#does this song have anything to do with Logan??

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard. 

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back. 

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.” 

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?” 

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed. 

Through it all, you stayed. 

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living. 

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers. 

“And if I can’t?” 

“You’ll have to.” 

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.” 

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct. 

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him. 

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him. 

In your dreams, he was alive. 

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura. 

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura. 

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on. 

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan. 

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about. 

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about. 

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret. 

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm. 

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it. 

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you. 

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms. 

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself. 

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right. 

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.” 

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally. 

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears. 

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again. 

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate. 

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head. 

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky. 

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl. 

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly. 

“From my universe,” Logan answers. 

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?” 

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?” 

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself. 

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.” 

My Logan. 

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him. 

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?” 

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.” 

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles. 

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.” 

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes. 

“I’m not him,” he whispers. 

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.” 

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under your roof ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ your baby daughter really likes uncle wade’s roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didn’t form a quick attachment to the two of you as well┊2.9k words; prt one (here), prt two, prt three coming soon!!

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, he’s on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & he’s an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing

➤ author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy

kids don’t like logan. it’s not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. he’s intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though he’s literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isn’t sure, but it’s not the best feeling either way when he’s trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that he’ll never fit in.

it doesn’t help that, in general, he isn’t good with kids either. he’s generally patient with their immaturity since they don’t know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.

moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to “turn that frown upside down” because he was about to meet someone who “puts gordon ramsey to shame.”

the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than he’s ever put into meeting anyone else before.

wade didn’t even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass “daddy’s home!” which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, “do you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?”

“no, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!” your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. “i’ll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.”

“okie-dokie!” he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, “come on, peanut, take off your shoes.” the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps he’s taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).

the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didn’t even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.

“hey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?” he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “do you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!” he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didn’t bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. “okay, you keep her company while i go see what’s for dessert— bye!”

before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom he’s heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.

but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move. 

and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.

“oh no—“ he’s not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldn’t listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didn’t listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.

she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.

“kitty!”

“what?”

she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.

“no— not a kitty!” he’s never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say “kitty” every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.

“no kitty?”

“no— logan, lo-gan.”

she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlier— finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.

he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didn’t want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.

“you’re like a little lemur,” he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasn’t freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldn’t admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldn’t stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by spring’s first touch. 

all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting “that fire” was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.

he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasn’t really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything else.)

“so… any news about her dad?” the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything he’d ever witnessed in his long life.

“... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guess…”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. “like he wants to have a family… just not with the one he already started… he’s busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.”

“oh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!”

“i can’t believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i don’t even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like this— i asked him so many times and he just said that he’s ‘fallen out of love,’ has ‘moved on,’ and that i would ‘be cruel’ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our child…”

“well if it’s any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with him— i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldn’t adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! ”

“it’s fine,” you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. “it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, i’ll take care of her myself— wait… didn’t i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?”

“no, he’s in the living room, he’s been here this entire time,” he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.

“and you didn’t tell me?!!!” you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. “hi! oh, i’m so sorry i didn’t come to greet you properly— and left my daughter for you to look after too— god, i’m just a terrible host!” you tilted your head, “what’s your name?”

he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. “i-i’m logan,” he managed to sputter, “nice to meet you..”

wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face. 

“aww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old man— come to mommy, it’s dinnertime,” you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. “oh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter… logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?”

“yes, of course.”

you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didn’t need to be a telepath to know. 

“if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“good, keep it that way.”

love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. it’s even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses up— just you as yourself to the core.

“alright, bub, let's get you seated…” it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon he’s ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude. 

“sorry it isn’t anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first place….”

“oh, no, it’s perfect—”

“you’re damn right ‘it’s perfect!’” wade interjected, “lemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well you’ve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!”

“well, now that you say it like that, he’s going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish he’s ever had.”

“he likes ass, don’t worry—”

the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. “it’s delicious, thank you, truly the best i’ve ever tasted.”

“aw, you don’t have to say that.”

“no, he’s right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!”

the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something he’s been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he can’t help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderful— something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.

“well, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. there’s some wine and beer in—” you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. “alrighty then, i’ll join you two in a bit.”

he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girls’ sleepover. “okay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesn’t like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning supplies—”

“she wouldn’t want an asshole like me,” he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. “not when she just got free from another one.”

“peanut, i met the other guy, you’re infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that i’m your wingman, okay? don’t lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does too—”

“no, she doesn’t.”

“quit cutting me off, you motherfucker!”

it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didn’t want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldn’t be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently. 

and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday. 

maybe he won’t let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.

[ovaryacted]

GUARD DOG

─ Logan Howlett/Wolverine x fem! reader || WC: 5.0k

SYNOPSIS: On another one of your joint club outings with Wade, your boyfriend Logan stands by to make sure you enjoy your night. Once you both arrive at your apartment, he tends to your needs and helps you relax.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Established Relationship. Age gap implied [Logan is his canon age, Reader is mid to late 20's]. Alcohol consumption. Kissing. Unprotected P in V. Shower sex. Fingering (f receiving). Manhandling. Biting/Marking Kink. Size Kink if you squint. Mutual fantasies of public sex. Worst!/Variant! Logan Howlett. Grumpy! Logan in public, soft! Logan in private. Wade is the third wheel who drinks for fun but can't get drunk (obvi). Descriptions of the reader's clothing (mini skirt & skimpy top). Reader is shorter than Logan in heels. Logan can pick the reader up.

A/N: Lord this was a pain in the ass to write for absolutely no reason, but I am glad it's done. Big shoutouts and thank yous to @ozarkthedog and @pedgito for reading this over and encouraging me. And also thank you to @zloshy and @studioghibelli for holding my hand and helping me out with the brainstorming process. As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

To this day, Logan doesn’t know why he still puts up with Wade’s shit or agrees to his antics. But he doesn’t mind doing it so long as it keeps his eccentric friend off his back and keeps you happy.

The club he was brought to was loud, the air thick with the pungent stench of weed, and he swears he could distinctly sniff out cocaine in the bathrooms, irritating his nose. Bright strobe lights strained his vision, and the obnoxious pop music vibrating through the walls was anything but pleasing to his sensitive ears. Thankfully, the bar had Jack Daniels on the shelf, enough to do the job and keep himself busy.

He raises his arm to lean against the bar, sipping away at his fourth cup of whiskey, knowing that the buzz he feels will go away as quickly as it hits him. Adept eyes scanned the club, landing on your figure as you danced to the current song.

Logan admired the sway of your hips, the mini skirt you wore riding up your thighs with every pop and swivel. The low-cut top you paired it with shifted when your arms rose to the beat change, the open back showing more than enough skin to leave to the imagination. He could taste the light sheen of sweat from your neck at a distance, amplifying your natural pheromones that elevated the perfume you sprayed on earlier.

He did what he did best. He watched. Even with his dominating presence, he was hyper-aware of the other men who stood by prowling like hawks, stalking their prey and waiting for the best moment to attack. Wade was enough to keep you safe during your joint club outings, but now that he was with you, Logan ensured you made it home every night.

You were smart and vigilant, always were before you met him. But Logan was familiar with the instinctive behavior of men, especially men like him. Ill-tempered. Selfish. Prone to arguments and have an affinity to attract trouble. He knows what they were all thinking, creating mental checklists of what tricks they’d use to guarantee you went home with them instead. Countless fantasies of their hands feeling you up, touching you in ways that Logan was allowed to, in a way only he could.

His heart thumped in his ribs at the thought. The innate possession he felt towards you flared as he impatiently wiped his hand over the dark denim of his jeans, ignoring the growing itch to claw the next fucker that thought about coming within six feet of you.

You could hold your own; you’ve told him more than enough times that he didn’t need to stand by and monitor your every move. Yet he does it without hesitation, refusing to give anyone else a chance to breathe you in or get close enough to touch what was his. 

Wade waltzes to the bar and orders another martini, glancing at Logan and contorting his neck to peek at you dancing with a blissful smile.

“Having fun, Wolvie?” he asks, grin widening as his lips envelop the thin straw in his drink, slurping it up like a refreshing cup of water. 

“You know the answer to that,” Logan mutters, finishing the rest of his amber liquid in one gulp before tapping the cup on the bar countertop and asking for a refill. The bartender flashes him a look of concern, receiving a flick of Wade’s hand and topping off the glass.

“You’re five drinks in. Quit being so fucking grumpy,” Wade sneers, detecting someone walking in their direction. “Now flip that frown upside down, Logie bear. Our girl is coming over, and I don’t need you getting your panties in a twist because you’re moody.”

Logan rolled his eyes before spotting you striding to him, standing in front of the burly man with a hazy smile. He noticed the multitude of heads that turned to follow your direction, tracking you with every step you took toward the deviant pair. A low whistle seized his attention, Logan’s head rapidly spun at the sound to find its source and nip it in the bud. The growl settling in the back of his throat simmered down once your soft hand touched his chest, grounding him to you.

“Hey, old man.” Even in heels, you still couldn’t reach him face-to-face, smirking when his thick arm wrapped around your waist to bring you closer. “Enjoyed the show?”

“The music in here fucking sucks, but I can’t complain too much,” Logan’s lips hovered over the shell of your ear, lowering his voice as he spoke. “You were my favorite part.”

“Oh, you weren’t looking at the girl in the cocktail dress? I don’t know, her dress was real short.” The corner of his mouth curled up, challenging your statement that feigned any truth. Giggling, you clutched his bicep, the alcohol loosening your tongue to speak more bluntly. You pivoted to spot Wade, who watched you both from afar in animated shock.

“Problem?”

“Sorry, honey. I just can’t stand seeing the two of you be all touchy-feely in front of me. It’s very disturbing.” Wade finished his martini, ordering a margarita and explicitly asking for a tiny umbrella. “I hate that you took my spot. Creeping in like a slut into a happy home and snatching my man away.”

Ever since Wade had introduced you to Logan almost a year ago, it had been an instant connection he got front-row seats to witness. He was excited when he finally compelled Logan to go to the club you both frequented, recalling how he raked his eyes over you when you weren’t looking. It was only a matter of time before you left the club with Logan one night, and Wade met him at the front door the following day like a disappointed parent acknowledging his walk of shame. 

All jokes aside, considering the pair he just unleashed into the world, he would believe himself to be the city’s most qualified and successful cupid.

“Can’t call me a homewrecker if there was no home to wreck, sweetie,” you shrugged, hearing Logan’s dry chuckle.

“Sure, whatever. But you should be thanking me, you know? You get to have those big, meaty hands on you all the time. Not to mention you get to fuck him and actually see his d-”

“Wilson.” Logan’s voice cut him off, causing Wade to murmur under his breath. You fronted the brunette, messing with the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t be mean to him. He’s right. I do have the happy privilege of fucking you all the time.” Your glossy lips hypnotized Logan, his hand kneading your rear as he caught your breathless laugh again. He’ll never fully admit it, but he’s always loved your lack of filter when you had a little bit to drink. You were funny and engaging without needing the extra boost, but something about you being openly vulgar made his blood flow south.

“That you do.” His ego blazes inside him, leaning forward to kiss you in the club for the first time that night.

You happily accepted it with a pleased hum, tasting the Jack he’d been drinking and exchanging the flavor of vodka still on your tongue. Your fingers clutched at his jacket, body pulsing with need as the alcohol in your system beelined straight to your clit. Audible gagging noises pushed you to draw away from Logan, your drunken sight landing on the culprit.

“Oh, am I interrupting you guys? I told you to give me a PDA warning next time before you start getting freaky, otherwise I’m joining,” Wade taunted, getting a scoff from you and an irritated grunt from his friend.

“How about we share another drink? Will you forgive me then, Wadey?” You flapped your lashes at him, his wrinkly skin creasing to mimic your gleeful appearance.

“Fine, but only because you know how to sweet talk me. Tequila?” Your optimistic nod motivated him to order another round of shots for the two of you to down. You felt a gentle squeeze on your arm, meeting Logan’s gaze and silent questioning. Can you handle drinking more?

“Just a few more, and we’ll go, okay?” You stroked his chin, kissing the corner of his jaw in reassurance. He asked to test your senses, only intervening to stop if you were too far gone to speak to him. Unlike him, he wants you to keep your liver intact.

“Alright. But the second he starts offering you shit to snort, we’re leaving.”

