and close. It's more like…like clay. Always being reshaped. Dr. Vass even argues that therapy, at its best, is just carefully controlled memory destabilization. But of course, her sample sizes were too small and skewed toward outpatient populations, so..”

He trails off, blinking again. Then he lets out a breath and offers a shy, crooked smile. “Sorry. I ramble.”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. “It's refreshing.”

He glances at you as if he's trying to determine whether you mean it. Then his smile deepens, just slightly.

“You have good taste,” he says.

“Likewise,” you reply, this time, he actually lets out a quiet laugh, something barely audible but genuine.

He offers you his hand, like the thought just occurred to him. “Spencer Reid.”

You shake it, noticing the precision in his grip, the careful way he measures touch like he's learned to be cautious with his presence in the world. You give him your name in return, and he repeats it softly, almost to himself, committing it to memory.

Something shifts then, something subtle. Like two books leaning gently into each other on a shelf, no longer strangers.

You think that will be it. But the next Tuesday, he's there.

You spot him first, seated in the philosophy aisle, one leg curled under the other on the faded armchair near the back. He's reading again, The Denial of Death by Becker, but looks up the moment you enter, as if he's been listening for the sound of your step.

“Hi.” he says, the word a little breathless, like he didn't realize he'd been holding any until just now.

That day, you talk about Carl Jung. The week after, it's Virginia Woolf. Once, your conversation spirals from Plato to neurolinguistics to the way children invent private languages and how that might intersect with trauma encoding. He speaks in long sentences, hands moving in rhythm with his thoughts, building out entire structures of ideas in the air like he's mapping galaxies. You never feel lost, though. He pulls you into the orbit of his mind with ease, always pausing to check if youre still with him, always listening as intently as he speaks.

He starts bringing you books, ones he thinks you'll like, secondhand copies with his thoughts scribbled in the margins. You bring pastries from the cafe down the block. On rainy weeks, he brings tea. It becomes a ritual. You become ritual.

Sometimes you sit in silence, reading side by side. Other times, the words don't stop until the shop closes and the clerk politely flicked the lights. The world outside shrinks into irrelevance when he's across from you, head tilted, brow furrowed in thought.

You learn how he cracks his knuckles when he's nervous. How he won't interrupt, but his eyes light up when he's holding back a thought. How he listens, really listens, with the kind of reverence that makes you feel like what you say matters, like it's being gently stored away somewhere sacred.

He tells you things you know he doesn't tell most people. That he's been called a genius, but he doesn't always feel like one. That he used to hate silence, but lately, he's been learning how to sit with it. That he never had a favorite place in D.C, not really, too transient, too loud, but this bookstore, he says one day, without looking up from his book, “feels like breathing again.”

You don't answer. You just smile and turn the page.

Five months after that first accidental brush of fingertips, he gives you a book.

He doesn't say anything. Just place’s it on the table between you. A worn copy of Letters to a Young Poet, soft-edged and underlined. You open it without thinking, and a folded piece of paper falls out.

Your name is written on the front in careful, narrow handwriting.

Inside the note reads:

I've found a rhythm in these Tuesdays.

A stillness I didn't know I needed.

I used to believe connection was accidental.

Or infrequent.

But then I met you. And it didn't feel

Accidental at all.

I was wondering,

Would you like to have dinner with me?

No pressure.

Just one more conversation.

-Spencer

You sit back slowly, heart thudding in your chest, the soft sound of pages turning somewhere in the store now impossibly loud. When you look up, he's not pretending to read. He's watching you, quietly, hands folded in his lap, eyes full of uncertainty that doesn't match the brilliance of his mind.

You smile, small, certain, and hold up the note.

He straightens, blinking once.

“I'd love to,” you say.

The smile that breaks across his face isn't perfect. It's not suave or practiced or cinematic.

It's real.

And just like that, the story turns another page.

The dinner is set for the following friday. He chooses a quiet, tucked away place, of course he does, a little family-owned bistro with books stacked on its windowsills and flickering tea lights on each table. He texts you the address precisely, three days in advance, and follows up on Thursday to confirm with a slightly self conscious, “Still okay for tomorrow?”

You reply yes, and he sends a single reply back: looking forward to it. Very much.

The phrase plays on a loop in your head as you dress.

You arrive first. The table is already reserved, near the back, half-shielded by a tall shelf of antique hardcovers. You glance around at the soft lighting, the quiet music playing in the background. It doesn't surprise you that Spencer found this place. It feels like him: thoughtful, hidden in plain sight, full of depth and charm you only see when you slow down.

When he walks in, you spot him immediately.

There's something about the way he carries himself tonight, more upright than usual, but still with that signature nervous energy he never quite masks. He's wearing a dark sweater and blazer, and his hair is a little more carefully styled than usual, though it still curls loosely around his ears. His eyes land on you, and the second they do, his shoulders drop just a little, like he's been holding something in and finally remembers how to breathe.

“Hi,” he says, pulling out your chair for you, and then his own. “Im...Im really glad you came.”

“So am i,” you answer, and his lips tug into a smile that takes its time spreading, like it's blooming rather than appearing.

The conversation is easy. Of course it is. You talk about books at first, he asks if you've started The Body Keeps the Score, and when you say yes, he leans in, visibly excited, launching into a soft but passionate explanation of how somatic trauma therapy has reshaped the way we understand memory storage. He stops himself three times mid-ramble, apologizing with flushed cheeks and glancing down at his hands. You touch his wrist gently once, just to steady him. “I like listening to you,” you say, and he glances up at you like that's something he doesn't hear very often but wishes he did.

Over pasta and shared wine, the conversation deepens.

He tells you about his mom. He doesn't launch into it the way he does with literature or statistics, it's slower, careful, like unwrapping something delicate. He talks about her schizophrenia, about the sharpness of her mind before the illness settled in, about how he used to read her poetry and scientific papers out loud just to keep her anchored. You don't interrupt. You just let the quiet stretch when it needs to, holding space for the weight he's always carried.

“I used to think I had to fix everything,” he says, voice low. “That if I just knew enough- read enough, understand enough- i could make it all go away. But some things aren't puzzles. They Are…ongoing.” he pauses, then looks at you. “You make it feel okay to have some of those pieces still unresolved.”

You say his name then, softly, and his gaze flickers to yours with something unguarded, something that's not just gratitude but recognition. Like he sees something in you he didn't expect to find, but can't quite let go of now that he has.

You talk for hours, until your plates are cleared, until the wineglass between you is empty, until the candle burns low and the lights dim just a little more.

Outside, the air is cool and still. The rain has passed, leaving behind the shimmer of wet pavement and reflections in puddles. He walks you to your car without speaking at first, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. You match his pace naturally.

“I…don't really do this,” he says suddenly, stopping just before you reach your door. “Not just the dating thing. But the part where i…care this quickly.”

You feel something shift again, like the pause before a page turn.

“I haven't either,” you say. “But I do.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, the world shrinks to the narrow space between you. He doesn't lean in. He doesn't rush. He just looks at you, and it feels like a long-held breath finally being released.

“I'd like to see you again,” he says. “Outside the bookstore. Not that I don't love the bookstore- I do. But I'd like to know what your laugh sounds like in other places. What you look like in the morning light. What you think about on a Sunday when no one’s asking you questions.”

The words are so Spencer- half poetic, half exact, more honest than most people are allowed to be.

“I'd like that too.” you say.

And then he smiles, and it's the real one, the one that starts in his eyes and unfolds all the way through him, like he's not sure what's happening, only that it feels like something he doesn't want to stop.

He brushes your hand with his before he leaves. Just barely. But it's enough.

Enough to know this is only the beginning.

Enough to know the next chapter is already writing itself in quiet, deliberate ink.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #fluff #vampiilure

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mcrdvcks · 17 hours ago

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i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ one of me is cute, but two, though? pt.2

chapter summary: Now that you are finally pregnant, you and Logan embark on the 9 month journey.

word count: 13k+ (23.9k+ total)

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

this spans 9 months of reader's pregnancy. i didn't write every single week; i tried to hit the main milestones. i researched every stage of pregnancy, so if anything's wrong... idk man, i'm 20, i'm not gonna get pregnant just for a fic

also apparently 24k words is too much for tumblr, so this is split in 2 parts - this is the second part.

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, a few mentions of puking, protective!logan, protective!laura, hormones, pregnancy, giving birth

series masterlist - chapter 15.0 → chapter 16

Week 21

You were wide awake, staring at the faint outlines of the furniture in your room. The soft, rhythmic sound of Logan’s breathing behind you was the only thing keeping you tethered to some semblance of calm. His arm was draped over your waist, his palm resting protectively against your belly, but none of it could distract you from the endless little flutters and jabs that your baby was delivering like a determined acrobat.

It wasn’t Logan’s warmth that was keeping you awake this time, and it wasn’t the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. No, it was the baby, moving as if it had discovered the concept of nighttime gymnastics.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake Logan, but his grip on you tightened instinctively.

“Darlin’, you okay?” His voice was thick with sleep, the usual roughness softened by drowsiness.

You sighed, feeling both guilty and a little relieved that he was awake. “I’m fine. The baby’s just… active tonight.”

Logan’s hand slid lower, his palm flattening against your belly. He was quiet for a moment, waiting to feel it. When a solid thump met his hand, he huffed a soft laugh. “Guess they take after me, huh? Can’t sit still for too long.”

You laughed quietly, resting your hand over his. “Maybe. Or maybe they’re just excited to meet you.”

His lips brushed the back of your neck in a featherlight kiss. “Think they already know how lucky they are to have you.”

“Logan…” You trailed off, feeling a lump form in your throat. You weren’t usually this emotional, but pregnancy had made everything hit a little harder. “We’re lucky. All three of us.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his thumb stroked slow, soothing circles over your belly said enough.

After a few minutes of silence, Logan spoke again. “You wanna sit up for a bit? Maybe move around?”

You shook your head. “No, I just… I wanted to lay here. I like when you’re holding me.”

“Good,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “’Cause I like holdin’ you.”

Another kick came, this one stronger than the last. You winced slightly, and Logan’s hand shifted, pressing just enough to calm the movement.

“Easy there, kid,” he murmured, his tone both amused and gentle. “Give your ma a break, huh?”

“Do you think they can hear us yet?” you asked, your voice soft.

Logan’s hand stayed steady on your belly. “Jean said it’s possible, right? Maybe they’re just listenin’. Gettin’ to know our voices.”

You smiled at the thought. “They’re going to know yours for sure. You talk to them every day.”