“I would do no such thing!” Wade dramatically reacts, offering two tequila shots while holding some of his own. “Besides, I don’t need our precious darling over here fucking up her pretty nose. She needs that thing to smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

With another laugh, you swallowed the shot of clear liquid, inhaling a hiss and consuming the next, sucking on the lime to reset your tastebuds. Your body warmed with a buzz from the drink, an electric shock coursing through your veins as it roused you. 

“C’mon, sugarplum, you owe me a dance.” You didn’t have time to waste as Wade dragged you to the dance floor, throwing Logan a flirty wave and joining your mutual friend. The Wolverine returned to his position, manning his post and sipping on the remaining liquid in his glass. He kept tallies on the wandering eyes that gravitate to you, fighting the urge to rip out every single one.

He’ll keep the peace for your sake. You were already his, you’ve been his ever since you took him home and made him stay the night. What more did he have to prove?

It was nearing two in the morning when you finally decided to call it a night. By now, the heels on your feet started slipping, and your footing grew unsteady when you attempted to walk to the bathroom. You held your bearings long enough for Logan to call a cab home after buying some greasy food for you to eat, shooing Wade once he said he was stopping by Vanessa’s.

Logan’s touch was constant the entire way home, skimming your thigh and lower back in the cab, responding to every one of your little mumbles to keep you awake until you arrived at your apartment. Getting you out of the backseat was another hassle he was familiar with, aiding you to stand up straight without accidentally exposing yourself. The best solution he came up with was carrying you inside, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he held you steady and trekked inside the apartment complex.

He didn’t mind the faint squeezes of your arms or the clenches of your thighs around his waist. You were calm, safe, and happy, mindlessly humming in the crook of his neck as he eased his way through the front door. Strong arms entrapped you as the familiar walls of your bedroom filled your vision, Logan placing you on the edge of your bed with a huff of breath.

“I’m gonna get you a cup of water. Alright?” Logan’s hazel eyes met yours, taking in your feeble nod.

“Okay,” voice light and airy, you patiently waited for Logan to return as promised. Within a minute, he had a tall glass of cold water in his hand, a few ice cubes floating at the top.

“Open up. Need you to drink some of this for me.” Heeding his command, you sipped the refreshing beverage, soothing your parched throat. You got halfway down the glass before he drew the cup away, placing it on the bedside table for later.

“Let’s get these heels off now,” Logan suggested next, descending to his knees and bending his leg to raise your foot on his thigh, messing with the straps tied to your ankles.

“Yes, please. They’re fucking killing me.”

He chuckled as you wiggled your foot at him, allowing his thick fingers to unclasp the buckle that held your heels together. Peeling one of the shoes off and dropping it to the floor, he loosened the other, the heel falling to the ground with an audible thud.

Strong hands held your right foot by the ankle and gently twisted it, stretching the tendon after a long night out and doing the same to the left. You whizzed contently at the touch, the devoted rubs of his thumbs and forefingers massaging your feet after hours of dancing never failed to make you feel better. Before you started dating him, you underestimated Logan’s capacity to be affectionate, but he eventually got the hang of things once your relationship grew more steady. 

Sure, he had been alive a long time, you got that warning from Wade prior to meeting Logan. But once you cracked through that tough exterior, you developed a soft spot for the man buried under all that trauma.

“Always so nice to me yet grumpy with everyone else,” you said, running a hand through his hair as he stayed on his knees.

“You’re saying you don’t like special treatment?” he teased, the look in his eye heating your belly. He caressed your shin, drawing circles over your skin as you watched him.

“Never said that. Like it too much sometimes,” he stood up, kissing the top of your head and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands.

“Let’s take those clothes off and get you in something less skimpy.”

“Already? You didn’t tell me anything about my skimpy outfit. Thought you liked it…” you feigned a pout, and Logan raised a curious eyebrow.

“You look good, you always do. I told you that before we left.” He loomed over you, a shiver rushing down your spine when his musk surrounded you. His hands were at either side of your hips, palms resting on the mattress as he observed you.

“I like it when you get all dolled up for me.” One of his knuckles moved to graze your bare forearm, the hair on your skin rising from the goosebumps that followed. “Hate that everyone else gets to look, though.”

“You did good tonight. Didn’t claw anybody in the ribs.” You were only half joking, but you knew it wasn’t such a farfetched idea for him to do just that. All it took was one guy to come too close, and Logan’s knuckles were splitting to unsheath the blades embedded between them.

“Trust me, I was thinking it.”

“I know you were. Still happy you didn’t, so thank you for that.” You held his cheek and tenderly kissed him. “Now take my clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Logan tugged your mini skirt down your legs, tossing it to the floor. Your top was next, lifting your arms so he could pull it up from your torso, leaving your top half bare. He leaned back to take you in, raking his eyes over your uncovered figure. You were only clad in the lace black thong he noticed earlier when you were getting dressed, the thin piece of fabric doing nothing to conceal what he knew lay underneath.

“You’re staring again.” Your voice brought him to reality, a dry hum being his response.

“You don’t usually complain when I do,” he noted, growing more cocky at the uptick of the subdued tension between you.

“Because I like it when you look at me, smartass.” You held him by the fabric of the white tee hiding under his jacket, hands roaming over the expanse of his chest and stomach, messing with the metal of his belt buckle.

“Seems like you want something…” Logan hungrily watched as your legs spread wider to accommodate for his thicker ones between them, lingering to pounce on you.

“Want you to fuck me.” A rich groan tumbled out of Logan when you yanked him down for a kiss, chasing his tongue with your own and biting his bottom lip. His large hands skate over your thighs, textured fingers pinching your hip to keep you in place. Pulling his head away, he exhaled out of his nose, lightly grazing the tip of it against yours.

“Not until we shower. You smell like Wade and tequila.” He walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower, messing with the knobs to get the searing temperature you liked and coming to capture your dumbfounded expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” You shouldn’t be surprised. Though you think he was just finding more ways to get you to sober up.

“Very. I don’t need you smelling like him in bed. I want you to smell like you.”

Rising to your feet, you entered the bathroom and bent down to peel your thong off. Holding the last piece of clothing by the tip of your finger, you flung it to Logan, swaying your hips with an added flare as you stepped under the showerhead. The steaming water hit your aching body, comforting your sore legs from standing on an arch for so long. 

You heard shuffling from the other side of the glass barrier, enjoying the feel of the scalding spray as burly arms encircled your midriff, holding you loosely by the waist. Turning to face Logan, he eyed you with a softness reserved only when you were alone, your love worming its way into his cold heart and chipping away at the frozen bits and pieces over time.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted yet from how hot this water is,” Logan jested, pressing yourself closer and gliding your fingers over his torso.

“You’ll get used to it,” you brushed his comment off, his rough fingertips coasting down your back, much softer than how he handled you in the club. “You’re the one that likes showering with me anyway.”

“Course I do, but I’ll never know how you tolerate this. You sure you aren’t the mutant here?” You lightly slapped his sternum, petting his skin with a shake of your head.

Logan maintained the scorching temperature of the shower stream as he held your chin with his forefinger and thumb, bending forward to kiss you, slow and passionate as it always was. You reached for his broad shoulders, opening your mouth to welcome his tongue, the muscle curling around yours with ease.

Maneuvering to pin you to the tiled wall, your hands ran up to the nape of his neck, driving your fingers through his wet hair as you sought more of his touch. Logan parted from you, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw and neck, biting at the skin. Your breathing grew more sporadic, desire surging through you and flourishing between your thighs.

“Logan, please,” you were already begging for more, and he hadn’t done anything prevalent yet. Even with the alcohol slowly ebbing away, your arousal intensified, and a desperate craving for his attention overwhelmed you.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweetheart,” he commanded, his tongue rolling down to your clavicle, sucking a mark into the side of your neck for you to uncover in the morning.

“Need you to touch me.” Unabashedly, you took one of his hands by the wrist, spreading your thighs to position it where you needed him most. His fingers quickly found your pussy, drenched and crying out for his touch. The tips of his pointer and middle fingers drifted up to your sensitive nub, twitching under the initial rubs he delivered.

“Yeah? Need me to make you feel good, sugar?” Logan’s ego continued to ascend as he observed the expressions on your face, your eyebrows furrowing when his digits plunged into your aching hole.

“Been like this for a while, hm?” The smooth timbre of his voice spurred you on, directing his free hand to hold the bottom of your thigh, raising it to his hip and keeping it in place.

“Since you kissed me in the club.” Your confession fell over his lips, nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving crescent indents in their wake. “Wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom.”

A deep moan rumbled in Logan’s chest at your words, crooking his fingers into that spot tucked at the roof of your entrance. You whined loudly at the touch, tossing your head back against the tile behind you and clenching hard around his thick digits.

“Next time. All you gotta do is bring me there, and I’ll fuck you over the sink.”

You couldn’t help but envision what it would be like to follow through on Logan’s proposal. How he’d pursue the imprint of your natural scent, mixing in with the aroma of your perfume that emanated off of you in waves. His lips would make a path over your shoulder and neck, leaving teeth marks for the club members to see after he was done with you. His fingers would wrap around your throat as he fucked you against the counter of the bathroom sink, forcing you to look at your reflection as you took him from behind.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks in dark smudges, your lip gloss fading and leaving a ring on the base of his cock from when you sucked him off, his cum dribbling down your thighs while he grabs your torn underwear and stuffs them into his pocket. And once you’ve both had your fun, you’d take his hand and stroll out of the bathroom with a smile, proudly flaunting Logan’s claim for everyone to acknowledge who you belonged to.

He was focused on the dives of his fingers inside your cunt, concentrated pulses to your g-spot and sneakily adding his thumb to the mix to press into your clit. Your half-lidded eyes glanced at him, the tell-tale signs of your upcoming orgasm creeping up and building in your gut. Logan could sense it too, the increase in your heart rate and the pulsing of your walls signaled that you were getting close, desperately seeking that release he could give you.

“I know you’re close.” He picked up the pace of his fingers, punctuating his thrusts to work in a third digit to stretch you out properly, the circles on your bundle of nerves becoming relentless. “Come for me, darlin’. C’mon, let me feel it.”

Trained like a dog to obey his command, your climax hit you with force, the strained rope of tension snapping and shooting relief up your spine. Gripping at the nape of his neck, the moan you emitted resounded through the bathroom as your thighs quivered from Logan’s ministrations. The slick walls of your pussy convulsed around him, giving you a few more pumps with his fingers before he took them out, watching in a daze as he licked them to taste your slick with a satisfied grumble.

“Always taste so damn sweet,” Logan remarked, letting you taste yourself on his tongue with another kiss. The hard length of his cock twitched over your lower belly, the ache of being empty overwhelming your senses.

“You can take a little more right, princess?” It was a genuine question, analyzing your energy levels after a long night out. But you craved to feel Logan the best way you knew how, nodding your head at the thought of feeling him deep inside where he belonged.

“Want you, please,” you implored, large hands grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you from the ground, Logan’s strong hold keeping you upright on the wall. The tip of his cock bumped against your opening, your arms wrapping around his neck as he positioned himself.

“Hold on to me.” You did as he said, mewling in pleasure as he sank into your waiting cunt.

You welcomed him without resistance, his legs and forearms flexing to hold you up as he drove his hips forward until he was down to the hilt. A whimper wormed its way out of your mouth once Logan was tucked snug inside you, the tip of him hitting depths only he could reach. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feel of him, legs wound tighter as you adjusted to him.

“That’s it. Exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Logan confirmed with a grin, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing you in. He concentrated on the way your wet heat enveloped him so well, pussy molded to take him like that was your purpose.

Leaning more into your embrace, he began to move, shifting his hips to dive into you just the way you liked. Deep and even thrusts sent you reeling into ecstasy, your toes coiling as he persisted in his consistent pistoning.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cried out at his movements, the upright position Logan had you in propelled the tip of his cock to hit the roof of your entrance with rehearsed accuracy. Your clit came in contact with the hair at the base of his length, the delicious friction adding to the amplified sensations.

“Feel so good. Fucking warm and wet. Shit.” He rambled against your throat, both of his big hands cupping your ass and keeping you secure as he fucked up into you.

Logan used his strength to bounce you on top of him in time with his jabs, heavy balls smacking into you as he picked up the pace and chased his release. You tightened again, nails biting into the taut skin of his shoulders and raking down, drawing a noisy groan out of the man from the pain. His skin reddened with the streaks you left behind, mending together as his regenerative powers healed him in seconds, removing any evidence of your marks.

“Logan, need it, need you. Please.” He understood what you were asking for, the pounding of his hips getting sloppier on your instruction. “Want you to fill me up…”

“Cum again for me and I will. Fill your pussy up the way you need.”

He wasn’t asking. Your deft fingers went up to his hair and gave him a harsh yank, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, meshing your mouth with his. Logan panted a breath and followed with a hiss at the slight ache, the urge to fill you up awakening the most primal parts of him.

Your climax washed over you abruptly, mouth positioned in a silent scream as you unravel underneath Logan. He whispered words of praise in your ear, prolonging your orgasm for as long as he could. Your walls flexed and spasmed around him, soft cries morphing into helpless whimpers with every fierce buck of his wide hips. Molten pleasure surged down his back, and his hands sought purchase on your body, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

“Fuck,” Logan rasped into your skin, stifling his growl with a sharp bite to your neck. The blunt ends of his teeth dug into you, hard enough to tear at your flesh that bloomed into bright red and will fade to purple.

With a few more lunges, he burrowed himself deep inside, painting your walls with his spend and claiming you like he always has. Your legs tensed around his abdomen, making sure to keep him safely tucked and not let a single drop go to waste. You slumped against him, head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder as he littered soft kisses over the marks he left behind in a muted apology. 

“Better now?” he asked, carefully bringing you to stand on the ground, keeping his hold on your hips in case your wobbly legs gave out.

“Mhm. Much better.” You nodded, offering him a kiss and enjoying the aftermath of your respective highs. The carnal appetite you felt earlier dimmed down to manageable levels now that you got what you wanted.

“Good,” Logan reciprocated your delicate kisses, doing what he could to calm and prep you for bed. He knows you could theoretically go for another round, but your exhaustion was palpable. He’d have to make up for it in the morning.

He took your loofah and body wash, pouring the liquid over the net fabric and scrubbing at your figure. He washed you meticulously, rinsing off the suds, and you returned the favor by cleansing him too. Your scents interlaced together as you washed each other, a smile sneaking up on Logan’s face at the realization.

After the shower, Logan did the honors of drying you off, rubbing you down with lotion, and grabbing a baggy dark T-shirt to dress you in. You brushed your teeth as he searched for his sweatpants, alternating between using the sink until you were both ready to end your night.

You eased into the mattress first, tugging the duvet to the side for Logan to follow you and lay on his back. Instinctively, you cuddled into his side once he made room for you, throwing an arm across his chest and lifting your leg to bend comfortably over his thigh.

“You’re gonna make me breakfast, right?” you questioned sleepily over his shoulder, familiar with the post-coitus routine he established in your relationship. In a few hours, you’ll find him making pancakes in the kitchen, or he’ll be under the sheets between your legs again. Either way, it’ll be a good start to your day so long as he’s the first thing you see when the sun beams through the bedroom window.

“I’ll think about it.” Jabbing at his ribs in mock retaliation, you closed your eyes and listened to the distant sounds of the city filling the room, soothing you to sleep.

“Love you, baby. “ You’ll doze off before you hear his reply, nuzzling into his body and chasing the stability and comfort of your personal weighted blanket and heater.

He waited until your breathing evened out and your heart rate leveled, beating on par with his. Giving you a side glance, you were fast asleep, embracing Logan like a teddy bear. Pressing one final kiss to your forehead, he watched you sleep for a while longer, stroking your backbone and holding you close.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics.

[thinkinonsense]

WORK SONG❀

old!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: fluff, some angst/sadness, a line or two that could be nsfw

wc: 500+

a/n: this idea has haunted me for days now. also, we need more old logan fics!! 2029 logan is so hot and no one wants to talk about it.

part two here

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

Logan didn't understand why you stayed with him. He can't give you the life you deserve and it kills him because he knows you won't leave for your own good. There were times when Charles would even tell you to run, it broke your heart to see them both suffering.

Logan always commented that you needed to be with someone your age, someone without so much baggage, someone not as dangerous as him. Yet, you stuck around through everything; taking care of Charles and Logan after he's had a rough day.

Truth be told, you were content with your life. Logan made you happy and made you feel important. He provided what he could but you knew he was hurting. His life was far more complicated than you imagined but you were determined to ease it for him.

There were nights when you would wait for him to come home from work. He hated it when you would do that; mumbling into your neck about how you should be resting.

"Couldn't sleep without you, Lo..." You would yawn, wrapping your arms around his sore body.

"Let's get you to bed, princess." He says, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom.

The only time he could completely relax was in the early morning hours when your sleeping body rested on top of his; as close together as humanly possible. He felt so full of love when you looked at him. Logan felt selfish by keeping you isolated here but god, does he adore you.

On the rare occasion, Logan gets a day off, you make a whole day of it. The two of you would stay in bed all morning. When you would get up to check on Charles, you would slip on one of Logan's shirts from the night before. By noon there would be a cherry pie in the oven and a bottle of scotch on the table. You pull out his favorite cigars while he keeps you glued to his lap. He didn't need anything other than you.

Sometimes Logan would joke that your kisses give him toothaches because you're too sweet for him. You would blush and playfully slap his chest.

At dinner, he would stare at you from across the table while you talked with Charles. If Logan didn't know better, he would've sworn he dreamt you up; some figment of his imagination.

You took care of him any way that you could; kissing his bloody knuckles before wrapping them up, washing his hair when he was too tired to move. He would come home a mess some days yet you never questioned what caused it. When Laura entered your life, you didn't need an explanation. She would be cared for the same as Charles and Logan. You didn't care what he had done as long as he returned home at night.

Logan knew he didn't have much time left. He was falling apart in ways he would never let you see. The more he thought about dying, the less he cared what the afterlife had in store for him because you were his heaven.

No grave would hold him down. Logan was sure to crawl home to you.

[sacredsorceress]

Meet Cute with Logan Would Include... || Wolverine Headcanons

pairing: logan howlett (wolverine) x mutant!f!reader summary: you're a new teacher at the school and logan is interested in you from your first meeting a/n: i'm admittedly projecting with the fact that reader teaches history but just a little blurb because logan's been on my mind and i need to get work done <33 lmk if you want me to make this into an actual fic!! warnings: none, all fluff

masterlist | inbox | tip jar (ko-fi)

when you first arrive at the school as a teacher (and late blooming mutant) charles introduces you to logan

logan has a typical scowl on his face and glances at you up and down

so you begin to worry that you've worn the wrong outfit or presented yourself poorly and now an infamous wolverine dig is about to be thrown your way

but instead, he takes a puff of his cigar, and looks back at charles

"you have a rule about only recruiting good-looking teachers or something?"

and what an array of relief (and butterflies) do you get from that

"yes, very funny, logan. however, y/n here has a phd. I've brought her on to teach the students"

"yeah? and what's your "gift"?" (mutation)

he has a coy look on his face

"oh logan, that's a bit personal..." you said with faux seriousness. "buy me a drink first."

for the first time, you saw him smile. a chuckle reverberated in his chest.

"fair enough."

after that interaction charles escorted you out of the room but as you went, logan's eyes were trained on you.

intrigued, he took another puff of his cigar and smiled to himself.

on your first night there, once all the children have gone to sleep and all the adults have gone to their own rooms for the night you hear a knock on your door.

and guess who it is?

you hate to admit it but god, does he look so hot and suave standing in your doorway.

logan's hair is in a typical mess and his flannel has a few more buttons undone than it did this morning,

and although he's rough around the edges and not as necessarily openly friendly as the others, he exudes confidence- especially as he leans against your doorframe.

"you said i owed you a drink."

although he takes you to the diviest dive bar in town, you have such a good time.

after a little bit of awkwardness, the two of you found your footing and you end up talking (flirting) for hours

well, in actuality, you do most of the talking but boy does he like listening to you talk and watching your eyes light up while you laugh at some of your own stories

on the way back to the mansion, he opens the car door for you

"thank you."

"don't mention it" (he's blushing a little)

on the ride back he tries to be as smooth as possible, one arm draped over the passenger seat while the other rests on the steering wheel

he keeps taking quick glances at you as you hum along to the song on the radio and even though you just met he's already thinking about how he could get used to this

he walks you back to your room and as much as he wants to make another move (and you do too) he doesn't want to mess up your relationship before its even started

i mean, you're living in the same place?? what happens if you don't like it?? and you end up hating him?? now his suave demeanor has crumbled under the weight of realising this is actually real and not a game

"I'll.. uh... be down the hall if you need me."

"thanks, logan" you smile softly and he thinks its the first time anyone's done that in over a decade and meant it

when he starts walking down the hall, you call out in a whisper

"oh and logan!" you pause. "sweet dreams."

before he can say anything the door of your bedroom shuts

a stupid, silly grin coats his face so big that he rubs his hand across his cheeks in fear anyone would catch the big bad wolverine becoming a softie for the teacher he's got the hots for

although you've just met, you've got him wrapped around your finger and he can barely believe it

shoving his hands in his pocket, logan shakes his head and laughs on the way to his own bedroom

"fuck."

[no-144444]

his disgraced pop princess- (o.piastri 81)

-------------------

-------------------

summary: oscar is there for you through your first real GP weekend

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! reader

warnings: cyberbullying ans slut shaming

-------------------

Oscar Piastri was nervous. It had been two days since he first met you, and now it had been 4 hours since he last texted you. Beside him, Logan was scrolling on his own phone, still making fun of Oscar’s ‘awful puppy-love’, as he called it. It wasn’t awful, just slightly overboard. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and he was enjoying it. You were funny, sweet, and probably just busy, right? 

Oscar: Doing anything else today? I’m stuck training all day. 

Oscar: Studio…? 

Oscar: I think the fans need new music (it’s me, I’m fans)

-------------------

You were anxious. It had been two days since you met Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri, and now he’d texted you multiple times while you were busy being on a plane. Beside you in the Uber, was Hallie, your best friend, texting her new mystery boy and laughing at your freak out over not texting him back. You two had been texting non-stop since the race, and you loved it. He was asking all the right questions, he was funny, he was so supportive of you going up against Charles, and evidently, a screenager. 

“I feel bad!” you groaned as you tried to type something out, but nothing seemed good enough. 

“You were on a plane, what was he expecting, a carrier pigeon?” she chuckled. “He’ll survive without texting you for 4 hours, calm down.”

“What do I say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Give me the damn phone.”

You: Sorry I was on a plane and their carrier pigeon network was down. Oops :)

“He is diabolical,” she laughed. “Immediate response, does he not have a life?”

You rolled your eyes and snatched back the phone. “Shut up!”

Oscar: Too bad, I was hoping you were busy making new music :(

You: Well, I’d need inspiration for that and that is the one thing I don’t have. Well, that and people that like me and want to listen to my music.

Oscar: :( 

Oscar: What are you doing today?

Y/n: Lawyers, seeing Charles, helping put the case together and finishing up the legal side of my split from the band. Aka boring as fuck :)

Oscar: Good luck seeing Charles again, I hope it isn’t too bad.

Oscar: Whenever we’re on the same continent again we should meet up for dinner :)

Y/n: Sounds like a plan, and thank you. Good luck with training today :)

“You two deserve each other. You’re equally as cheesy,” Hallie rolled her eyes. 

“It’s not cheesy to like someone,” you scoffed, getting out of the car. “You’re just alone.”

“Not anymore,” she chuckled. 

“Shut up!” you cheered. “Who?”

She smirked. “Tell you later.”

You rolled your eyes. “You suck.”

“I’ll see you later,” she called as she walked off. You were left standing alone. Before walking in, you took a deep breath and willed yourself not to burst into tears. 

-------------------

“It’s defamation!” Charles shouted, making you jump. Everything he did was making you jump. You hadn’t realised how badly everything had affected you until today. You were jumpy, you felt sick, you weren’t sleeping, you weren’t there mentally. 

“No, you’ve defamed Ms. Y/l/n’s reputation,” your lawyer calmly pointed out. 

You wanted it to stop, you wanted everything to stop. You wanted to go back to Sunday and relive the race over and over again. You wanted to be with Lewis again, with Toto again, with Oscar again. You desperately wanted to feel safe. 

Your lawyer was good, and you knew you’d win the case against Charles no matter what, but cleaning up the band would be a big undertaking. You’d always been the one to sign documents for all of them, so that they could pull out at any time. That now meant that you were technically the owner of the name of the band, the licensing rights, the songs, and the money you’d all already made. You were hitting them where it hurts, and you were taking it all. If they wanted to push you out, you’d push them right back. 

“Y/n, come on. It’s all of our band, and we deserve our name, at least,” your brother, Alex, begged. Up to last week you would’ve done anything for him. Now, he was fucking dead to you. 