“Damn right I do,” Logan said, a hint of pride in his tone. “They gotta know who’s got their back.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of his face in the dim light. His expression was softer than usual, the hard edges smoothed out by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“Logan,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “Thank you. For… for this. For everything.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he shook his head. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. This… you, this baby… this is all I’ve ever wanted. You gave me somethin’ I didn’t think I’d ever have.”

Your throat tightened again, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, his voice low and steady.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The baby eventually settled, the movements growing softer and less frequent. Logan’s breathing evened out again, but his hand never moved from your belly.

---

Week 22

While out shopping for compression socks, Laura’s sharp eyes caught sight of a display filled with colorful Halloween costumes. She tugged on Logan’s hand insistently, her tiny fingers curling around his as she pointed toward the aisle.

“Can we look over there?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with curiosity.

Logan frowned, his free hand resting on the small of your back as he glanced over at the costumes. “Halloween? Thought you weren’t interested in all that stuff.”

Laura shrugged but didn’t let go of his hand. “Jubilee said you wear costumes and get candy. It sounds... fun.”

“Sounds like a racket,” Logan muttered, but you elbowed him lightly, shooting him a look.

“Logan,” you said gently, adjusting your glasses. “It’s her first Halloween. Let her explore a bit.”

Laura’s eyes darted between the two of you. “We don’t have to buy anything,” she added quickly, as if unsure whether she was asking for too much. “I just want to look.”

You smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “We can look, and if you find something you really like, maybe we’ll get it.”

Logan sighed, muttering something about being dragged into the ‘circus,’ but let Laura lead the way. As you followed, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The Halloween aisle was an explosion of colors, textures, and themes. Costumes ranged from classic witches and skeletons to superheroes, princesses, and everything in between. Laura’s eyes widened as she took it all in, her small hand still clutching Logan’s.

“Look at this one!” she said, pointing at a sparkly vampire costume. Then her attention shifted to a plush pumpkin outfit, and then to a set of plastic swords meant for a pirate costume. She was clearly overwhelmed but fascinated.

“What about you?” you asked her, crouching slightly to meet her eye level. “Do you want to dress up as something scary? Or something fun?”

Laura tilted her head, her brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t know. What are you going to be?”

You chuckled, resting a hand on your growing belly. “Well, considering I’m halfway to looking like a pumpkin already, I could go as one of those.”

Laura’s lips twitched into a small smile before her attention shifted to Logan. “What about him?”

Logan scoffed. “Pass.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “You’d make an excellent lumberjack or cowboy.”

“I’m not puttin’ on some ridiculous—” Logan stopped mid-sentence, his gaze landing on a rack of superhero costumes. He scowled at a Captain America suit and then an Iron Man one. “Now this is just insultin’.”

You laughed, covering your mouth. “Yeah, because you’ve definitely got a vendetta against guys in spandex.”

Laura, meanwhile, was inspecting a wolf costume with a hood and fuzzy ears. She held it up and glanced at Logan, then at you. “What if we all dressed up together? Like… matching.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Matching?”

“Yes.” Laura’s tone was patient, as if explaining something obvious. “Like a group. You, me, and Y/N.”

The idea warmed you instantly, and you exchanged a glance with Logan. “That could be fun,” you said, trying to sound casual but letting your enthusiasm shine through. “What do you think, Logan?”

He grunted, crossing his arms. “I think this whole thing’s a scam to sell overpriced crap.”

“Logan,” you said, your tone soft but firm, “it’s not about the costumes. It’s about making memories. Especially for her.”

His expression softened just a fraction as he glanced at Laura, who was now holding the wolf costume close to her chest, her eyes hopeful. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. But nothin’ too ridiculous.”

You grinned, your heart swelling as you gave Laura a thumbs-up. “Okay, let’s pick something we can all wear.”

After much deliberation—and a fair amount of grumbling from Logan—the three of you settled on a theme: Little Red Riding Hood. Laura would be the wolf, her tiny fangs and furry hood making her look more adorable than menacing. You, with your growing belly, would don a flowing red cloak, playing the part of Red Riding Hood. And Logan, reluctantly but resigned to his fate, would be the woodsman, complete with a fake axe that Laura insisted on carrying for him.

“Happy now?” he asked as the three of you left the store, bags in hand.

“Very,” you said, leaning into his side as you walked. “You’re going to look great.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the faint smirk on his face told you he didn’t mind as much as he let on.

Laura skipped ahead, clutching her costume bag tightly. For the first time since you’d met her, she looked truly carefree. And that made every moment worth it.

---

On Halloween night, almost everyone in the mansion was dressed up. The young kids had buckets ready for candy, and Ororo, Jean, and Scott were on candy duty in the foyer, handing out sweets to excited students. The air was filled with laughter, rustling costumes, and the smell of pumpkin-scented candles that someone—probably Jubilee—had insisted on lighting.

You stood near the staircase, adjusting the clasp of your red cloak as Logan helped Laura straighten her wolf hood. The little girl fidgeted, her small hands batting at the faux fur around her face.

“Hold still, kid,” Logan muttered, gently tugging the hood back into place. “If you’re gonna be a wolf, you gotta look the part.”

Laura scrunched her nose. “I don’t think real wolves wear hoods.”

You smirked, leaning on the banister. “Maybe not, but I think you’re the cutest wolf I’ve ever seen.”

Laura’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she quickly masked her embarrassment with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Logan turned to you next, his eyes trailing over your red cloak and the faint curve of your belly beneath it. “You ready for this?”

“Trick-or-treating around the mansion? I think I can handle it,” you teased, adjusting your glasses. “Besides, I’m curious to see how creative the students got with their costumes this year.”

Logan raised a brow, his plastic axe slung over one shoulder. “If I see another Iron Man, I’m out.”

“Deal,” you said with a laugh, looping your arm through his.

Laura grabbed her bucket and looked between the two of you expectantly. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re comin’,” Logan said, his voice softening as he ruffled her hair.

The three of you made your way through the mansion, stopping at various doors where students and staff had set up candy stations. Laura hesitated at first, unsure of how the whole “trick-or-treat” routine worked, but after watching a few other kids excitedly shout, “trick or treat!” she seemed to catch on.

At one door, Jubilee opened it wearing a bright yellow jacket and sunglasses, holding out a bowl of candy with a dramatic flourish. “Well, if it isn’t Little Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf, and… uh…” She squinted at Logan’s flannel shirt and plastic axe. “Paul Bunyan?”

“Funny,” Logan said dryly, snatching a piece of candy from the bowl.

You laughed, nudging his side. “He��s the woodsman. You know, the one who saves the day?”

“Uh-huh,” Jubilee said, smirking. “Real hero vibes.”

“C’mon,” Logan grumbled, steering Laura toward the next door.

By the time you’d made it halfway through the mansion, Laura’s bucket was nearly full, and her once-timid demeanor had given way to excitement. She tugged on your cloak as you passed through a hallway lined with jack-o’-lanterns.

“Are we going to do this every year?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“If you want to,” you said, smiling down at her. “It can be our tradition.”

Laura nodded, her eyes lighting up. “I think I’d like that.”

Logan, walking on your other side, glanced at you with a look that was hard to describe—something between contentment and awe. His hand brushed against yours as you walked, and when you looked up at him, he gave you a small, soft smile.

Later that night, after the candy was sorted and the kids were winding down, you found yourself sitting on the couch in the living room. Laura was curled up beside you, still wearing her wolf hood as she picked through her candy stash. Logan sat on your other side, his arm draped over the back of the couch.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you said, leaning into his touch. “I think tonight went pretty well.”

He hummed in agreement, his gaze drifting to Laura, who was now carefully unwrapping a piece of chocolate. “She seems happy.”

“She does,” you said, your voice soft. “And I think she needed this. Something normal. Fun.”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. “Yeah. She deserves it.”

For a moment, the three of you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of laughter and conversation from the other kids echoing faintly down the hall. You rested a hand on your belly, feeling a faint flutter that made your heart swell.

Logan noticed the movement and covered your hand with his, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “How’s our little one doin’?”

“Pretty active,” you said with a small laugh. “I think they’re already a fan of chocolate.”

“Can’t blame ’em,” he said, his voice softening.

Laura looked up then, her sharp eyes flicking between the two of you. “What’s it going to be like when the baby’s here?”

You exchanged a glance with Logan before answering. “It’ll be different,” you said honestly. “But in a good way. You’ll have a little brother or sister to play with.”

Logan squeezed your hand, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment before shifting back to Laura. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you to bed. You can finish that candy tomorrow.”

Laura groaned but didn’t argue, allowing Logan to scoop her up and carry her toward the stairs. You followed, watching the way she leaned her head against his shoulder, her trust in him evident.

---

Week 26

After hearing that the baby could hear you more clearly now, Logan and Laura were arguing over what type of music they should play for the baby.

Logan insisted on classic rock, and as Laura put it, “old people music.” She wanted to play more recent things, particularly songs that Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty showed her.

“If I have to hear one more damn pop song—”

Laura stuck her tongue out at Logan as the small speaker played on the coffee table. “You’ll get over it.” She said in Spanish.

“Kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.” Logan reached for the speaker, but Laura grabbed it before he touched it.

“Maybe you should learn it.” She said, as the song ‘Call It What You Want’ finished and another pop song played.

Logan reached for the speaker again, but Laura darted to the other side of the couch, holding it above her head like a trophy.

“Gimme the speaker, it’s my turn,” Logan grumbled, his brows knitting together in mock irritation.

“Why? So you can play more music that sounds like it’s from the dinosaur age?” Laura teased, sticking her tongue out at him. “No way.”

You chuckled from your seat nearby, adjusting your glasses as you flipped through a parenting book Jean had loaned you. “She’s not wrong, Logan. It’s been nothing but Zeppelin and The Stones all week.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Logan shot back, turning to you with exaggerated indignation. “Better than whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely at the speaker as the chorus of a pop song boomed from it.

Laura smirked, clearly enjoying her win. “This is real music,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Logan scoffed, crossing his arms. “Real music doesn’t sound like a robot tryin’ to sing through a blender.”

“Neither does a bunch of old guys yelling about stairways to heaven,” Laura quipped, her sharp little voice cutting through the air like a blade.

You stifled a laugh behind your hand, knowing better than to step in just yet.

“You know,” Logan said, narrowing his eyes at her, “I could just take the damn thing from you.”

“You could try,” Laura replied, her tone daring, even as she clutched the speaker tighter.

“Alright, alright,” you said, finally stepping in. “How about a compromise?”

Both Logan and Laura turned to you, their expressions equally skeptical.

“Compromise?” Logan muttered, like the word tasted sour in his mouth.

“Yes,” you said with a patient smile, setting your book down. “I choose the music. Now gimme.” You extended your hand toward Laura, who hesitated, clutching the speaker tightly to her chest.

“Are you just gonna play more boring stuff?” she asked skeptically, glancing between you and Logan.

“Boring?” Logan snorted. “She can’t do worse than this racket.”

You arched a brow at him. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You might both hate my choice.”

Logan groaned, leaning back against the couch. “Darlin’, if it’s worse than this pop junk, I’m takin’ the speaker outside and buryin’ it.”

Laura gasped dramatically, her arms wrapping protectively around the small speaker. “You wouldn’t!”

He smirked at her. “Try me, kid.”

“Alright, alright, enough,” you interrupted, holding your hand out again. “I promise I won’t break it, but I’m making the call.”

Laura hesitated but eventually handed over the speaker, her small fingers brushing yours as she pouted. “Fine, but it better not be lame.”

You smiled, connecting your phone to the device. Within moments, the gentle strains of a classical piano piece filled the room. The melody was soothing, intricate, and undeniably elegant.

Logan blinked, his brow furrowing as he stared at you. “What the hell is this?”

“Chopin,” you said simply, adjusting the volume. “It’s calming.”

“Calming?” Logan repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “It’s puttin’ me to sleep.”

“Exactly,” Laura chimed in, her nose scrunching up. “It’s so slow.”

You raised a hand to stop their complaints. “Studies show that classical music helps with brain development in babies.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re really pullin’ the science card on this?”

“I’m pregnant, Logan,” you said with a teasing smile. “Science is on my side, and I get the final say.”

Laura crossed her arms, her expression unimpressed. “Doesn’t the baby need fun music too? Like, happy stuff?”

“Exactly,” Logan muttered, gesturing toward Laura. “Even she gets it.”

You gave them both a pointed look, folding your arms across your chest. “The baby is already going to get plenty of fun. This,” you gestured toward the speaker, “is about balance.”

Laura groaned dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “It’s so boring.”

“It’s good for you,” you said, patting her knee. “Think of it as brain food.”

“I’d rather eat candy,” she muttered, earning a low chuckle from Logan.

You shook your head, unable to hide your smile. “You two are impossible.”

Logan reached over, resting a hand lightly on your knee. “You sure about this, sweetheart? I mean, five minutes of this, and I’m ready to throw myself out a window.”

“Then I’ll enjoy the peace and quiet,” you teased, earning a dry look from him.

Laura grabbed a piece of candy from the small pile she’d been collecting earlier. “What about after the baby’s here? Do we all have to listen to this forever?”

“Not forever,” you replied, leaning back against the cushions. “But for now, Chopin stays.”

Laura sighed, unwrapping her candy with exaggerated slowness. “This better help the baby become a genius or something.”

You laughed softly, resting a hand on your belly. “That’s the plan.”

Logan shook his head, but his lips quirked into a small smile. “You’re lucky I love you, darlin’. Otherwise, I’d have vetoed this nonsense.”

Your heart softened at his words, and you reached for his hand, entwining your fingers with his. “Good thing you do, then.”

Laura watched the exchange, her sharp eyes lingering on the way Logan’s hand covered yours. After a beat, she popped the candy into her mouth and mumbled, “I still think my music’s better.”

“Keep dreamin’, kid,” Logan said, his voice softened with affection. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back, resigned to the piano music that continued to play.

It wasn’t long before Laura’s protests grew quieter, her eyelids drooping as the soothing melody worked its magic. Logan glanced at you, his expression softening as he took in the peaceful scene.

“Alright,” he murmured, his voice low enough not to wake Laura. “Maybe this ain’t so bad after all.”

---

Week 28

“Y/N?” Jean asked, turning on the light in your office, which instantly woke you up.

“Huh?” You slowly maneuvered yourself on the couch to sit up. “What is it?”

“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering why Logan asked me to cover your class.”

“What!?” You exclaimed, standing up—slowly.

Jean stood in front of you, her expression soft yet firm as she handed you your phone and water bottle. “Whoa, whoa. Classes are over for the day. Just… take it easy,” she said, her tone gentle but leaving little room for argument. “How about we get you a snack?”

You blinked at her, still groggy from your nap. “Wait, what? Logan asked you to cover my classes?”

Jean nodded, raising a brow. “He did. You were passed out on the couch in here, and honestly, Y/N, you need the rest. The baby keeping you up again?”

You sighed, running a hand over your bump. “Yeah, the kicks are nonstop. It’s like they’re practicing gymnastics in there. I didn’t mean to nap that long, though.”

Jean gave you a knowing smile as she hooked her arm through yours and began leading you toward the kitchen. “Well, clearly, you needed it. Logan was adamant about you getting some downtime. He even told me to make sure you stayed out of the classroom for the rest of the day.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “He’s been so protective lately. Not that I’m complaining, but it’s almost like he thinks I’m going to break.”

Jean glanced at you, her expression lighthearted but sincere. “He’s just worried about you. And he’s got a point—growing a human is no small feat. Besides, it’s not like you’ve been getting much sleep.”

You sighed as the two of you entered the kitchen, where Logan was rummaging through the fridge. He looked up as you walked in, his eyes immediately softening. “There she is. You get enough sleep, sweetheart?”

“Logan,” you started, giving him a look. “Why’d you ask Jean to cover my classes? I was going to—”

“You were gonna what? Fall asleep in the middle of a lecture?” he interrupted, closing the fridge door and crossing his arms. “You’ve been runnin’ yourself ragged, Y/N. You needed the rest. Jean didn’t mind, did you, Red?”

Jean shook her head, grabbing an apple from the counter. “Not at all. It was no trouble.”

You huffed, not entirely annoyed but still feeling a little embarrassed. “I can handle my workload, you know.”

“Sure, you can,” Logan said, his tone calm but firm. “Doesn’t mean you have to do it all. You’re 28 weeks along, darlin’. Let people help.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, his words settling over you like a warm blanket. “I know. I just don’t want to feel… useless.”

Logan softened, stepping closer and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Useless? Y/N, you’re growin’ our kid in there. That’s the furthest thing from useless I can think of.”

Jean made a show of biting into her apple, her grin teasing. “He’s got you there.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled despite yourself. “Fine. But next time, at least wake me up first.”

“Not a chance,” Logan said, smirking. “You’re too cute when you’re sleepin’.”

Jean laughed, heading for the door. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to it. Try to take it easy, Y/N. And Logan, maybe make her that tea she likes.”

“Got it,” Logan replied as Jean left. He turned back to you, his expression softening even more. “You hungry?”

“A little,” you admitted, settling into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position as Logan busied himself by the counter.

“Good,” Logan said, pulling out a loaf of bread and some fresh vegetables. “You’re gonna eat a proper meal, none of that snackin’ nonsense.”

You quirked a brow at him. “Since when are you the food police?”

“Since you’re growin’ a whole person,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder at you with a pointed look. “And don’t start. I’m not takin’ chances.”

You sighed but couldn’t help the small smile creeping onto your lips. “I already ate lunch, you know.”

“Not enough,” Logan countered, slicing a tomato with precision. “You’re eatin’ again. And drinkin’ water, too.”

“Jean put you up to this, didn’t she?” you asked, though your tone was more amused than accusatory.

Logan snorted, shaking his head. “Jean doesn’t have to tell me what I already know. You’ve been runnin’ on fumes the last few days. This ain’t about overworkin’ or forgettin’—” he shot you a knowing look, “—it’s about takin’ care of yourself.”

You leaned back, adjusting your glasses and resting a hand on your belly. “You know, I can actually take care of myself just fine.”

Logan grunted, finishing the sandwich he was assembling and sliding it onto a plate. “Yeah, but now you’ve got me, so you don’t have to do it alone.” He placed the plate in front of you, along with a glass of water. “Now eat.”

You picked up the sandwich, unable to keep the smile off your face. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked, settling into the chair across from you with his own plate. “Don’t start with the ‘sir’ business, darlin’. Just listen when I tell you somethin’.”

You took a bite, savoring the taste of the fresh vegetables and perfectly toasted bread. “Alright, I’ll admit—it’s good.”

“Damn right it is,” Logan replied, leaning back in his chair. “Made it myself.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he said, his tone teasing but soft. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression quiet and warm.

Your heart softened as you met his eyes. “I do.”

Before the moment could grow too heavy, the sound of small footsteps padding into the kitchen caught your attention. Laura appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled from a nap. She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the two of you.

“Is there food?” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

Logan grinned, pushing back his chair. “Yeah, there’s food. C’mere, kid.”

Laura shuffled over, climbing onto the chair next to you. She glanced at your plate and then at Logan. “Can I have one?”

“Sure thing.” Logan stood, ruffling her hair as he moved back to the counter to make another sandwich.

Laura leaned against the table, watching him work. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Don’t know yet,” Logan replied, focused on slicing another tomato. “Any requests?”

“Pizza,” Laura said immediately, perking up.

“Pizza’s not dinner,” Logan muttered, though there was no real heat in his tone.

“It could be,” Laura argued, her tone matter-of-fact.

You laughed softly, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “We’ll see, sweetheart.”

She glanced up at you, her sharp eyes softening. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured her, giving her a small smile. “Just resting.”

Laura studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. You should.”

Logan placed a sandwich in front of her and ruffled her hair again. “See? Even the kid’s got my back.”

Laura took a big bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before mumbling, “Yeah, but only because she’s having the baby.”

Logan laughed, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough, kid.”

---

Week 34

“How you feelin’?” Ororo asked, handing you a glass of water.

“Like I need this baby out of me now,” you groaned, leaning back against the couch in the common room, your hand resting on your belly.

Ororo chuckled softly, settling into the armchair across from you. “Not much longer now, Y/N. Just a few more weeks.”

You gave her a look, one brow raised. “Yeah, well, tell that to my swollen feet and the ninja inside me practicing their kicks.”

“You’re doing amazing,” she said gently, her calm voice cutting through some of your frustration. “And you’ve got all of us here to help.”

“You mean to hover,” you said with a faint smile. “Jean wouldn’t even let me carry my own books to class last week. I’m surprised Logan hasn’t wrapped me in bubble wrap.”

Ororo smirked, leaning back. “Oh, he tried. I caught him looking up custom safety gear online last week.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That man.”

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Logan appeared in the doorway, Laura trailing behind him with a juice box in her hand. He frowned slightly when he saw you on the couch. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Logan,” you said, your tone exasperated but affectionate. “Just venting about being massive.”

“You’re not massive,” he said, crossing the room to sit beside you. His hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re perfect.”

Laura hopped onto the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs back and forth. “You look kinda big,” she said matter-of-factly, earning a sharp look from Logan.