“You can keep one thing,” you answered, not even looking at them. They prematurely celebrated and thanked you, but you held up a hand to silence them. “You can keep your instruments. I’ll take everything else.”

The room erupted into shouting, from every member of the band. You just got up and walked away. The meeting was over. You had it all. 

-------------------

BREAKING NEWS! WINGS BAND MEMBER Y/N Y/L/N DELETES INSTAGRAM, IS SEEN WITH F1 DRIVER OSCAR PIASTRI,  AND IS PHOTOGRAPHED LEAVING A LAW FIRM!

The 22 year old singer, Y/n Y/l/n is fresh into the scene of being a solo artist after being dropped by her band ‘WINGS’. This weekend she was seen around the Silverstone paddock with long-time friend and possible boyfriend, Lewis Hamilton. Shockingly, the newly crowned ‘Queen of Homewrecking’ is also sticking her nose into another man, Australian driver Oscar Piastri. The pair were seen walking together in the paddock, looking quite close. We would advise him to steer clear of her mess if he was able… 

In another turn of events, Y/l/n decided to delete her entire Instagram page, as well as her Twitter, Tiktok, Threads, and all other social media accounts. While she has opted for a ‘social-media-break’, her close friends and family have not posted about her, but some more famous friends have, including Lewis Hamilton answering questions about her in an interview during the Media day of the British Gran Prix. When asked about his opinion on the band, he said this. 

“Y’know, half of the success of them (WINGS) was Y/n. She really pulled everything together and no one really sees that because she was so careful about showing people that. She never wanted anyone to feel like they (the rest of the band) weren’t 100% committed, because at that time, they were. It’s just sad how people turn on each other, especially after everything she’s done for them.”

And when asked about Charles O’Brien, he had this to say. 

“That pathetic piece of s**t can f**k off and get out of the paddock. There is no place for him here, on any stage, or anywhere in the world. He is a vile creature.”

In other news, she was seen exiting the Law firm, Cravath, Swaine & Moore this afternoon, and 40 minutes later, the rest of the ‘WINGS’ band was seen leaving, looking much more upset than her. 

Something tells us there might be more than meets the eye in this twisted tale…

-------------------

“Hey Y/n,” Oscar’s voice was music to your ears as you sat in your hotel room with dried tears on your cheeks. 

“Hi,” you answered, voice hoarse, just happy to not be alone anymore. 

“How did it go?” He asked, his voice softening. 

You scoffed. “As badly as I thought it would,” you sighed, defeated. “I just wish it would all stop.” 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he sighed. “Charles is a special breed of dickhead.”

“So is the media,” you added. “Did you see the stuff everyone is writing about me? It’s awful-”

“I don’t read about you. I don’t need it anymore. I have the real you now, and that’s the you I’m interested in.” 

Oscar ‘perfect’ Piastri strikes again. 

Your lips broke into a smile. “Thanks Oscar.”

“I mean it. I don’t give a shit about the media, like at all,” he was smiling, you could tell. 

“I’m glad. If you did I don’t think this friendship could’ve worked very well,” you chuckled. “You seriously don’t care that I’m a ‘homewrecking slut’, according to everyone else?”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Your heart swelled. 

-------------------

It had been a few months, Oscar had gotten his first win, you’d wanted to personally kill Zak Brown, you’d gone through the beginnings of the court proceedings for the band things, and you’d finally filed a report against Charles. 

Now, you were in London on your way to Abbey Road Studios. New music for the first time in a few months. First time you’d sung in a few months. Oscar walked beside you, his head covered in a hat to remain inconspicuous. 

You stopped outside the door. Oscar took your hand and pushed the door open for you, then led you in. 

“You’re here for a reason,” he reminded you with a squeeze to the hand. 

The past few months had been emotional to say the least. Yet, Oscar had been there for you the entire time. He truly didn’t care about the press. He liked you. He liked you a lot. You liked him. You liked him a lot. But you two weren’t dating, right? You didn't really know. Friends didn't hold hands, or cuddle, and usually weren't there for you before you make the biggest leap of your life.

He stayed beside you as you walked through the building, getting the grand tour from an employee, only leaving you when you finally went in to record. 

“You’ve got this,” he whispered, holding you in a tight hug. Inside was your manager, Ursula, and your producer Axel. “I believe in you.”

And those 4 words gave you the courage to go in there and sing. 

You sat on the stool they had set up for you, headphones on as Axel droned on about something insignificant, and you brainstormed. You hadn’t even thought about writing for the past few months, despite Oscar trying to convince you that it would make you feel better. You couldn’t touch it. Though now, with no consequences, no one looking at you, no one interested, you reached for the guitar and strung a few cords. You thought about Charles, about the band, about Oscar. Then you thought about nothing.

“When I’m away from you, I’m happier than ever,” You sang, and then the words came flowing freely. 

Three hours later, you had an album on your hands. A good album. A great album. 

-------------------

“You did it,” Oscar smiled as you stepped out of the studio. “Write anything?”

“I think I like you. Like, like like you,” you confessed. He smiled. 

“Good,” he answered. 

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I just said-”

He pressed his lips to yours softly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’ve like like-d you since the day we met. I’m glad we’re on the same page now.”

You stared at him in shock for a moment, then a smile spread across your face. “You’re such an asshole.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t want to rush you,” he shrugged. “Anyway, write anything?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, handing him a CD. “One of two in the world, don’t lose it.”

His eyes lit up, a big smile on his face. “Is this the perks of being Y/n Y/l/n’s boyfriend? Exclusive insight into new music?”

“Calling yourself my boyfriend?” you quirked an eyebrow, smiling. 

“Oh baby, I’ve called myself your boyfriend for the past 2 months, I’m not stopping now,” he smiled, and your heart could’ve melted.

You chuckled. "Always the charmer Piastri."

He smirked, then something behind his eyes changed, and he started blushing. He was about to ask you something important. “Come to Monza with me? Please?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

-------------------

You touched down in Italy in Max’s private jet. You’d spent the afternoon getting to know him, Kelly, and Penelope, who’d taken a significant liking to you. The flight had been great, you’d never been on a jet before and it was as luxurious and comfortable as you’d imagined. Another part of the journey that was comfortable was Oscar letting you lay on him the entire time. You two were new but it looked like you’d been together forever. It felt like it too. It felt like he saw you. The real you. And he wasn’t scared or disgusted, or anything else that your brain told you he’d be. He was just Oscar. 

You left the jet, the perks of flying in the middle of the night meant that no fans were waiting for you outside. You didn’t need to add more flames to the fire of his insane life. You wanted to keep your ‘scandals’ to yourself and to just let him race. 

He gave your hand a squeeze to pull you back into the moment. “You alright?”

You nodded. “I’m ok, just nervous about this weekend.”

“You don’t need to be nervous, you don’t even have to leave my driver’s room if you don’t want to. I just… I wanted you here.”

“I want to be here,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I want to be around you.”

Even though it was dark, you could see the blush on his cheeks. 

-------------------

Media day began as it always did, walking into the paddock with about a hundred cameras on him. Only this time, the hundred cameras were pointed at him and you, more specifically, you two holding hands. It wasn't even a conscious thing you did. You just took his hand to try and calm yourself down. You liked how he gently brushed his thumb against the back of your hand, you liked how he would squeeze your hand every now and then, and you liked how he led you through the sea of reporters with a simple smile, and a firm hold.

When you got to the McLaren motorhome, you and Oscar parted ways with a quick kiss and a promise of lunch together. You decided to join Alex Dunne, one of McLaren's development drivers and a current F3 driver for a track walk and interview. You two chatted and laughed, getting on really well. The weather was sweltering, so you went back inside to meet Lando and Oscar for lunch.

"Y/n!" Lando smiled, running up to you.

"Hey Lan," you greeted, hugging him back as he engulfed you in one of his bear-hugs.

"How are you?" he asked, pulling back.

"All good thanks, you?"

"Fine," he shrugged, then turned his attention to Oscar and you. He smirked. "Has he asked you out yet?"

You chuckled, nodding. "He has."

"My ship has sailed!" He cheered.

"What? You have a boat?" Oscar questioned, as you and Lando laughed.

The rest of the day went well, only being bombarded with cameras every now and then, and somehow, whenever they found you, Oscar came right along to take you away. You appreciated the concern from him, and it definitely took the edge off some of the comments people made, especially the internet. Who knew you and Oscar would be such big news? Big news that hadn't even been confirmed, at that.

-------------------

After lunch, Oscar was forced into more press, this time, they decided to ask about you. You watched on from the McLaren hospitality as the interviewer said some choice words about you.

"So, you were seen earlier entering the paddock with Y/n Y/l/n, yes?"

"Yes," Oscar replied.

"You two were holding hands," she pointed out.

"There was a swarm of reporters, I didn't want to leave her behind," he shrugged. You quickly realised that you hadn't talked about whether or not you wanted to tell the media bout your budding relationship.

"So you aren't dating Y/n 'home-wrecker' Y/l/n?"

Oscar's face fell into a frown. "Her middle name is Y/m/n, not home-wrecker, and yes, I'm her boyfriend."

With that he moved on, leaving the interviewer shocked and defeated.

-------------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake

[j4desblurbs]

i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday

give me my soft man!!

LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE

yes i got the title from a hozier song

summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.

warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings

word count: 1.3k

logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.

curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.

no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.

it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.

“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.

“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?

“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”

you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.

“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”

“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.

you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.

but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.

“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”

he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”

you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:

“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”

logan stops cold.

“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.

you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.

“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”

“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.

“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.

logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.

it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————

for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.

he was never the best at communicating.

by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.

he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.

logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.

and he couldn’t even do that.

he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.

he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.

what had he done?

he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.

“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.

almost.

you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.

really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.

he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.

seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”

you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.

logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.

“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.

“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.

“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.

he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.

“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”

as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.

“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.

he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.

as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.

“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.

you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.

you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.

[elflutter]

— she's your daddy

kinktober 04 → threesome & daddy kink

wade x logan x f!reader

wordcount: ~500

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), fluff, humor, established relationship, light daddy kink, she/her pronouns for reader, anal sex (m. recieving), mentions of p i v, dirty talk, pet names, they're all switches but logan is subby in this, dom!reader, dom!wade, sub-space, it's all very soft and cute and sweet

Some bullshit is always spewing from Wade's mouth, whether he's buried in your cunt or balls deep in Logan. You're sprawled on one side of the bed, Logan's hand wrapped tight around one of yours. Your other plays at your clit as Wade pounds into him from behind. A scarred hand wraps around Logan's cock, tip angry and leaking. The words that come out of his mouth really shouldn't surprise you.

"Come on, peanut, wanna come for daddy?"

Your fingers stop swirling your swollen nub as you let Wade's words soak in. The thought of the word daddy falling from Logan's lips shouldn't have your cunt clenching like it does. But, then again, you've always been a bit depraved.

Logan's response comes valiantly as Wade pistons into him, balls slapping lewdly with every meeting of Wade's hips.

"Anyone—" Thrust. "Ever tell ya—" Thrust. "You're shit at dirty talk—" Thrust. "Red?" Logan's teeth are clenched, voice harsh.

"Yeah, Wade," you muse. "Don't be ridiculous."

You pause for a beat; a mischievous grin as you meat Wade's gaze. Your fingers begin to dip between your folds, gathering your slick before moving back to your aching clit. "We both know I'm his daddy."

Logan lets out a rough groan, at that, despite himself. And the confirmation sends lightning bolts shooting down your spine.

The hand holding Logan's squeezes a little tighter, as you coax him on. Your eyes meet his, gaze dripping with desire. Your voice a low whisper.

"Come on, Lo. Come for daddy."

Logan's breaths come in pants, now. "Yeah— fuck, I will," he babbles between breaths. "Gonna come for you, baby."

Wade slows his thrusts then, perfectly in-tune with your little game, though his own daddy-action may have been thwarted.

"Ah-ah, baby girl," the merc sing-songs. "That's not her name."

Logan growls, the sound a feral thing. He turns his head to the man behind him. "Fuck you, mouth."

Then, he turns back to face you. His cheeks are flushed crimson, eyes closed, as he addresses you.

"Gonna come for you— Daddy."

The three of you keep at it for hours that night, you and Wade taking care of Logan until he's floating in that hazy space you know so well. He always seems to be the one bringing you and Wade there. He deserves to feel it too, after all he's done for you. As hungry for control as he can be, Logan has never had somebody take care of him like this. You're just glad you can be the one to do it.