“Laura,” he said, his voice carrying that low warning tone.

“What? She does!” Laura said, shrugging. “But not in a bad way. Just… big.” She took a sip from her juice box, completely unfazed.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Laura. Glad to know I’m rocking the ‘big’ look.”

Laura grinned, her small face lighting up. “It’s because there’s a baby in there. You’re supposed to be big.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kid, maybe let’s not talk about size right now.”

Laura looked at him innocently. “Why not?”

“Because you’re diggin’ me a hole I’ll never get out of,” Logan muttered, though his lips twitched into a small smile.

Ororo stood, smoothing her skirt. “Well, I’ll leave you to handle that one, Logan.” She winked at you. “I’ll check on you later, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Ororo,” you said, watching her glide out of the room.

Laura leaned over, peering curiously at your belly. “Does it hurt when the baby kicks?”

“Sometimes,” you admitted, resting your free hand on your stomach. “But mostly it just feels… weird. Like a little fish flopping around.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s so gross.”

You chuckled. “Wait until you see diapers.”

Logan let out a low groan. “Don’t remind me.”

Laura tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Do I have to help with diapers?”

“Yes,” Logan and you said at the same time, making her groan dramatically.

“Not fair,” Laura muttered, slumping back against the couch armrest.

“Life’s not fair, kid,” Logan said, smirking. “Get used to it.”

“Speaking of life,” you said, shifting slightly to face Logan, “how’s the latest project coming along? Or did you get sidetracked?”

Logan frowned. “What project?”

“The nursery,” you reminded him, arching a brow. “You said you were going to finish painting it yesterday.”

“Oh,” he said, looking slightly sheepish. “I, uh… got busy.”

“With what?” you asked, trying to suppress a smile.

Logan hesitated, then gestured vaguely toward Laura. “She wanted to go to the park.”

Laura nodded enthusiastically. “He pushed me on the swings for, like, an hour. It was awesome.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Logan, you can’t use Laura as an excuse every time.”

“Why not?” he said, his tone deadpan. “It works.”

“Not forever,” you said, leaning into his side. “But I’ll let it slide this time. You know, because you’re cute.”

He smirked, his arm coming to rest around your shoulders. “Damn right I am.”

Laura made a gagging sound. “Ew, gross. You two are worse than Scott and Jean.”

Logan’s expression darkened. “Don’t compare me to Summers.”

You laughed, reaching over to ruffle Laura’s hair. “Alright, kiddo. Why don’t you go grab one of your books? I’ll read to you for a bit.”

Her face brightened. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, smiling. “But only if you hurry.”

Laura scrambled off the couch and bolted out of the room, her juice box abandoned on the coffee table.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “You spoil her.”

“She deserves it,” you said softly, resting your head on his shoulder. “They all do.”

He was quiet for a moment, his hand coming to rest over yours on your belly. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low. “They do.”

---

Week 36

"Hey, kiddo. Think you can stop elbowing me?" you said to yourself, pressing your hand gently against your belly where some part of the baby—an elbow, a knee, or maybe a foot—had decided to jab you. The baby’s response was a shift in position, followed by another kick that made you groan.

“Still giving you trouble, huh?” Jean’s voice called from the doorway. She walked in, holding a mug of tea, her warm smile soothing in a way that only a close friend’s could be.

“Define trouble,” you said, adjusting your glasses and giving her a pointed look. “If you mean karate practice at 2 a.m., or turning my ribs into a jungle gym, then yes. Major trouble.”

Jean laughed softly and handed you the tea. “Raspberry leaf tea—it might help a bit.”

You took the mug gratefully. “Thank you. You’re my favorite person today.”

“Today?” Jean teased, sitting down beside you on the couch. “I’m always your favorite.”

“Well, you’re beating Logan,” you admitted. “He said the wrong thing earlier. I asked if I looked okay, and he hesitated.”

Jean winced, trying to suppress a grin. “Oof. Classic rookie mistake.”

“Right? I love him, but sometimes I think he’s out to sabotage himself.”

As if on cue, Logan appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together in that perpetual look of concern. “What’s goin’ on here? You alright, sweetheart?”

“She’s fine, Logan,” Jean said with a smirk. “Just complaining about you.”

He snorted, walking over to kneel beside you. “That so? What’d I do this time?”

“You hesitated,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “When I asked if I looked okay.”

Logan looked genuinely baffled for a second before his face softened. “Darlin’, you know I think you look perfect all the time.”

Jean burst into laughter. “Good recovery.”

“Not a recovery,” Logan said, his gruff tone sincere as he looked back at you. “It’s the truth.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same. “Fine. You’re back in my good graces.”

“Like I ever left,” he muttered with a small smirk, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Jean stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Alright, I’ll leave you two to your mushy stuff. Logan, remember to keep her hydrated. And don’t let her overdo it.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you said, gesturing to yourself.

Jean just grinned. “I know. But I also know you. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jean,” you said, watching her leave the room.

Logan settled on the couch beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours. “She’s right, y’know. You need to take it easy.”

“Don’t start,” you warned, but your voice lacked any real edge. “I’m already taking it easy. I’ve barely done anything today.”

“You’re growin’ a whole person. That counts as doin’ somethin’,” he said, his tone gentle.

“You’ve been extra sweet lately,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “What’s going on?”

“Can’t I just be nice to my wife without it bein’ suspicious?” he asked, though his smirk betrayed him.

“Not when you’re Logan,” you teased. “But I’ll allow it.”

“Good,” he said, his hand coming to rest over your belly. The baby gave another kick, and his expression softened. “Still wild in there, huh?”

“Nonstop,” you said, leaning into him. “We’ve got a fighter.”

“Runs in the family,” he said, his voice tinged with pride.

“Speaking of family,” you said, glancing toward the door, “where are the kids?”

“Downstairs with Kurt. He’s showin’ ‘em magic tricks,” Logan said, a fond look crossing his face.

“Magic tricks?” you asked, laughing. “With teleportation?”

“Yup,” Logan said, chuckling. “They think he’s the coolest thing ever.”

“Not surprising,” you said, smiling. “It’s nice, though. To see them happy.”

Logan nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. “Yeah. After everything they’ve been through... they deserve it.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently. “We all do.”

His hand covered yours, and he leaned into your touch. “Yeah, darlin’. We do.”

---

Week 38

Going on walks in the morning with Ororo is something you tried to do a few times a week since you first got pregnant. It just so happened that Logan decided to come along this week to ‘make sure things were runnin’ smoothly.’

But he was also a fast walker, while Ororo had gotten used to slowing her pace to match you walking—or waddling.

Logan stood a few feet ahead, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watched you and Ororo catch up. By the time you reached him, a hand braced against your lower back, Logan slid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

You arched a brow, adjusting your glasses as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Adorable how?”

He grinned, and without hesitation, he gestured vaguely toward your feet. “The waddle.”

Your jaw dropped, but the laugh that followed quickly betrayed your mock offense. “You’re lucky I’m too pregnant to chase you, Logan.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing between the two of you. “I think you mean lucky you can’t catch him.”

Logan smirked and gave Ororo a nod of approval. “Exactly. And don’t act like I’m wrong. You’re practically penguin-level right now.”

“Penguin?” You swatted his chest lightly, though you couldn’t hold back your grin. “You’re not making this better for yourself.”

“Just callin’ it how I see it, sweetheart,” he said, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. His voice softened, and his teasing smirk faded into something more tender. “But you’re the most beautiful penguin I’ve ever seen.”

Ororo snorted, quickly covering her mouth. “That’s your idea of a save?”

“Not helping, Ro,” Logan muttered, though his eyes stayed on you, warm and unyielding.

You rolled your eyes and leaned into him, sighing. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Now, how much longer on this walk before I gotta carry you back?”

“I can walk just fine, thank you,” you said, though your pace was noticeably slower than earlier.

Ororo shook her head, amusement still dancing in her eyes. “We can head back now. I’ve got a class to prepare for anyway.” She gave you a knowing look. “And you need to rest before your afternoon lecture.”

“I’m resting,” you argued half-heartedly. “I’m just… resting while moving.”

Logan scoffed. “That’s not rest, darlin’. That’s stubbornness.”

You shot him a glare but let him guide you back toward the mansion anyway, his arm staying securely around your shoulders.

As the three of you approached the mansion, the sound of laughter drifted through the open windows. Inside, you could hear the other children playing, their voices bright and carefree. It brought a smile to your face despite your exhaustion.

“Sounds like they’re having fun,” you said, glancing toward the windows.

Logan’s expression softened. “They deserve it. After everythin’ they’ve been through, they deserve to just be kids.”

You nodded, your hand instinctively moving to your belly. “I hope our little one has that too. A chance to just… be a kid.”

“They will,” Logan said firmly, his hand covering yours. “We’ll make sure of it.”

You glanced up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “You’re gonna be a great dad, you know that?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze distant for a moment before it softened again. “I’m just hopin’ I don’t screw it up.”

“You won’t,” you said, squeezing his hand. “You’ve already proven you can handle a whole group of kids. One baby will be easy.”

Logan let out a low laugh. “You say that now…”

“You’ll see,” Ororo chimed in with a smile. “You two have got this.”

You smiled back at her, grateful for her unwavering confidence in both of you. For the first time in a long while, you felt a quiet, certain hope settling over you. Maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

---

Week 40

You sat on the edge of the bed in your room at the mansion, absently adjusting your glasses while rubbing your belly. It felt like your body had reached its absolute limit, and the baby wasn’t showing any signs of wanting to come out.

“Sweetheart, you sure you don’t want to go for another walk?” Logan asked, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His sharp eyes softened as they took you in.

“I can barely get to the bathroom without feeling like I’m carrying a bowling ball. You want me to waddle around the garden again?” you said, your tone half-playful, half-exhausted.

He smirked, pushing off the frame and crossing the room to kneel in front of you. His hands rested on your knees, his touch grounding. “Might help move things along,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

“Or I’ll just collapse on the lawn, and you’ll have to carry me back inside,” you countered, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“Not like I’d mind,” he said, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But I get it. You’re done.”

“So done,” you groaned, leaning back on your hands. “I feel like this baby’s gonna stay in there forever. Maybe they’re too comfy.”

Logan’s expression softened even further as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Alright, kid. Time to give your mom a break, huh? We’ve been waitin’ a long time to meet you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out more like a tired chuckle. “You really think that’s going to work?”

“Worth a shot,” he said with a shrug, his warm breath brushing against your belly as he rested his forehead lightly there for a moment. His hand stayed over yours, his touch steady and grounding.

You smirked, resting back against the headboard. “What’s next, Logan? You gonna start singing to them?”

He chuckled, low and gravelly, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I might have a helluva voice hidden somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you teased, adjusting your glasses with one hand. “I bet it comes out after a couple of beers.”

“Don’t need beer to impress you,” he said, his smirk softening into something more sincere. He stood and sat beside you on the bed, his hand instinctively returning to your belly. “You’re already stuck with me, anyway.”

You gave him a knowing look, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. “Stuck is a strong word. I chose you, remember?”

His smile faltered for a moment, something unreadable passing across his face. Then it softened again, and he nodded. “Yeah. And I’ll never understand why.”

You tilted your head, placing your hand on his cheek to guide his gaze back to yours. “Because you’re you, Logan. And because you remember me—even when I don’t. That means something.”

“It means everything,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His fingers laced with yours over the swell of your stomach, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I’d go through every lifetime again if it meant I got to find you.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and for a moment, the exhaustion and discomfort melted away. “You’re kind of a sap, you know that?”

“Don’t go tellin’ people,” he said with a small smirk, though his eyes remained soft. “I got a reputation to keep.”

You laughed, the sound filling the room like a melody you hadn’t realized you needed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The baby shifted again, the movement more of a roll this time, and you let out a small groan, pressing your hand to the side of your belly. Logan’s hand immediately followed yours, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Braxton-Hicks again?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

“Probably,” you said with a sigh. “It’s been like this for days—just my body teasing me.”

“Teasin’ or warnin’ me to get my act together before the real deal?” he muttered, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “What do you need, sweetheart? Water? Pillow? Ice cream?”

“Right now? Just you,” you said softly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “It’s been a long day.”

He didn’t move for a moment, just stayed there with his forehead resting against yours, his hand still steady on your belly. Then he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again. “You’re sure? ‘Cause if you need ice cream, I’ll steal a whole carton from the freezer.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’m sure. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Logan leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his free hand sliding up to cradle the side of your face. When he pulled back, his voice was low and steady. “You’re the toughest person I’ve ever met, Y/N. I don’t tell you enough, but… I’m proud of you.”

“Logan,” you said, your throat tightening with emotion. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do,” he interrupted, his gaze unwavering. “You’re carryin’ our kid, and you’re still teachin’, still dealin’ with all of us. You’re incredible.”

You smiled through the sudden sting of tears, leaning into his touch. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

“Not so bad?” he repeated, his lips quirking into a smirk. “I’ll take it.”

The baby kicked again, stronger this time, and Logan’s hand moved instinctively to follow the motion. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Our kid’s gonna be a handful. I can already tell.”

“Runs in the family,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Damn right we will,” he said, wrapping his arm around you and holding you close.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to sit there in the quiet, the weight of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm blanket. Even as the discomfort of the past few weeks lingered, you couldn’t help but feel that everything—somehow—would be okay.

---

A few days later, you were back to walking with Ororo and Logan. The early March air was crisp, with the hint of spring teasing through the last clutches of winter. It was the kind of day that might have been invigorating under different circumstances, but all you could think about was how desperately you wanted the baby out.

Ororo’s pace was as gentle as always, her stride perfectly in sync with yours. Logan, on the other hand, walked a few steps ahead, his natural tendency toward alertness making him scout the path as if he were on patrol. Every so often, he turned his head to glance back at you, his sharp eyes softening slightly whenever they met yours.

“You two don’t have to babysit me, you know,” you muttered, one hand braced on your lower back as you trudged along.

“Babysittin’? Is that what we’re callin’ this now?” Logan asked, stopping to wait for you and Ororo. His lips curved into a smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Seems more like I’m playin’ bodyguard.”

“Feels more like hovering,” you shot back, though there was no real heat in your tone.

Ororo smiled, her expression serene as always. “Think of it as moral support.”

“Moral support for what? Waddling?” you quipped, glancing down at your feet, which felt miles away thanks to your swollen belly.

“Penguin-level waddling,” Logan teased, his smirk widening.

You groaned, shaking your head. “Not this again.”

Ororo chuckled, falling into step beside you. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just jealous he doesn’t have an excuse to walk slower.”

Logan snorted. “I don’t need an excuse. You’re just mad because I don’t need to catch my breath every ten feet.”

“Oh, please,” you muttered, pausing to adjust your coat as another Braxton-Hicks contraction made you wince. “You’re one wrong step away from me ‘accidentally’ using my powers on you.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something softer as he stepped closer. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him playfully.

Ororo chuckled again, shaking her head. “You two are impossible. Come on, let’s finish this lap before Logan gets himself in more trouble.”

Logan stayed closer as the three of you continued, his hand brushing against yours whenever you shifted your balance. By the time you rounded the last bend toward the mansion, your feet ached, your back throbbed, and you were thoroughly done with the concept of walking altogether.

“Alright,” you said, stopping just shy of the steps leading up to the entrance. “I’m tapping out. If this baby doesn’t come soon, I’m moving into a wheelbarrow.”

Logan smirked, stepping in front of you to offer his arm. “I’ll carry you in if you want.”

“I’m not that helpless,” you said, but you took his arm anyway, letting him guide you up the steps.

“Never said you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Ororo held the door open for the two of you, a small, knowing smile on her face. “I’ll check in with you later, Y/N. Make sure you get some rest.”

“Rest,” you muttered as Logan helped you inside. “That’s all anyone ever says.”

“Maybe ‘cause it’s what you need,” Logan said, his hand brushing against the small of your back. “You’re growin’ a person, remember?”

You sighed but leaned into him as the two of you headed toward the common area. “I know. I’m just ready to meet them already.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his hand stayed steady at your back, his quiet presence grounding you in a way nothing else could.

---

“Jean, please.” You gave her your best pout as she looked you over.

She slipped off her reading glasses, “I’m sorry, Y/N. But I can’t induce labor yet. If you don’t go into labor by Wednesday, then I will.”

“Wednesday.” You muttered, resting your head back against the couch in the medbay. “Two days away.”

Jean gave you an apologetic smile, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. “I know it feels like forever, but the baby’s just taking their time. Trust me, if it were medically necessary, I’d already be inducing. Right now, you’re both doing great.”

You groaned, adjusting your glasses and giving her an exhausted look. “Great doesn’t feel like the word I’d use.”

Jean chuckled, her tone warm. “I get it, Y/N. I do. But you’ve got this—two more days tops, and we’ll meet this little one.”

The door creaked open, and Logan stepped in, his sharp eyes immediately zoning in on you. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jean answered before you could, her voice tinged with amusement. “She’s just tired of waiting.”

Logan crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hand finding your shoulder. “Tired doesn’t even cover it,” you muttered, leaning into his touch.

“Hang in there, sweetheart,” Logan said, his voice low and steady. “Couple more days, and this’ll all be behind you.”

“Behind me,” you repeated with a huff. “And then we have an entire human to figure out how to keep alive.”

“Good thing we’re a team, then,” Logan said, his smirk softening as his thumb brushed over your shoulder. “And we’ve got backup.” He tilted his head toward Jean, who grinned.

“You’ll be great,” Jean added, her tone firm. “Both of you. Now, how about we get you out of here? Go rest, maybe try a warm bath.”

You gave her a skeptical look. “A bath? You know I can barely get in and out of the tub.”

Logan straightened, his hand moving to the small of your back. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Jean smirked but said nothing, giving you a little wave as Logan helped you to your feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called as you both headed for the door.

---

By the time you made it back to your room, you were exhausted all over again. Logan helped you ease onto the bed, his hands steadying you as though you might topple over at any second.

“You don’t have to hover,” you said, though your voice lacked any real bite.

“Yeah, I do,” Logan replied, settling beside you on the edge of the bed. “You’ve been growin’ this kid for nine months, darlin’. Least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable.”

You tilted your head to look at him, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “You’ve been taking care of me since day one. I think you’ve got that covered.”

“Not takin’ chances,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “You need somethin’? Tea? Pillow? Ice cream?”

“Maybe all of the above,” you teased, resting a hand on your belly as the baby shifted again.

Logan’s hand joined yours, his rough fingers gentle as they brushed over your skin. “Getting more active?”

“Feels like they’re hosting a dance party in there,” you said, wincing slightly as another kick made your ribs ache. “Do you think that’s a sign they’re ready to come out?”

“Hope so,” Logan murmured, his thumb tracing small circles over your belly. “I’m ready to meet ’em.”

You softened, your heart aching at the tenderness in his voice. “Me too.”

---

The next morning, you woke up to find Laura perched on the edge of the bed, staring at you with her usual serious expression. She had a book in her lap and a piece of toast in her hand.

“Morning,” you said, your voice groggy.

“Good morning,” Laura replied, her tone quieter than usual. “Jean said you’re going to have the baby soon.”

“Hopefully,” you said, sitting up slowly. “What’s with the book?”

She held it up, the cover revealing it was one of the pregnancy guides Jean had left in your room weeks ago. “I wanted to see what happens when the baby’s born.”

Logan appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of food balanced effortlessly in one hand. His eyes softened when they landed on you, and then on Laura, sitting on the bed with a book much too advanced for her age. He smirked as he walked in, setting the tray on the nightstand.

“You doin’ research, kid?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Laura nodded, closing the book to show the cover. “Jean said the baby’s coming soon, so I wanted to see what it’s like. It doesn’t look fun.”

You laughed softly, leaning back against the pillows as you adjusted your glasses. “It’s not exactly a picnic, but it’ll be worth it.”

Laura frowned, tilting her head. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Logan stiffened slightly, glancing at you, but you gave him a reassuring look before answering. “Yeah, it does,” you said honestly. “But it’s the kind of pain you can handle because you know something amazing is waiting on the other side.”

Laura’s brow furrowed as she processed that. “Like… when you get a shot and it hurts, but then you don’t get sick?”

You smiled. “Exactly like that.”

Logan grunted as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on your leg. “Except it’s a hell of a lot longer than a shot.”

“Logan,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“What?” he replied, holding his hands up. “Just sayin’. She asked.”

Laura smirked, her sharp little gaze bouncing between the two of you. “So… what happens if the baby doesn’t come out soon?”

“Well,” you said, glancing at Logan for a beat before continuing, “if they don’t come by Wednesday, Jean’s going to help things along.”

Laura perked up. “Like a superhero?”

You laughed. “Something like that.”

Logan leaned back, his fingers brushing lightly over your leg as he looked at Laura. “What’re you so curious for? You plannin’ to be the baby’s first teacher?”

Laura shrugged, her expression neutral, but her tone gave her away. “Maybe. I wanna be ready.”

Your heart softened at that, and you reached out to ruffle her hair. “You’re going to be the best big sister, you know that?”