Finally, when it's closer to morning than it is to night, you're all fucked out and boneless, cuddling in a heap on your shared California king. Your hands tangle in Logan's hair, damp with sweat, as Wade traces little patterns on the bare skin of your thigh while he spoons you. Then, because of course he does, Wade breaks the silence. He heaves a dramatic sigh.

"I cant believe she's your daddy." He pouts, petulant. "Will these perverts ever let me have anything?!"

You're not sure what he's talking about, but you're too fucked out to care. You twist around to press a chaste kiss to the mottled skin of Wade's head. "It's okay, princess. You can be my daddy."

a/n: this one is short and sweet, but i thought it was fun! if you enjoyed it, i'd love to hear what you thought! reblogs are always appreciated 🤍

taglist: @squishyfrui @misscrissfemmefatale | and some beloveds (no pressure just thought you might enjoy this hehe) @eupheme @sceletaflores @avocado-writing

request to be added/removed from taglist in the replies

gif credit

dividers by @moosgraphics + @saradika-graphics

[slamminslamminmcgill]

all im saying is ✨Logan with a knot✨ and Wade overstimulating you bc you cant get away -🦐

shrimp anon more like shrimp COLORS bro your vision is INSANE!!!!!!

soooo idk conventional a/b/o rules and i kinda don't care so im picturing a heat cycle as once a month endeavour. and bc you're on T you're a HORNY motherfucker and you're angry and violent so it's basically whoever can get their hands on you or knot in you first will take care of you. then as long as you get bred at least once you're fine. then you calm down and it's big aftercare hours bc your post-heat clarity endorphins are going CRAZY

now since your heat only comes once a month, wade treats it as a special occasion. and it wouldn't be fair of him to do the honors EVERY month, now would it?

so even though he's home with you, and logan's not, and won't be for a while, wade wilson will refuse to fuck you. it's not his turn. he did it last month.

and your heat is MISERABLE. imagine the worst period cramp you ever had, combined with hot flashes, searing rage, and it gives your cunt the sensitivity of a fucking bear trap. you'll clamp down on anything that touches you.

so no matter how much you suffer. no matter if you scream, cry, beg, grovel, bite, or commit acts of gratuitous violence against him.

he will hold out.

he will hold out until logan gets home and finds you naked, cuffed to the bed by your hands and ankles, a chewy ball-gag in your mouth getting crushed by your gritting teeth, and wade's holding a wand vibrator to your cunt.

he waves gayly at logan, "hey pinkie pie, merry christmas! wanna come open your gift?"

"jesus christ, are you fucking torturing him?! the hell is wrong with you?!"

"with ME?! where's your holiday spirit?"

logan just stares at him blankly, puzzled by what this psychotic dipshit could possibly be talking about. in response, and in the spirit of the season, wade sings him a song.

"🎼it's the mooost wonderful tiiiiime, of the mooonth~!🎵"

now he gets it.

"oh... okay. so then why did you tie him down like that?"

"well, we had a little INCIDENT earlier..."

--

you had managed to grab one of wade's guns and shot him in the chest

"OW!!! you RESOURCEFUL little shit!!! GRRR, oh~ mysweetboybabydarling i'msoproudofyou, butnoi'mnot, BAD BOY!!!"

--

"no, i mean why didn't you take care of him your-fucking-self, wilson? you really gotta make this my problem as soon as i walk in the fuckin' door?"

"your PROBLEM?! i hand you some prime-time, limited-edition, hot and bothered, ripe for the breeding, tranny boy BUSSY on a silver platter, and that's somehow NOT where your dick wants to spend its evening? am i hearing that right? please tell me i'm not. please tell me you're not this stupid, pookie bear."

instead of arguing back, logan goes quiet. he's thinking. and then, he laughs. that low, husky laugh that you have when you're marveling at the nerve of whatever dumb motherfucker is talking to you. or maybe, when that dumb motherfucker is making a point.

"heh... y'know what? fine." logan angrily strips his clothes off, one by one. his tanktop, "you want me to be the one to knot him? huh?" his belt, his jeans "can't do anything yourself, can ya?" and lastly, his boxers. then he grabs his cock and shakes it at wade.

"so then get me hard, you faggot." he clicks his tongue twice. "c'mon."

wade throws himself at logan's knees and gives him that gawkgawk4000turbotyphoon treatment to get him up. logan sighs in relaxation, grateful that wade was putting his mouth to such better use. once his eyes flutter open, he nods at you, finally giving you even a modicum of attention while you're under intense distress, and he merely waves at you nonchalantly, like how a pedestrian does to a car that lets him cross.

"hang tight, bub. be with ya in a second."

wade works him over until his knot is just barely starting to swell. he then takes his fattened cock and slaps wade across the face with it.

"take his chains off."

"hm... are you sure you want me to do that, princess? he's feisty, y'know. might get yourself bit, if you're not careful."

logan slaps wade again, but this time it's a bitchslap, using the back of his hand. and his claws.

"take. his fucking. chains off."

"mmm, right AWAY, your majesty~!"

[pedroscurls]

in every lifetime (pt. 4)

summary: logan goes to your apartment late in the night to make things right. finally. pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader tags / warnings: angst - post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), no use of y/n. word count: 1.2k a/n: so i certainly wasn't going to go this route for this chapter (it was originally gonna consist of a lot of yelling and all of that, but there is a softness to logan and add this song... i just couldn't write it the way i originally wanted). but anyway! thank you to everyone who's read this story - it holds a special place in my heart. i think we have one more chapter left before i consider this complete! our bb logan deserves a happy ending and i don't think i can torture him anymore lol. stay tuned though bc i'm gonna continue writing more for this character (i'm so obsessed). song lyrics will be in italics btw song: you are the reason by calum scott prev. part - next part.

Of course it’s raining. 

Logan shouldn’t have taken his motorcycle, but he wanted to get to you as fast as he could. There aren’t that many cars this late at night, but he still does have to swerve between traffic to get to your apartment. He’s drenched by the time he approaches your street, parking his motorcycle on the first spot he sees along the curb. He strokes his wet hair away from his face as he feels the heaviness weigh on his chest – he doesn’t know if you’d even hear him out, but he has to try. 

It isn’t until he gets near your apartment that he realizes maybe coming to your apartment this late in the night wasn’t a good idea. But he stops in his tracks when he sees you step out, immediately getting drenched in your oversized crewneck and plaid pajama pants. Despite the heavy rain, Logan knows you’ve been crying. Can see the way you cross your arms over your chest as you bite down on your lower lip. He can hear your heart beating, can hear how you’re stifling your sobs, can hear you whisper over and over: I’m so tired. I’m so tired. I’m so tired.

He isn’t sure why you’ve come outside, why you’re standing in the pouring rain, but he knows that he wants to pull you into his arms. Logan slowly begins to walk towards you, careful not to startle you. As he gets closer and closer to you, Logan feels the sudden urge to reach out to you, to wipe your tears away, to tell you that he’s here. 

And that he isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t hear him and you’re so close to just yelling, screaming at the top of your lungs and asking the universe why? Why did it take your Logan away only to bring some version of him back? A version that wanted nothing to do with you? 

Your hands curl into fists, tears streaming down your face, hair and clothes completely soaked. You’re about to turn back around to go inside because you feel that if you stay out here another minute longer, you’re surely going to lose it. And you can’t. Laura still needs you. 

And you still need to be strong for her. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the handle of your front door, you hear his voice. It’s quiet, but it’s loud enough that you can hear it past the rain. You feel like your heart is beating out of your chest when your eyes meet his. 

Time suddenly seems to stand still as you stare into each other’s eyes. You’re standing on your front steps with Logan on the sidewalk, gazing up at you. You can see the look on his face, the complete vulnerability that he’s displaying as he stares up at you.

All of his guarded walls are down. For you. Only ever for you. 

There goes my heart beating 'Cause you are the reason I'm losing my sleep Please come back now

Slowly, he takes a step closer to you and you do the same. Neither of you say anything, the sound of the rain encompassing the both of you. You feel so overwhelmed with emotion and just like earlier that night, you yearn to reach out for him, to just be pulled into his arms. 

Logan can feel his own tears pool at the corners of his eyes as he keeps his gaze on you. He deserves this. He deserves you. He deserves a second chance to make things right. To be happy. To be loved. By you.

And there goes my mind racing  And you are the reason  That I'm still breathing  I'm hopeless now

As you take a step closer to him, so does Logan. Now standing in front of each other, mere inches separating your bodies, Logan reaches up to cup your cheek. You let out a shaky breath and shut your eyes momentarily, leaning into his touch as you bring a hand up to wrap around his wrist. Logan inhales sharply, your touch electrifying him once more. 

When your eyes flutter open, Logan steps closer, head dipping lower… 

I'd climb every mountain And swim every ocean Just to be with you And fix what I've broken

“In every lifetime and in every universe,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips. “I’m yours.” 

Your hand tightens around his wrist as your other hand comes up to rest on his chest. Tears pool around your eyes as the rain continues to come down. “Logan…”

“And with every fiber of my being, I will always love you.” Logan clears his throat, resting his forehead gently against yours as he brushes his nose with yours. 

Your hand on his chest clutches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him flush against you. Logan’s hand drops from your cheek to rest on your hip, lips pressing lightly on your cheek. 

And if I could turn back the clock I'd make sure the light defeated the dark I'd spend every hour, of every day Keeping you safe

It isn’t until your hands move to wrap around his shoulders that Logan snakes his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him. He holds you tightly to his chest, burying his face against the side of your neck. 

This… This is where he belongs. With you. 

He lets out a sigh of relief and tightens his hold on you when he feels your body begin to tremble with quiet sobs. This is as much of a relief for you as it is for him. This is your second chance and while your Logan will forever hold a special place in your heart, you feel lucky enough to be able to get another chance with a version of him. 

The rain continues to pour down on the both of you, not bothersome in the slightest. Slowly, he pulls back enough to look down at you. His eyes move lower until he gazes at your lips and then back up at your eyes. Logan brings a hand up to rest on your cheek, gently brushing the pad of his thumb against you.

I'd climb every mountain And swim every ocean Just to be with you

“I’d love you in every lifetime,” you repeat from the first night you saw him. “And that includes this one.”

“I’m here,” Logan whispers. “I’m with you, bub.”

You nod slowly, bringing your hands to gently push his wet hair away from his face. Logan’s lips turn upwards as his lips brush against yours lightly and it takes everything in him not to just kiss you because he knows that you both have a long way to go. 

But he wants you to know that he’s no longer going to run. 

He’s going to be here, right by your side. 

Just like how it should be in this universe, in his universe, and in every universe out there. 

This was right where he belonged. 

'Cause I need you to see That you are the reason

“Logan?” you whisper, eyes gazing down at his lips.

“Yeah, darlin’?” 

“Kiss me,” you say quietly. “Please…”

Logan smiles, his hand splaying on the side of your neck as his thumb brushes against your jawline. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and leans in to press his lips against yours. 

Finally.

--

taglist: @its-in-the-woods @mynatureworld @wadewnstonwilson @squishyfruitloop @maybedisaster

@kellyxo1 @m1cky-y-y @flowersforbucky @namikyento

[reidsworld]

Birthday Headcanons

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Mars speaks… some long birthday HC’s cause I turned 19 today😛

Masterlist | Divider from @/saradika-graphics

His birthday’s

2000s

Birthdays aren’t something Logan’s ever celebrated much—years have passed like a blur for him, and he’s lost track of more than a few. But when you find out, you decide he’s overdue for some fun. You throw a little party at the mansion, much to his protest, but he shows up anyway, grumbling about “not needing all this fuss.”

You make him a cake, and when he sees it, he rolls his eyes, muttering, “You know I can’t get drunk, right?” But there’s a smile tugging at his lips as he cuts into it, pretending not to notice the candles you insisted he blow out.

You gift him a brand-new leather jacket, knowing he’s worn his old one down to threads. He tries to act like he doesn’t care, but the way he runs his hand over the material, admiring it, gives him away. Later, you catch him in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar with a little grin.

The rest of the team tries to get him to do something fun, like karaoke or dancing. He’s resistant at first, leaning back in his chair with a gruff, “Not a chance.” But as the night goes on, and you’re smiling at him in that way that makes his heart skip, he relents, grumbling, “Alright, just this once.”

After everyone’s gone to bed, he finds you alone in the kitchen, and he leans against the counter, giving you that half-smirk. “Not the worst birthday I’ve ever had,” he admits, then pulls you into a slow, sweet kiss, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

2010s

By now, Logan’s a bit more aware of his age, though he’ll never admit it out loud. Birthdays are still not his thing, but he knows you won’t let it slide, so he tries to act surprised when you hand him a small, wrapped gift. He makes a show of sniffing it first, “Just making sure it’s not rigged.”