Laura didn’t pull away like she usually did, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “I’m gonna try.”

“You’re already doin’ better than most,” Logan said, his voice warm and steady. He stood, grabbing the tray of food and setting it in front of you. “Alright, darlin’. Eat up. You need your strength.”

You gave him a look but picked up the fork, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Yes, boss.”

Laura giggled, climbing onto the bed to sit cross-legged next to you. “She listens to you more than she listens to Jean.”

Logan smirked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “That’s ’cause I’ve got charm.”

“Or because you’re stubborn,” you muttered, taking a bite of your food.

“Both,” Laura said, grinning as she opened her book again.

---

The next day, you were talking to Rogue and Remy while walking around the mansion. It was raining outside—typical March weather—so you compromised. And since Ororo was covering your class, because technically you were on maternity leave even though you lived at the mansion, you did the best with what you were given.

You would’ve walked with Logan, but he had his history class, and the kids didn’t need their teacher disappearing in the middle of a lesson. So when Rogue and Remy strolled into the kitchen, casually suggesting a walk, you took the offer. Anything to distract from the heaviness of your body and the endless anticipation of the baby’s arrival.

The three of you wandered the mansion’s hallways, the rain tapping rhythmically against the windows. Rogue walked beside you, her usual energy tempered by your slower pace, while Remy lingered a few steps ahead, spinning a playing card idly between his fingers. They were bickering lightly—flirting, really—but it was entertaining enough to keep your mind off your aching back.

“You’re tellin’ me you’d wear that to a fancy dinner?” Remy asked, his Cajun accent thick with disbelief as he gestured vaguely at Rogue’s sweater and jeans. “C’mon, chérie, where’s your sense of style?”

Rogue huffed, rolling her eyes as she folded her arms. “Not everyone wants to dress like they’re sneaking into a casino, Remy.”

“It’s called flair,” he replied with a smirk, spinning the card in his hand before tucking it neatly into his pocket. “You could use a little.”

“You could use a little modesty,” she shot back, her Southern twang sharp with amusement. “Last time I saw you in the Danger Room, you had your shirt halfway off for no reason.”

“I was warmin’ up,” Remy said, feigning innocence as he tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Ain’t my fault if I make it look good.”

Rogue groaned, turning to you. “Do you hear this? He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

You laughed softly, your hand resting on your belly as you walked. “He’s entertaining, at least.”

“Merci, Y/N,” Remy said with a flourish, bowing dramatically. “Always nice to be appreciated.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Rogue muttered, though the hint of a smile betrayed her.

As the three of you reached the end of the hallway, you slowed, one hand bracing against the wall for balance. A strange sensation rippled through your body—not pain exactly, but a sudden shift that made you stop in your tracks.

“Y/N?” Rogue asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer. “You okay?”

“I think…” You trailed off, your eyes widening as you looked down. Warmth spread across your legs, soaking into the fabric of your pants. It took a second for the realization to hit, but when it did, your voice was steady despite the chaos building in your chest. “My water just broke.”

Rogue froze for half a beat before springing into action, her hand darting to your arm. “Okay, okay. Uh, we’ll get you to the medbay. Remy, go find Logan!”

Remy didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted down the hallway, his usual swagger replaced by urgency. Rogue turned back to you, her expression equal parts worry and determination.

“You good to walk, or should I grab a chair?” she asked, her arm already steadying you.

“I can walk,” you said, though your legs felt shaky beneath you. “Just… not fast.”

“Take your time,” she said softly, guiding you down the hallway with one hand on your back. “Jean’s probably already in the medbay. We’ll get you there in no time.”

By the time you reached the medbay doors, Logan was there, his chest heaving slightly from running. His sharp eyes immediately found yours, scanning your face for any sign of distress.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and steady despite the tension in his posture.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice breathless but firm. “Just wet and ready to not be pregnant anymore.”

A flicker of relief crossed his face, but he didn’t let go of his protective edge. “Jean inside?”

Rogue nodded. “I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

She slipped into the medbay, leaving you and Logan standing in the hallway. He stepped closer, his hands resting gently on your arms as he looked down at you.

“We’re really doin’ this,” he murmured, his voice softening as his eyes met yours.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart swelling despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. “We are.”

Logan leaned in, pressing a quick, grounding kiss to your forehead. “I’m here, darlin’. Every step of the way.”

Before you could respond, Jean appeared in the doorway, her expression calm but focused. “Alright, Y/N. Let’s get you settled. Logan, you’re staying, right?”

“Not goin’ anywhere,” Logan said firmly, his hand moving to the small of your back as Jean led you inside.

As you eased onto the hospital-style bed, Logan stayed close, his presence a steady anchor as the medbay buzzed with activity. Rogue and Remy hovered in the doorway, their expressions a mix of worry and excitement.

“You got this, Y/N,” Rogue said with a small smile.

“Damn right she does,” Logan muttered, his hand squeezing yours as the world seemed to narrow down to the three of you.

---

After three hours of enduring contractions, Jean told you that you technically weren’t even in active labor yet. The words hit like a punch to the gut—or, more accurately, like one of the baby's particularly well-aimed kicks to your ribs.

“What do you mean, not active labor?” you asked, your voice laced with exasperation as you adjusted your glasses. You leaned back against the bed, pressing your hand into the curve of your aching lower back. “I’ve been feeling contractions for hours, Jean.”

Jean gave you an apologetic look, her hands tucked into the pockets of her scrubs. “I know, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you’re still in the early stages. Things are progressing, but not as fast as we’d like. We’ll keep monitoring, but for now, just try to stay comfortable.”

Logan, seated at your side, had a storm cloud forming behind his eyes. “Comfortable? How the hell is she supposed to stay comfortable when she’s been goin’ through this all day?”

“Logan,” you said, your tone a mixture of exhaustion and affection. You rested your hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze. “It’s fine. It’s just… frustrating.”

Jean crossed her arms, clearly unfazed by Logan’s bristling. “I know it’s frustrating, but this is normal. Labor can take time, especially for a first baby.”

Logan leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his jaw tight. “Doesn’t mean she has to suffer.”

“I’ll manage,” you said, though even you weren’t entirely convinced. The contractions were strong enough to sap your energy but not enough to push you into the next phase of labor. It felt like being stuck in limbo.

“Why don’t you try walking around again?” Jean suggested, her tone practical. “It might help things move along.”

You groaned, but before you could argue, Logan was already standing and holding out a hand. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s give it a shot.”

With a sigh, you let him help you to your feet, your knees wobbling slightly as another contraction rippled through your abdomen. Logan’s arm immediately went around your waist, his hold steady and grounding.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his brow furrowing as he looked down at you.

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, though your free hand gripped his forearm like a lifeline. “Just… give me a second.”

Jean hovered nearby, her watchful gaze flicking between the monitors and the two of you. “Take it slow. And if you feel anything change—anything at all—let me know.”

Logan shot her a look that practically screamed obviously, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he focused on you, his voice softening. “Alright, darlin’. Let’s take this nice and easy.”

The two of you started a slow, shuffling circuit around the medbay. Logan’s hand never left your waist, his other arm hovering near you in case you stumbled. He didn’t say much, which you appreciated. The quiet was comforting, a steady backdrop to the chaos in your body.

“Did you imagine it’d be like this?” you asked after a few laps, your voice breaking the silence.

“What, labor?” Logan glanced at you, his lips twitching into a wry smirk. “Can’t say I thought about it much, darlin’.”

You laughed softly, the sound strained but genuine. “Fair enough.”

His smirk softened into something more tender as he adjusted his grip on your waist. “But I figured I’d be here. No way I’m missin’ this.”

Another contraction hit, and you gritted your teeth, pausing mid-step as the wave of discomfort washed over you. Logan stopped immediately, his arm tightening around you. “Breathe through it,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You got this.”

You focused on his voice, on the warmth of his hand against your back. The contraction eased, and you exhaled shakily, leaning into him for a moment before straightening.

“Better?” he asked, his hand brushing against your arm.

“Yeah,” you said, though you were starting to wonder how much longer you could keep this up. “Thanks.”

Logan’s hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch impossibly gentle. “You’re tougher than anyone I know, sweetheart. Don’t forget that.”

You gave him a tired smile, your heart swelling despite the discomfort. “You’re pretty great yourself.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, his lips quirking upward. “Just doin’ my job.”

Another hour passed, and though the walking helped ease some of the discomfort, the progress was agonizingly slow. Jean popped in periodically, checking your vitals and offering words of encouragement, but even her calm reassurance couldn’t mask the fact that things weren’t moving quickly.

“Maybe you should sit down for a bit,” Logan said after one particularly long contraction. “You’ve been on your feet a while.”

You hesitated, part of you unwilling to admit defeat. But the ache in your back and the growing fatigue in your legs won out. “Alright,” you said, letting him guide you back to the bed.

As you settled onto the mattress, Logan crouched in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your knees. His gaze met yours, steady and unyielding. “We’re gonna get through this, Y/N. Whatever it takes.”

You nodded, your throat tightening with emotion. “I know.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And when it’s done, we’re gonna meet our kid. Just keep thinkin’ about that, okay?”

“Okay,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his cheek. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Always, darlin’,” he said, his voice a quiet promise.

---

Hours blurred together in a haze of contractions, half-coherent conversation, and endless repositioning in a desperate attempt to find relief. Logan remained at your side through it all, his steady presence an anchor as your body worked overtime. Jean checked in frequently, her calm demeanor a welcome contrast to the storm raging inside you.

By the time the clock ticked into the early hours of the next day, exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, but something had shifted. The contractions had deepened, growing more intense and closer together.

Jean walked in, her sharp eyes scanning the monitors. “Well, Y/N, it looks like we’re finally moving into active labor.”

You groaned, wiping the sweat from your brow. “About time.”

“Think of it this way,” she said with a wry smile. “You’ve done a lot of the hard work already. Now, it’s about focusing and letting your body take over.”

Logan glanced at Jean, his jaw tight. “How long’s this phase gonna last?”

Jean shrugged, though her expression was sympathetic. “It varies. Could be a few hours, could be longer. But we’re in the home stretch now.”

You leaned back against the pillows, clutching Logan’s hand. “Please tell me there’s more we can do to speed this up.”

Jean’s eyes softened as she approached, adjusting the IV beside you. “You’re doing everything you can, Y/N. Just keep listening to your body. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

After Jean stepped out to give you some space, Logan’s hand slid over yours, his rough palm warm and grounding. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“No,” you admitted, letting out a shaky laugh. “But I’ll get there.”

“Damn right you will,” he said, his voice low and steady. “You’re the toughest person I know.”