You take him out for a quiet dinner—some place low-key where he doesn’t have to pretend to be anything other than himself. He seems more relaxed, his shoulders lose some of their tension, and he’s even more talkative than usual, sharing stories you haven’t heard before, things from way back.

Later, you take him back to the mansion, where you’ve arranged a little surprise—a playlist of his favourite songs, heavy on The Rolling Stones. He groans, “Seriously?” but then a smile breaks through, and he pulls you into a dance, grumbling all the while that his moves aren’t what they used to be. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, swaying gently.

You give him a photo album you put together of all the people and places that have mattered to him over the years—some old, some new. He’s quiet for a while as he flips through the pages, but you catch the way his fingers linger over certain photos, his eyes softer than usual.

That night, he admits, “Maybe getting older isn’t so bad… if I’ve got you.” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into bed, and kisses you like he’s trying to make every moment count.

2020s

By now, Logan’s gotten used to his body betraying him, and birthdays have become a painful reminder of time slipping away. He doesn’t expect much, doesn’t even remember it’s his birthday until you remind him. “Yeah, yeah… another year older,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile he’s trying to hide.

You’ve planned a quiet day, just the two of you. He doesn’t have the energy for much, but he appreciates the simplicity—a drive in his old truck, a stop at a little diner where they don’t bother him, just letting him enjoy his coffee in peace.

You surprise him with an old vinyl, something rare you tracked down just for him. “Where’d you find this?” he asks, his voice low, almost reverent. He places the record on, and as the music fills the room, he closes his eyes, letting out a slow breath, the tension easing from his shoulders.

That night, he opens up more than he usually does, sharing bits and pieces of memories you’ve never heard before, his voice softer, more reflective. “I guess I’ve lived a long damn life,” he says quietly, his hand wrapped around yours. “Never thought I’d make it this far.”

Before bed, he pulls you into his lap, his hands tracing familiar patterns on your back. “Thanks for sticking around, even when I’m a grumpy old bastard,” he mutters. You laugh, and he presses a kiss to your temple, whispering, “I mean it. I’m damn lucky to have you.”

As you fall asleep beside him, you feel his arms tighten around you, and he murmurs, “Maybe next year, we’ll make it a big one. Just to see what all the fuss is about.” You smile, knowing it’s his way of saying he’s not done fighting yet, not done living, as long as he’s got you by his side.

Your birthday’s

2000s

Logan’s not the best at remembering dates, but he surprises you by remembering your birthday. He tries to act all casual about it, like it’s no big deal, but you catch him sneaking off to ask Jean or Ororo what people usually do for birthdays. When the day comes, he shows up with a small, slightly crumpled bouquet of wildflowers, mumbling something about how “flowers seemed like the right thing.”

He takes you out on his bike, just the two of you, racing through empty roads, wind in your hair, and the world blurring past. You stop at a quiet spot, overlooking the city, and he surprises you with a bottle of wine he swiped from the mansion’s cellar. “Don’t tell Scott,” he jokes with a grin, his eyes twinkling under the moonlight.

You make a wish before blowing out the candles on the cake the team got you, and he leans in, whispering, “Hope you wished for somethin’ good.” There’s a hint of mischief in his voice, and when you ask if he wants to know what you wished for, he just smirks, “Nah, I’ll find out eventually.”

Later, he slips a little gift into your hand—a simple, but beautiful necklace with a tiny charm. “Picked it up on my last trip,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “Figured you might like it.” You can tell he put a lot of thought into it, and when you thank him, he just gives you a rare, genuine smile.

2010s

By now, Logan’s gotten better at the whole “birthday thing.” He doesn’t plan anything extravagant, but he knows you well enough to give you a day that’s just right. He starts with breakfast in bed—pancakes, scrambled eggs, and your favourite coffee, even though he grumbles about “not being a chef.”

He takes you to a small bookstore that you love, the kind with creaky floors and shelves that stretch to the ceiling. You spend hours browsing, and he’s surprisingly patient, leaning against the wall, flipping through some old paperbacks. When you’re not looking, he buys the books you were eyeing and hands them to you as a surprise later on.

The two of you spend the afternoon outside, just lying on a blanket in the park, enjoying the peace and quiet. He brings a small speaker and plays some of your favourite songs, mixed in with a few of his own. “Gotta educate you on the classics,” he teases, grinning as The Rolling Stones play in the background. You end up dancing together, your laughter filling the air, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

As the day winds down, he pulls you close and tells you he’s got one last surprise. He takes you up to the roof of the mansion where he’s set up a few blankets and pillows, a bottle of wine, and a small picnic. The two of you watch the sunset, his arm wrapped around you, and he says softly, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I hope today was everything you wanted.”

That night, he holds you close, pressing soft kisses to your temple and murmuring, “I don’t need a special day to show ya how much you mean to me… but I’m glad you got one.” And he falls asleep holding you, a rare peaceful expression on his face.

2020s

At this point, Logan knows you well enough to plan a birthday that’s completely tailored to you. He starts the day with a quiet breakfast, letting you sleep in while he cooks your favourite meal. There’s a soft smile on his face as he brings you coffee, knowing exactly how you like it. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

He knows big celebrations aren’t your thing anymore, so he keeps it simple—a road trip to somewhere you’ve never been. He lets you pick the destination, and you end up at a secluded cabin by a lake, where it’s just the two of you and the sound of nature all around. “Figured we could use the peace,” he says with a grin, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

Throughout the day, he surprises you with little things—a book you’ve been wanting, a sweater in your favourite colour, even a rare bottle of whiskey he managed to find. “Not as good as what they had back in the day,” he jokes, “but it’ll do.”

He takes you out on the lake in a small boat, rowing you around under the afternoon sun. There’s a calmness about him, a contentment you don’t often see, and he reaches out to take your hand, squeezing it gently. “Thanks for stickin’ around all these years,” he says softly, his voice filled with more emotion than usual.

As the sun sets, he lights a small campfire, and the two of you sit together, watching the stars come out one by one. He wraps a blanket around your shoulders and pulls you close, whispering in your ear, “You deserve more than I could ever give you… but I’ll spend the rest of my life tryin’.”

That night, you fall asleep in his arms, his heartbeat steady against your back, and he murmurs, “Here’s to another year with you, darlin’.” His voice is low, gravelly, and filled with a kind of love that only seems to grow stronger with time.

The next morning, you wake up to find him cooking breakfast again, grumbling about “getting the hang of it” and how he’s going to “make sure every damn birthday from now on is better than the last.” And you know he means it, in that way that’s so uniquely Logan.

Mars speaks... (again) I've been super busy lately with school so hope this will hold y'all over till I can post again lmao. any and all feedback is always appreciated🫶

[pear1escence]

Hello! I read your “being keegan’s girlfriend would entail…” and was wondering if you could do one for David/Hesh Walker? My manz doesn’t get enough love

If not that’s totally okay! Thanks for reading!

Being Keegan’s girlfriend would entail…

Being David Walker’s girlfriend would entail…

David ‘Hesh’ Walker x fem!Reader (that’s my last name too actually wink wink)

Explicit - 18+

⭒ He’s got a lot of room in his heart for tenderness.

⭒ The pain he feels from having lost his father hasn’t gone away, but it doesn’t plague him like it used to. (Listen, we’ve got Logan safe and sound in this universe our man doesn’t need any more problems)

⭒ What he needs from a lover is patience. The violence he’s experienced, it’s made him rougher around the edges. (Tougher? Rougher? Pls help) He just needs a lil time to soften up to you, I think Hesh would be the sweetest man f’you, such a loving and considerate boyfriend.

⭒ Hesh cherishes the intimate, sweet moments of a relationship. Holding you in his arms in the early hours of the morning, listening to your little puffs of breath, the calmness in your face as you sleep.

⭒ He’s so gentle with you. If it’s his thumb stroking over your cheek in soothing motions, or the palm of his hand running along the soft skin of your back. Treats you so well.

⭒ Chemtrails over the Country Clubs by Lana Del Rey reminds me of him. ‘Tulsa Jesus Freak’ and ‘Let Me Love You Like A Woman’ are Hesh songs to me. Very domestic and intimate.

⭒ I think of him as a socially confident person, a man who carries himself with confidence, falls into conversation easily. He’s charming he’s got rizz basically, you don’t have to search for long to find the reasons you fell for him.

⭒ I mean…pretty green eyes, tall, arms like his? I’d eat him up.

⭒ He’d date someone shy, I think. I think he’d find your shyness endearing, amusing even.

⭒ He loves taking you out for dinner, partly because he loves the sight of you all dressed up for him. He strikes me as someone with he a classic taste, likes romantic makeup styles, dresses that hug your curves and lacy lingerie.

⭒ His softness carries over into the bedroom, of course. I can’t imagine him being degrading or enjoying anything too rough, honestly. He can’t resist teasing you a bit though, a little meanness is all fun. He likes you submissive though, and he can be stern sometimes. Who’s complaining anyways let’s be honest with ourselves😓

⭒ He’s gonna be groping you mercilessly. Loves soft thighs, a nice pair of tiddies, anything soft. He’s big on foreplay, loves to finger you while praising you. Luvs to praise.

⭒ He WILL suck on your nipples. Probably groaning about how much he loves your body while doing so.

⭒ Wouldn’t actually choke you, but he’ll wrap a hand around your neck nd apply pressure gently, he likes seeing his hand ‘round your neck + you find it grounding, even comforting.

⭒ Makes you look him in the eyes while his hand is in your panties, “Does that feel good, baby? Yeah?” Nd you best believe he’s stopping if he doesn’t get an answer.

⭒ Very into eye contact while he’s fucking you. Again with the “You like that, pretty girl?” While gripping your jaw nd making you look at him, groaning out a “Good girl” once you answer him.

⭒ This just turned into sex headcannons bruh😞

⭒ Loves blowjobs. Also lowkey wants you to lick/suck on his balls but he’s a bit embarrassed to ask, you’ll figure out he enjoys it from his reactions anyways. Also pretty hairy, but not as much of a bear man as Keegan is.

⭒ He sends you pics of him in his combat uniform while he’s out on deployment. He’ll certainly appreciate pics of you in return, a mirror selfie of you in some nice lingerie would drive him crazy. Loves a nice photo of you in his boxers too.

⭒ I think he’d be very shy about reciprocating those kinds of images, but he’d send you over some mildly suggestive ones. He’d be very confused if you ask for a nut vid. (That sounds so fucking dumb, nut vid??)

Me?? Writing for someone other that Keegan??? No but this was fun, I’ve been wanting to write for Hesh for a while. Hope you enjoyed!! I think this is my first request ever tihi

[luboy7rt]

How Team GHOST Would React To You Being Brainwashed (Headcanons) (GN reader) (Elias, Hesh, Logan, Merrick, Keegan and Kick and Riley)

(Note: This is just what I (My headcanons), enjoy reading!)(Could be seen as Platonic, Romantic?)

(Reader is in the infirmary after the Federation brainwashed you, after months of not seeing you, how would characters react to you being so different)

Elias Walker:

- Elias went silent as he sat in your infirmary room, his arms crossed firmly. Elias is a hit..  saddened, he knew Rorke before he got brainwashed.. he never wanted it to happen to someone he knew so well, someone he cherished.

- Elias stares into your dull eyes as he sat next to you, his jaw subtly clenched as he would force himself to give you a reassuring smile.

- Elias would talk, talk a lot despite the fact he never talked much, he would catch you up on everything and anything, telling you stories about the memories You have shared together that you might have been brainwashed to forget.

- Elias would simply spend time with you, your body chained down due to your Brainwashed state, but.. Elias wasn't able to ‘get over’ it, like he did with Rorke, He wasn't able to not visit you. He had a chance to help you, he was willing to spend his time doing so. He never got the chance to help Rorke, he regretted not trying more to save the man in the past… But the past was the past and you were his future, you were more important and the current, he decided to focus on the present.

- Elias would pull up your covers if you weren't able to or didn't/couldn't move due to your brainwashed state. Elias would personally care for you, and when he couldn't he ensured it was a trusted friend, teammate or medic to care for you.

- Elias would give you headpats, he gently murmurs when you flinch back due to the trauma you have experienced by being Brainwashed and tortured by the Federation. Elias would respect your space but also wants to gently get used to his touch again.