The hours crawled by in a relentless rhythm of contractions. Logan never left your side, his hands brushing sweat-dampened strands of hair from your face and murmuring quiet words of encouragement. Even when you snapped at him—once for breathing too loudly and another time for being too quiet—he took it in stride, his patience unwavering.

When another contraction hit, you squeezed Logan’s hand—harder than you expected. He winced, shaking out his fingers when you finally loosened your grip a few minutes later. “Jesus, sweetheart. You gotta grip on you.”

You managed a weak laugh, pushing your glasses up your nose. “Maybe next time you won’t tell me to breathe through it.”

“Hey,” he said with a smirk, “I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“Try harder,” you muttered, shifting on the bed to find some kind of relief. “And maybe invest in a steel glove if you’re going to keep holding my hand.”

Logan chuckled, leaning closer to press a kiss to your temple. “I’ll keep that in mind. You good for now?”

“As good as I can be,” you said, wincing as another wave of discomfort rippled through you. “How much longer, Jean?”

Jean glanced up from the monitor, her expression calm and focused. “You’re getting there, Y/N. You’re fully dilated now, so we’ll start pushing soon.”

“Soon?” you repeated, your voice laced with disbelief. “Jean, I’ve been at this for over twelve hours.”

“I know,” Jean said gently, stepping closer. “But you’ve done an amazing job. The baby’s almost here, I promise.”

Logan squeezed your hand, his other hand brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “You hear that? Almost there.”

“You’re a lot calmer than I expected you to be,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “What happened to all that pacing you were doing earlier?”

“I got it outta my system,” Logan said, though the flicker of tension in his jaw betrayed him. “Figured you don’t need me addin’ to the chaos.”

“That’s... surprisingly considerate of you,” you said, giving him a faint smile. “But I wouldn’t mind a little chaos if it means this baby gets out faster.”

Jean chuckled softly, adjusting her gloves. “Alright, let’s get started. Y/N, we’re going to do this one step at a time. Logan, stay right where you are—you’ve got the most important job.”

Logan arched a brow. “What, sittin’ here?”

“Exactly,” Jean said with a teasing smile. “You’re her support. That’s everything.”

Logan turned back to you, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “You good, darlin’?”

You nodded, though your nerves were beginning to creep in. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Jean said, positioning herself at the foot of the bed. “Y/N, when the next contraction hits, I want you to take a deep breath and push.”

The first push was harder than you expected—pain radiated through your body, leaving you breathless and trembling. Logan’s hand never left yours, his grip firm and steady as he murmured quiet encouragement.

“You’re doin’ great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm. “One step closer.”

“I hate this,” you muttered through clenched teeth. “I hate this so much.”

“I know,” Logan said, his brow furrowing as he watched you. “But you’re tougher than this. You got it.”

Jean’s voice cut through the haze. “That’s it, Y/N. Another deep breath, and push again.”

The hours blurred together in a haze of pain, exhaustion, and Logan’s constant presence. His voice became your anchor, grounding you every time you felt like giving up.

“You’re almost there,” Jean said finally, her voice filled with quiet excitement. “The baby’s crowning. One more push, Y/N.”

“You hear that?” Logan said, his eyes locked on yours. “One more, sweetheart. You got this.”

“I don’t think I can,” you whispered, your voice trembling with exhaustion.

Logan leaned closer, his forehead brushing against yours. “Yes, you can. You’ve made it this far, Y/N. One more push, and we’re meetin’ our kid.”

Something in his voice gave you the strength you needed. You took a deep breath and pushed with everything you had, the effort leaving you gasping and trembling.

Then, suddenly, there was a new sound—a loud, piercing cry that filled the room.

“It’s a girl,” Jean said, her voice soft as she held up the tiny, squirming baby.

For a moment, everything else faded away. Logan’s hand tightened around yours as his gaze shifted to the baby. His expression was raw, a mixture of awe and disbelief as Jean placed the baby on your chest.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face as you looked down at her. Her tiny hands flailed, her cries softening as you stroked her cheek.

Logan didn’t say anything, his eyes fixed on the baby. He reached out tentatively, his large hand dwarfing her tiny frame as he brushed his fingers over her head. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Jean’s voice, calm but brisk, broke the spell. “Alright, Logan, Y/N, I need to clean her up and check her vitals. I promise she won’t be out of your arms for long.”

You nodded, reluctant but trusting. Jean gently lifted the baby, her cries picking up again as she was moved to the nearby bassinet. Logan’s hand lingered on yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“She’s okay,” you said softly, trying to reassure yourself as much as him.

Logan nodded, his eyes glued to the bassinet where Jean was carefully examining the baby. “She’s more than okay. She’s tough, like her mom.”

A tired laugh escaped your lips, and you leaned your head back against the pillows. “She’s loud, like her dad.”

Logan smirked, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Guess that’s fair.”

Jean glanced back at you both, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Vitals are perfect. Strong heartbeat, great reflexes. She’s a healthy baby girl.”

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Thank God.”

Jean wrapped the baby in a soft blanket, her cries subsiding into quiet whimpers. She turned to Logan, her expression soft. “Want to hold her?”

Logan froze for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, with a slight nod, he stood and stepped closer. Jean placed the baby in his arms with practiced care, adjusting his hands until they cradled her just right.

For a long moment, Logan just stood there, staring down at her. His face, usually so guarded, was completely open—raw and filled with wonder. “Hey there, little one,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You took your time gettin’ here, huh?”

The baby stirred, her tiny hand curling reflexively against his chest. Logan’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as he adjusted his grip, his broad hands gentle and protective. He turned slightly, so you could see her better.

“She’s got your nose,” he said, glancing at you with a hint of a smirk.

You tilted your head, studying her tiny features through the haze of exhaustion and emotion. “And your scowl,” you teased, your voice soft.

Jean chuckled quietly from the corner, tidying up the supplies. “You two are going to be insufferable with her, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Logan said without missing a beat, his eyes never leaving the baby.

After a few minutes, Logan carefully made his way back to your bedside. He lowered himself onto the chair beside you, shifting so you could see her more clearly. “You want to hold her again?”

Your arms reached out instinctively, and Logan helped guide her into your grasp. The moment her tiny weight settled against you, the exhaustion seemed to fade into the background. She blinked up at you, her unfocused gaze somehow locking onto yours.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you murmured, your voice trembling with emotion. “I’m your mom. We’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”

Logan’s hand rested gently on your shoulder, his thumb tracing slow circles. “She knows, darlin’.”

The baby shifted slightly, her small fist brushing against your chest as her eyelids began to flutter closed. The quiet, steady rhythm of her breathing filled the room, and for a moment, everything else disappeared—the pain, the fear, the world outside. It was just the three of you.

and that was 2017 and part of 2018! also, since i'm a very factual numbers person, gabby was born on march 9, 2018 (which means your pregnancy began around june 16, 2017). don't ask why i spent the time to calculate it, just roll with it.

but... we finally got gabby <33

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever

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novas-corner · 2 days ago

Text

OH DEAR GODS PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKED MY WRITING???? I hope y’all know I’m freaking out about this, it will get to my head (my apolocheese)

Anyways, a singular person asked for more… so… more it is!!

Again with all of this I know almost NOTHING about the game, I’ve missed out on a lot of lore since I am simply a card collector… and I’m very biased towards characters 😭‼️

Also this was NOT proofread properly (I’m doing this on no sleep at eight in the morning.)

Anyways, part 1 is here!

Also I’m basing their schedules around THIS post here!! (I think it’s official stuff? Idk)

Thank you for listening to me yap… back to being isekaid!!!! (I still do not know how to spell that)

Oh also there’s angst ish in here? Idk man I’m just writing out my thoughts at this point LOL

OH FUCK AN ISEKAI

Alright well sleeping was… a nightmare. All five of them argued until you eventually gave up and went to the couch. Damn boys, they’re gonna make your life trouble and you know it. But you gotta admit… five guys fawning all over you is kinda nice! The attention? Fantastic. They give you massages? UGH, so nice.

Well… you’ll need one of those mentioned massages tomorrow, you know damn well your back is going to be killing you in the morning.

You’re surprised to see Sylus walk into the living room, sitting next to you.

“You shouldn’t sleep out here sweetie, it’s not good for your body… what if I took you back to the N109 zone with me? You could sleep in a nice comfortable bed there and there would be much more space”

You groan, sitting up

“The only way I will do that is if you bring the other four with us. You need to remember that we are all not technically in our own universes since this ISNT the main storyline of the game. I don’t want them to be stranded here, I’d feel bad about that”

He sighs, but smiles down at you, pulling your head into his lap.

“Always thinking of others before yourself hm sweetie? Be a bit selfish sometimes okay?”

You huff, but relax into his embrace nonetheless.

“Yeah… I’ll try. Why are you up anyways? Couldn’t sleep?”

He’s running his fingers through your hair (or just rubbing your bald head, idk man) and chuckles down at you.

“Oh come on, I thought you knew all about us”

He’s teasing you… cocky mf-

“The N109 zone doesn’t have a day or night technically, so my schedule is a bit off from everyone else”

Oooooooh… riiiight… you had forgotten about that, honestly there’s probably so much you’ve forgotten. You never did read through the events or stories, just let them play in the background to get more pulls for banners… maybe you should get back into the story after all this blows over… or then again… maybe you won’t have to due to being with them all the time now.

“Right… I forgot about that… well I’m… tired. So I’m going to sleep- lemme move-“

You’re trying to shuffle off his lap to not disturb him, but he just rests a hand on the small of your back and tells you to ‘not worry’ and that he can ‘handle you sleeping for a bit’

…that’s sweet…

You’re relaxing into him almost immediately and drifting off, letting your slumber take over you.

What you don’t know however, is that once sylus is sure you’re asleep, he’s analyzing you, trying to see if this was all some ploy to not be caught for cheating… but it’s really a different person. What was once a person he knew was now just someone who knew him. It was a strange feeling, they had the face of the one he loved, they almost sounded like them too— they just spoke differently. It felt so right and yet so wrong to have you there… maybe he should have Zayne give you a physical checkup tomorrow, make sure you’re healthy and all.

Sylus tries to not care for you, after all… you’re not HIS, not the person he knew. But you acted the same in so many ways… hopefully this can all be fixed. For now though, he sits running his fingers through your hair as he reads a book.

~Timeskip~

It’s morning now and you groggily wake up to the smell of bacon. You’re sitting up, rubbing your sleep ridden eyes as a cheerful voice calls out from the kitchen.

“Oh! Sorry pips, did I wake you up?”

You’re standing now, walking over to Caleb with a yawn.

“Nono… I just woke up… whatcha making?”