- He would read You stories, his voice is great for it. (If you are his child, or if he raised you it's because he wants to remember the good times… and make you remember that he's here. or He would hum a soft song he hummed to you when you were very young or maybe humming a song Ms Walker would always hum before she passed) Elias would even read out loud or hum gently even if you are sleeping, he saves the stories about Team Ghosts and stories about you, or the others for when you are awake and ‘listening’.

- Elias would be there for physical therapy, every moment, whenever you needed help but couldn't voice it. Elias would be there, and he gets really good at just guessing what you needed.

- Elias wants to be the first person you see in the day, not a medic, despite the fact he knows you have false memories, or your memories were messed with, he wanted that trust you once had for him, he wants you to understand you were safe with him.

- Elias gives you a forehead kiss when he arrives to your side and one before he leaves, just to make a habit form so you can expect affection from him or if you're not that close he would pat your head instead.

David ‘Hesh’ Walker:

- Hesh falls asleep on the infirmary bed next to you every night, emotionally exhausted as you were the first experience of someone he knew so well being brainwashed. Hesh would refuse to leave your side, willing to stay put until he knows you are aware again.

- He does cry when he gets frustrated, knowing you were in pain, knowing he couldn't help.. knowing your memories were messed with, he tries to hide it, but his hand is tightly holding yours. He's on his knees by your infirmary bed, his face buried into the mattress as he murmurs ‘I got you’, ‘you'll be alright’ multiple times over and over again.

- Hesh tries to encourage you, to get up.. to move about a tiny bit.. to strengthen your limbs once again. Hesh takes you walking around the base when you are mentally aware enough to not attack him or others.

- His hands gently clasped around yours, after days of ‘waiting’ for something.. anything from you. Hesh began speaking to you, rambling on about any topic he could think of. Trying to comfort you so he talks about any topic that you had brought up to him before you went missing, it could be about a hobby you were telling him about or a story, or anything. He remembers, and will remember for you until you could hold onto the memories again.

- Hesh usually re-does your bandages, ensuring your wounds are disinfected and bandaged in clean bandages. He asked a medic to show him the ‘right way’, (he knew how to do this already, but asked the medic anyway to ensure he did it right). Hesh does this so you can get used to his touch once again, he flinches when you flinch at his touch because he isn't used to you flinching because of him.

- Hesh sneaks in your favorite snacks for you, despite the fact you weren't supposed to eat it, but he did sneak it in for a bed-time snack, trying to coax you with your favorite snack, so maybe it would trigger the memories of all the nice times you both have shared over snacks.

- He watches movies with you, Hesh didn't really care he was uncomfortably curled up in the chair next to your infirmary bed, ends up with Riley on his lap so you three could watch movies together while you recover.

- He tends to get frustrated and cry, but only a tiny bit, a few tears slipping from his eyes when he watches you, his heart hurt for you. Of course, he has seen a lot in his time as a soldier, he lost many friends, but he hadn't ‘lost’ someone like this before. He wanted to protect You but he couldn't figure out how.

Logan Walker:

- Logan didn't react much physically to the news you were back at base, back in the infirmary. He was told what had happened to you.. But he didn't visit at first, letting the rest of the Ghosts members visit you.

- He did visit at night though, when there wasn't supposed to be visitors, he snuck in. Silently sitting on the edge of your infirmary back, staring back at your dull eyes. At first he was surprised you were awake but he simply sat there.. so you wouldn't have to be alone again.

- Logan would stay the whole night, tapping your arm.. He ignored if you flinched, he understood what happened to those who have been brainwashed by the Federation. He tries to respect your space, doing just soft taps to let you know he was there every once in a while.

- Logan formed a habit to spend every night in your infirmary room, as if he was ‘guarding’ it for you. Ensuring no one came in, no matter how many times Elias tells him to allow you to sleep.. He does, but he's going to be around while you do.

- Logan simply wants to protect you, ensuring the Federation couldn't get you again, even though there is a slim chance of anyone getting into HQ, he likes to think it eases your mind, even if you couldn't or didn't voice it. 

- He'd sit there for hours, moving to sit next to you.. sometimes he would lay his head on your forearm, to sleep near you. Sometimes he would shift his head onto your chest to simply hear your heartbeat to ensure you were alive.

- Mentally Logan is breaking down, unable to handle the fact you were no longer the you he knew well. Not taking well to the fact your memories were messed with, so he tries to make you remember, using the rare photos he has of you and the team to try and show you.

Keegan P. Russ:

- Keegan broke in the moment he got word of your return, scaring all the medics as he kicked down the door (he didn't have to, it was unlocked, but he didn't realize It) as he stormed in. He would say your name, as he walked over to you. He sorta aggressively grabbed your shirt, to check your now bandaged wounds, just simply checking you over himself to just see you were alright, his gloved hands firmly checking over each of your now bandaged wounds.

- After a bit, he would grumble and sigh as grab the chair to the side, dragging it, the noise being loud, if you flinch he would place his hand on over your collarbones as if to keep you down, murmuring a soft shush as he did so.

- His hand would hold yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he would ensure no one else was around before being a bit affectionate with you. “You better be fuckin’ alright” Keegan would mutter under his breath.

- His hand stays firmly on your body, your chest, your arm. Your hand, he doesn’t care if you're brainwashed, he silently cares that you're alive. He’s willing to put up with you, he didn’t need you to remember (despite the fact, that he silently wishes for you to), he just needs you to be aware he’s there. Silently holding you, protecting you. He won’t admit it out loud, but all his actions while being around you are to protect you from further harm.

- He stays with you for a few hours every day. Leaving for missions when he needs to but he always usually returns to your side to inform you about his day. Aggressively challenges you, pissing you off with his snide comments, riling you up to do something.. anything. That's all he wanted, to get you back to your usual self.

- He would.. be a bit more patient than usual, sighing as he settles in the chair next to you. Ends up with his legs kicked up on your bed, his hand tightly holding yours, murmuring insults under his breath at the world.

- He would end up putting your favorite shows on, informing you of anything you couldn't remember, he knows it all. You're favorite character, favorite moment, anything you question about yourself, he probably knows it. 

- He plays music too, any music you like. As if trying to subconsciously make you remember anything. He would mutter the lyrics under his breath, having learned any songs you used to like in the time you weren't around. 

- His hand rests on your chest, feeling your heartbeat. He silently counts along to it, to ensure you were alive, well, and your heartbeat was beating at a decent pace.

- Keegan was willing to get you revenge as well, working his body to its limits on every mission to get rid of any Federation soldier in his path, he cared for his teammates a lot, and knowing what you went through, he would make them regret it

- Keegan is angry, angry at the world, the Federation.. Maybe a bit at you, despite knowing it was stupid. It wasn’t your fault you were captured, maybe he was also angry at himself, but he simply kept that anger for himself and any Federation soldiers he comes across in the future.

Thomas A. Merrick

- Merrick is surprisingly gentle, his hand resting on your shoulder as he sits on the chair next to your infirmary bed. He shifted the binders of work he needed to do on the floor by his seat as he checks up on you. 

- He tends to just quietly work by your side. It was a win-win for him, he gets to stay by your side while also finishing up on work. Sometimes he would talk when you are awake. Sometimes just telling you about things you had missed while gone for the months you were tortured and brainwashed.

- He would also apologize for all that you went through, he feels bad. He understands he couldn't control what happened but he regretted not moving fast enough to save you.

- Merrick would check up on you as well, checking your bandages, it's not that he didn't trust the medics, he did. But he felt like sometimes he just had to see for himself you were okay.

- He would be there, he would call himself stupid if he wasn't, he liked just talking to you, it reminded him of what your relationship was like before you were brainwashed..  or just talking to you. He didn't need you to speak back if you didn't feel like it, or couldn't.

- He would take you on walks, leading the way, or showing you around HQ again, even if you couldn't remember the way around. Merrick gladly will show you around, as many times as you need. He would also remind you of funny stories, and explain where it took place to try and get you to remember.

- Merrick is saddened and pissed off, but he understands, he couldn’t be sad forever. Yes, he will grieve the past version of you that he knew very well. But he simply kept that quiet and helped you recover. Merrick knew he would like the you, you are despite you being brainwashed, and he will continue to support you through it all. But on the field? Suddenly he gets more scary, yelling a lot more, and aggressively taking out Federation soldiers.

Kick:

- Kick is there, by your side while he has a break in his work, his hand firmly holding your forearm as if to ensure he doesn't ‘lose’ you again. He doesn't talk the first few days of your return, he glances away when your dull eyes meet his.

- He would also pick up one of your hobbies, even if you forgot all about it, if it was a video game, he would play the game and remind you all about it, what you liked, which characters you liked, show you your account and make his own. If you liked drawing, he would attempt to get into it. Basically just picks up any hobbies you had, to try and re-teach you, wanting to see the passion/love you had for it return.

- He’s a bit overbearing, wanting to see everything, every injury, every one who enters your room, he just wants to ensure you are okay.

- He uses a military drone to ‘entertain’ you, even if you don't react much and just watch, he's happy, talking you through his own hobbies for hours at a time. He just is trying to spend time with you, he almost lost you, and he wouldn't take his time for granted anymore.

- His hand is usually resting on you, your shoulder, forearm, knee anywhere you feel comfortable with. 

- He would sometimes tell you about his day, or something stupid Logan and Hesh have done as of late. 

- He would sneak in food, whatever you liked before getting brainwashed, he would cook it himself for you, the cost doesn't matter, if you liked it, he buys or cooks it. Leaves a note that he did indeed bring you food for the medics incase they needed to know but he does it before he leaves so the he doesn't have to face the medics.

- He also brings you your stuff, things you liked or like to do, will bring you books, papers, yarn anything really you want or can do. 

- He frowns when you don't react to the things he brings, as he sees you don't have the passion for any thing you used to like. He doesn't like seeing you.. Brainwashed, doesn't like that you don't respond, and only respond to orders. He will be here while you heal, understanding you would never be the same person he once knew.

- He tries to hype you up, oh you sat up for the first time since getting back? He's hyping you up, you talk for the first time since being tortured, you got this! He's hyping you up every step of the way on your journey to heal.

- He’ll do something stupid just to see you smile, he would make Logan and Hesh do something stupider to just see you smile, encourages stupid shit to Logan and Hesh, saying that yeah.. that would make you smile. But ends up just laughing at the two, and using them as his own amusement while ensuring he would be by your side the whole time.

Riley: (Honorary Dog mention) 

- Riley is sat by the side of your bed when he isn't with Hesh, firmly sat there to protect You.

- Barks for medics when you ‘need’ it, swiftly learns that when your hand brushes against his tail, he needs to bark loudly for a medic to check up on you.

- He waits for you to be ‘better’ so he could get you to play fetch with him, but for now.. until you heal, he is willing to wait by your side. 

- After a few months of your healing journey, Riley sets up to lay on the bottom of your bed instead of on the floor.. flops his head by your handcuffed hand so you can pet him.

- Riley is very loyal, staying put for hours at a time, when he wakes up, his eyes glance at you. To ensure you were alive, awake, and aware. If you sleep too long he chomps (lightly) on your hand to wake you up.. if you don't, Riley goes running off to the first Ghosts member he could find to drag them over to you.

[roseghoul26]

Part 2: ...It Will Come Back

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Cuddling, Nightmares, Morbid Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Mentions Of Throwing Up, Angst, Angst With Comfort, Smut, Virign!Reader, First Time, Bit Of A Pain Kink, Okay Major Pain Kink, Hair Pulling, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking (male receiving)(?), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Feelings Realization Author's Note: y’all know that one scene where he puts the cigar out on his hand? cannot stop thinking about it someone sedate me also this chapter does have a pretty grotesque nightmare scene so head up (just bloody and violent, body horror is the best way to describe it even though it’s not that accurate). Taglist: @kemi707 @moonixlity @chexrybloss0m @foreverwing223 Part 1 ❉ Part 2

It had been two weeks since that night.

He’d been over three times since then, and currently stood outside your door, waiting for a fourth. He would’ve been over more, if he had the time, and didn’t want to seem too eager, even though every nerve in his body itched to be in your presence. 

It was strange. He thought his infatuation with you would die after the novelty wore off, but it was just as strong as the first day, and even more so. Like a sickness, it had taken its hold on his body, his brain, his heart, but he needed no cure. And he found he wasn’t going through the motions of life anymore, just passing the day by until something big happened. You were the big thing; he had something to look forward to now.

Most nights were the same with you. You’d serve dinner, usually leftovers from earlier in the week, but it was still the best food he’d eaten in a while. And Logan would find some way to repay you, usually by getting you to tell him about a maintenance project you’d been “forgetting” to do. You’d given up on trying to tell him it was unnecessary, only providing an amused shake of your head. 