He’s all smiles, you’re honestly not sure how he has so much energy at six in the morning but whatever.

“Just some bacon and eggs! Want some?”

He says with a grin, pointing to the plate of bacon and eggs. You pause, eyeing the plate.

“Were the eggs made first? I’m allergic and can’t really risk cross contamination… don’t wanna die today, y’know?” (I’m reminding y’all that this is ME written as if it’s YOU. We ain’t having eggs together homies 🫵🥲)

“Oh?? Uh… I think so? Maybe you shouldn’t eat them to be safe… I’ll make you something else!”

He’s saying while already looking for something else to make… at least they know where everything in this apartment is located, I’ve got no clue.

You’re trying to find bread and hear him mumbling something about how his version of you isn’t allergic to anything… guess that’s a difference.

He sees you rifling through literally every drawer and pats you on the head.

“You know you can ask for things… right?”

“Well- maybe I just wanted to see if I could do it myself, this is technically my apartment after all… but uh… where’s the bread?”

He’s laughing at you, pointing to the bread literally in the counter, you blind blind mf. Your shoulders almost slump in defeat as you pop some toast into the toaster and open the fridge. Huh… fully stocked… that’s nice, where’s the butter though…

As if reading your mind, Caleb walks behind you and grabs the butter for you.

“Here, it’s buried in there, you wouldn’t have found it alone”

You’re just kinda looking up at him, he’d got you cages in between him and the door- HE DID THE HOT THING WHERE THEY GRAB SOMETHING FOR YOU GANG. Ugh you forget that this is a game about flirting and they’re gonna be doing that.

“Oh… right, thank you”

You’re quickly scurrying away from him— and as everyone does, you get spooked by the damn toaster. That mf laughs at you AGAIN. Jerk…

Anyways you’re buttering your toast and watching as he plates his food, having made extra for the others… that’s sweet of him.

“I usually ask my version of you to work out in the mornings… so… would you want to join me for a morning workout after breakfast?”

You look up from your toast, a mouthful and crumbs on your face, he just smiles at you as you swallow your food and wipe your face.

“Mm- sure? Im not the strongest though so expect me to not keep up.”

Which gets you thinking… how in the hell are you going to do the job of the MC??? There’s no way you could deal with wanderers… would you being here jeopardize the job the MC has? Oh gods I mean you can technically rely on the guys for money but what if they get sick of you not being their MC. Not only that, is time passing back home? Will people realize you’re gone? Are you going to end up like an unsolved crime case?

“Hey… are you okay?”

His voice snaps you out of the despair trace you were in, you look up at him with wide eyes and see him looking at you concerned.

“Oh… yeah sorry I was just thinking… I’ll join you for the workout, it’ll probably take my mind off things.”

You’re trying to keep smiling, you’ve been obsessed with these men for months and they’re literally all here, you should just enjoy this in case it’s a dream, y’know?

He’d still visibly concerned but decides to drop it, finishing his food and grabbing yours and his empty plates, putting them in the sink to wash later.

“Well let’s go workout then shall we? You can sit on my back while I do pushups? Alright pips?”

OH BOY!!! You’re standing with a smile, nodding along and following him along to the door, pausing and looking down at your clothes.

“Ooooh wait I need to change my clothes first”

You begin to wander back to what you found out is your room, walking in to see Zayne buttoning up his shirt, and Rafayel and Xavier cuddled up in bed… well more like Xavier cuddling up to Rafayel but whatever they look kinda cute, y’know?

You smile at Zayne, he just nods to you, finishing putting his shirt on.

“There’s breakfast there, Caleb made eggs and Bacon, plus bread for toast”

You’re saying as you walk over to the closet, rifling through the clothes there. You know that MC has got to have something for a workout other than this damn hunters uniform… surely right?

Oh thank the gods they do. (I actually could not find one but I’m gonna guess MC has a workout outfit)

“Are you working out? Have you eaten breakfast yet?”

You turn to see Zayne, who is now hovering behind you.

“Oh! Yeah Caleb invited me to workout with him, I guess him and the me you know worked out in the mornings”

He just nods.

“Alright, enjoy that then, I’ll be back later, I’m going to try and stay with you overnight and whatnot to see if I can help figure out what’s going on, the rest of the men have also agreed they want to be around as well.”

You just nod, biting at your lip slightly. It’s sweet that they care about you enough, but you’re sure they’re only caring because they want their old lives back. You can’t really blame them though since you just want your life back too. Again, it’s nice to be here with men you’ve simped over… but you have friends, parents… ugh be positive damnit, we can’t be depressed all the time.

“Right okay…“

You’re trailing off, not really knowing how to proceed.

“The white haired man— Sylus I believe? He mentioned that I should give you a checkup at some point today. Would you rather visit the hospital during my lunch break or wait I til I get back?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. Oh boy these mfs are in for a TREAT, they’ll never expect the amount of things wrong with me. Huh that begs the question, will my body function differently than theirs? I mean obviously I don’t have the protocore heart and whatever else… but is it different since they’re game characters?

OH MF YOU DIDNT ANSWER-

“Probably just when you get back, I’m not really sure how to get to the hospital after all.”

He just nods, patting you on the head and walking out.

“Sounds good, I’ll expect you to be ready when I get home then. Have a good day.”

HE’S SO STOIC???? I don’t know how to feel bout that but whATEVER YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING OUT.

You gather your clothes and move over to the bathroom, as you’re getting dressed you can hear Rafayel waking up and causing a ruckus over being cuddled by Xavier. God damn he’s loud…

You’re changed now and walk back to the living room, where Caleb is sat on the couch waiting for you.

“Ah! Finally pips! Felt like I was gonna have to search for you in case you had gotten lost!”

He’s honestly adjusted really well to the fact that I’m not the me he knows. I wonder if it’s a facade, I know damn well he cares a great deal for his version of me. STOP THINKING SO NEGATIVELY. DAMN.

Anyways you’re smiling slightly at his words, listening to him yap about what he’s planning to do for his workout, it’s just going in one ear and right out the other if I’m being real.

You leave the apartment and go to the gym that I guess the apartment has? (I’m making things up as I go at this point, things will just appear as I need them too)

He’s doing weights and stuff, you’re struggling to get through his tough workout (I’m crippled sorry gang, if I gotta struggle so do you 💔)

He notices this of course and slows his pace down, eventually stopping and patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey… you don’t need to do this y’know?”

You just sigh and look up at him defeated.

“Does your version of me do this every day? That bitch is ATHLETIC.”

He laughs at you and offers to just help him with his workout I stead, which you joyfully agree to, watching Caleb workout? YES PLEASE.

So now here you are, sat on his back and counting his pushups for him. Huh, suddenly the angst from earlier is gone as you watch his ARMS??? UGHHHH 🤩

He eventually finished that up though (UNFORTUNATELY) and just looks up at you… still on his back, making it just a lil bit hard to get up.

“Pips… you gotta move y’know?- I will just roll you over, you should know this.”

Oh we gotta know what that means.

“Hm? The ground is talking, how strange…”

You’re looking up at the ceiling with an almost expectant grin on your face, which he does not fail to realize. Well you asked for it.

Suddenly he has managed to roll you off him and have you underneath him. Don’t ask the logistics of it, just go with it.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, Christ it was fast— how in the hell did he do that???

He just chuckles and gets off of you, offering a hand out for you to take, which you do and he pulls you up. "l have to say, you don't act all that different, it's easy to forget you're not the same person I've known." OUCH????? OK ANGST IS BACK IG??? He's walking you back up to your apartment, the hand he used to help you up now wrapped around your shoulder "Oh?.. is that... a bad thing?" "I suppose it isn't! It makes you fun to be around!" "Ah okay..." You trail off, you know what you want to ask but... "What happens if you can't get... the other me back?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think to stop them, he almost freezes in his tracks but keeps walking, smile faltering slightly. "I'm... not sure..." "Would you stick around knowing I'm not the person you knew? Or are you just here to get them back?"

He doesn't know how to answer you, because of course he wants his version of you back... but would he just.. leave? He doesn't even know himself. "For now lets not worry about that, okay pips? I'm here now and that's all that really matters, we'll figure everything out eventually" You just nod, looking down and mumbling a small apology... well that's... sad. So anyways you finally make it back to the apartment, and head to your room to grab a basic outfit.

Xavier is STILL asleep- does this mf have narcolepsy??? Whatever, you grab your outfit and turn to go to the bathroom, you need a shower to think again, plus you smell like sweat.

The door to the bathroom is closed when you get there, you knock only to hear Rafayel telling you to come in. You walk in and OH MY STARS-

“OH- sorry didn’t realize you would be IN the bath- I can come back later I’m so sorry-“

He cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

“No no it’s okay, did you need something?”

He’s asking with a slight tilt to his head. Dear gods man he is sculpted like a god, probably because he literally is one- STOP STARING.

You manage to snap yourself out of it, face absolutely red and looking down at the clothes in your hands.

“Sorry I was just trying to shower and get dressed- I can do so later-“

He’s sitting up in the bathtub, motioning for you to come closer.

“You can come bathe with me if you’d like? I don’t mind sharing.”

SIR?????? You are red as a lobster and I fear he is reveling in this fact— HOW IS HE SO CALM ABOUT THIS????

“No- that’s fine I’ll just… see myself out… thanks for the offer though”

You manage to mumble out, looking anywhere but at him and finally turning yer butt around to walk out. You hear him chuckle behind you and call out to you as you shut the door, playful as ever.

“Your loss Mx bodyguard!!”

TEASING MF. Ok anyways we need to find somewhere else to change it seems. So you opt to just shut yourself in the little closet and get changed. Xavier is still asleep in bed, which is kinda cute, he’s out like a ROCK. Honestly and earthquake could pass through and not much would happen I fear.

You wander around the place, Caleb, Zayne and Sylus are all out somewhere, Rafayel is in the bath and Xavier is asleep. There’s… not much to do.

You’re tired though and you slept on the couch, so you find yourself walking over to your room and climbing into bed opposite to Xavier.

You pass right out.

—————————————

Gang I’ll be honest, you could FEEL it falling apart at the end😭‼️

In my defense, it’s almost eight in the morning and I have not slept.

I wrote myself into a bit of a corner too since there’s like… nothing going on ‼️‼️‼️

I also do not know how to write seggsy time so I had to QUICKLY 180 from that.

Anyways I have ideas for another part, if people don’t burn me at the stake for being a crap writer I might add another part to this disaster LMAO

Okok yap session is over, thank you for reading this !! 🤩

Tag list ?!?! (Ask to be added 🤩)

@lunia-likes-pomegranet

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