The nights ended with the two of you sitting on the couch, chatting like you had the first time, but nothing more. The conversations varied widely, but never once again had either of you brought up his mutation. At this point, he was almost scared to tell you about them. It wasn’t entirely his fault that it hadn’t been brought up, but he certainly was withholding information that you deserved to know. 

He’d gotten braver in a different way, or “grew a pair”, as Wade had said, letting his fingers graze against your hand, resting his hand on the small of your back as he navigated around your apartment. And, to his immense relief, you liked it, a small shiver and one of those small smiles pulling at your lips. It was the only way he knew that you wanted something deeper than a platonic relationship. 

But that was the extent of anything physical happening. That desire, that hunger, still ravaged his body, yet he made no move to relieve it. The familiarity and comfort of the “routine” the two of you had created was like a safety blanket; as long as he stayed beneath its protection, didn’t step over the proverbial line in the sand, he wouldn’t lose you. He could make himself be fine with these brief touches if that meant you were still here with him, and he’d go at your pace for as long as it took.

But now he stood outside your door, much like a stray scratched at someone’s door once they’d offered them food. Kindness. Safety. He knocked before he thought too much about it. It echoed throughout the hallway, and he shifted on his feet as he waited.

He heard some commotion from the other side, your familiar voice making him smile. He’d found he’d been smiling more, and he liked to think it was because of these late-night meetings. And he wouldn’t admit it, but he rather enjoyed not having a constant scowl etched on his features, no furrow between his brows. 

The door opened after a few seconds of waiting, your face a bright beacon that dazzled him still. Like clockwork, that familiar twist in his gut appeared, a fluttering feeling that either made him feel ill or weightless. 

You smiled at him, just like you always did; he would do anything to keep you reacting to him like that. “Hi, Logan,” you spoke normally, but you might as well have been purring his ear, the way he had to fight back a shiver. Taking a step back, you wordlessly let him into your apartment, a place that was now starting to become familiar to him, or at least part of it; what he’d give to become as acquainted with the other rooms.

The night went on as normal, eating and chatting a second nature now, a familiar dance. You’d talk, he’d respond. He’d make a joke, you’d laugh. He’d let his fingers drag over your hand, your face would duck down, a sharp inhale from you that he could only hear because of his enhancements. A back-and-forth; he just didn’t know how much longer he could go before he broke.

“Is there anythin’ you need from me, sweetheart?” I’d give you my heart if you just asked.

“Not tonight, no.” You laughed at his incredulous look. “I swear! But…”

“But?” 

“There has been this movie I’ve been wanting to watch.” You still had a bit of laughter in your voice, yet there was now an air of uncertainty to it. 

He didn’t even have to know what movie you wanted to watch. The possibility of having you close to him was the only thing that was important to him. He was getting ahead of himself; the most that had happened was those light brushes and touches. But now could be the moment to change that, he supposed. 

“I guess,” he grumbled, shooting you a playful smirk to let you know that he wasn’t opposed. Far from it. 

He hated the small flicker of relief that flashed in your eyes. Like he could ever say “no” to you. Standing, you quickly made your way to the couch, Logan following closely behind, sitting in his usual spot against the armrest. And you would’ve sat in your spot, if it wasn’t for the feline currently occupying it, sleeping without a care in the world. 

He watched as your eyes flicked from your spot to the unoccupied one in the center next to Logan, and then finally to him. You were uncertain, but beneath that, he could see the longing in your eyes. “I won’t bite,” he found himself saying without much thought, gesturing to the unopened spot, a teasing grin on his face, “unless you want me to.” It was cheesy, yes, but effective. 

That was something he’d started doing, over the past few weeks. Teasing you. No longer accidental innuendo, his words were intentional, and set on getting you as flustered as possible. It reminded him of back when he was younger, cocky and self-assured, unabashedly flirtatious. It’d been a while since he’d flexed those muscles, but they worked just as easily as they had in the past. The roll of your eyes was forced, the grin you tried to bite back telling you all that he needed to know. 

He could feel the heat from your body when you sat next to him, barely an inch between you two. Maybe he was being over-confident, but he rested his arm across your shoulder, truly feeling like a teenager on a first date at a movie theatre. And when you tensed for a second, he worried he’d crossed a line. But when you melted into his embrace, something like a relieved sigh escaping you, any hesitations left his mind. 

You were resting against his chest now, the TV screen painting the room in an unnatural glow, images flashing across the screen out of his periphery. You were saying something, too, but he couldn’t make it out, too caught up in the haze he was in at your proximity. The smell of you, God, he could get drunk off of it. And maybe he already was, with the way his head spun, unable to focus on anything but you. 

“Does that sound good?”

Shit, you’d been talking to him about the movie. He found himself nodding in agreement, and if you suspected that he hadn’t been listening, you did a good job of hiding it. You just settled back against his chest, your legs stretched out, but placed in a way to avoid Maize. 

He never thought he’d be so thankful for a fucking cat. 

The movie started, but Logan only caught glimpses of it. Some kind of action/drama, he wasn’t quite sure. How could he pay attention to the movie, when there was a far better sight lying on his chest, smiling and enjoying the movie? And when that smile broadened as he let his hand move up and down your arm, the movie was an afterthought, background noise at this point.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, time insignificant to him, when he felt your body go lax, something fluttering in his heart when he realized you’d fallen asleep on him. The pure trust you had in him, that hit like a punch to the stomach, nearly making him recoil. You… you shouldn’t place this much trust in him. You’d shoved something fragile, delicate into his hands, hands that could only drop and destroy such things. 

He should wake you, get you as far away from him as possible.

But he watched as your face furrowed in your sleep, affection and something else hitting him so strongly that he was grateful he was already sitting down. Prying the remote from your hands proved an easy task, and tried to not linger on just how soft your fingers were. Shutting off the TV, he somehow was able to get himself off the couch without waking you, completely unaware of the turmoil wracking his brain. 

Picking you up bridal style, he was glad he knew where your room was so that he wasn’t blundering around like a fool. It took some effort, only because his eyes kept landing on your face rather than the space around him, but he eventually made his way to your room, laying you on the bed gently. Wrapping the blankets around your body, he debated pressing a kiss to your temple but thought against it. He was just about to leave when he heard your voice call out, laden with sleep, nearly inaudible. 

“Stay?”

Fuck, he shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. But it was like you’d put a spell on him, your soft plea impossible to deny. And the way you were looking at him now, sleepy eyes so full of genuine longing for him; he found he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no, no matter how much he should’ve.

With a soft sigh, he relented, slipping beneath the blankets on the other side of your bed. As uncomfortable as it was to sleep in jeans, he refused to undress, not wanting you to wake up and see him bare, and with no clue of what transpired. He’s slept in far worse, anyway. And with the sheer presence of you surrounding him, he doubted it would be hard for him to sleep, anyway. 

He expected you to keep your distance but was proven wrong when he felt your chest press against his, having turned to face him. He didn’t get to look at you for long before you buried your head beneath his chin, arms and legs wrapping around his body, effectively trapping him. Not that he’d want to be anywhere else.

He heard you doze off again, muttering something completely indistinguishable. Finally giving into the earlier temptation, he let his lips brush the top of your head, inhaling deeply, praying that he wouldn’t wake up to your regretful face.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

There was blood. 

Too much blood. 

It coated everything as far as the eye could see, a scarlet paint that glistened in the moonlight. When he looked down at his hand, they seemed to be the source of it, as familiar as an old friend. His claws were out, no sliver of the metal visible. 

Glancing around, the ground shifted; what was once a flat, crimson landscape was now covered in mounds, at least fifteen feet high. Mounds of bodies. He tried to take a step, but his ankle stepped on something soft, malleable. 

Looking down, the ground beneath his feet was no longer, well, ground. Countless bodies now littered the floor, their faces twisted in horror and pain, eternally sketched onto their features. And their faces weren’t unknown to him, either, a sense of dread washing over him as with each body he saw, their faces were immediately recognizable. Xavier. Scott. Jean. Wade. Too many faces to name. 

They were all looking at him now, faces that were once twisted in pain now in anger. Betrayal. The blood on his hands now made sense, the various slashes and holes that he now saw across their bodies now painting a bloody picture. 

He heard footsteps behind him, fast footsteps, completely unaffected by the difficult terrain. He was almost like a feral animal, the way he spun with a snarl, claws ready at his side. It was like he was moving on instinct, but there was a voice in his mind, his voice, praying for all this to stop. He just ignored it, drowning it out with the slow, methodical beat of his heart. 

Boom. 

Boom. 

BOOM.

His heartbeat morphed into a canon fire, making his ears ring, as he watched a shadowed figure run towards him. They ran, yet they seemed to glide over the grotesque terrain, completely unaffected. It was as if they were made of smoke; he swore he could see through their form. 

The shadowed figure didn’t stop, not even as Logan braced himself for an attack, crouching down low. It was when the intruder got within a few feet of him that he sprung, claws plunging right into the belly of the stranger.

He expected his hands to go right through. 

Instead, they connected with something solid, something warm. Flesh. His lips were pulled into a snarl as he watched his blades sink in, which turned into a look of horror when he watched the shadow fall from their body. 

Your body. 

He could hear the air leave your body upon impact, unimaginable pain in your eyes as you stared into his. He screamed at himself to remove his claws, and he, thankfully, listened. It was like he’d been caught in a bloodlust, and he’d just now snapped out of it. 

He caught you before your body hit the ground. The ground, which was back to normal, but all he could focus on was you. The way your blood now coated his hands as it pooled out of your stomach, out between your lips. Desperately, futilely, he pressed down on your stomach, the cry of pain you let out making tears spring to his eyes. 

“Fuck… fuck…” Blood pooled between his fingers. Too much blood. Your eyes, always filled with light and joy, were starting to dim. And then the anguish he felt when he saw fear flashed through them, using your last remaining strength to push away from him, wrapping your weakening hands around his wrists. “I-I… I didn’t mean…”

It was too late. Too late for explanations, for apologies. The damage had been done; there was nothing he could say or do that could change that. He could feel the way your hands began to slacken, growing weaker by the second, your eyes fluttering close. “No, no, sweetheart,” he pressed down harder as if that could fix it, “Keeps those eyes on me. Please.”

He could barely recognize his own voice.

But you listened, your eyes opening once more. But he almost preferred if you closed them, that way he didn’t have to see the pain, the fear, the betrayal. All because of him.

He couldn’t help the pained cry that tore from his throat. And to think he thought he could have someone like you in his life and not have it end any other way. 

Your lips were moving, now, but he couldn’t hear you over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was just one word, on repeat, and despite his best efforts, he could feel himself getting entranced by the way your lips moved, the horrific scene around him becoming blurry. 

Then he realized you were saying his name. 

Logan. 

Logan.

“Logan!”

It was like someone flipped a switch, your voice now hitting his ears, completely audible now. And you were no longer in his arms, but rather leaning above him, a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. When you saw his eyes, you pulled back, barely in time to avoid getting toppled over by the force he sat up at. 

His breathing came in heavy pants, his heartbeat the complete opposite of the one in his dream. Nightmare. It had all been a fucking nightmare, the relief unimaginable as he took in his surroundings. It was no longer the bloody landscape, but a room. Your room.

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for him. At least once a week, he’d wake with a start, claws ready to swipe at an unseen enemy, drenched in a cold sweat. He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in your bed. He was supposed to be strong, relied upon by you. God, he should’ve known better. 

He forced himself to look over to the other side of the bed, still expecting to see your wounded body. How grateful he was that you were sitting upright, kneeling beside him on the bed, worry making your brow furrow as your eyes scanned over him. Your eyes, which were no longer filled with distrust and pain, but of genuine concern.

“You… I…” He couldn’t get a sentence out, his body forcing oxygen in and out of his body at such a rapid pace.

“Breathe, Logan,” your voice was firm, but far from uncaring. “You’re alright. Just take a deep breath for me.”

It was like his body was wired to follow your orders, a shaky yet longer inhale finally gracing his lungs. You nodded your approval, yet no less worried. He hated that he was the cause of it. “Now out. Slowly.”

It took a few more deep breaths by your instruction until he didn’t feel like he was suffocating, yet his heart had yet to slow down. “Are you alright?” Was the first thing he said when he could talk, his voice surprisingly hoarse. 

Confusion flashed across your face, which quickly turned into surprised understanding. You didn’t respond, not right away. Instead, you let your fingers brush his wrist, a silent question, not sure if he wanted to be touched yet. When he nodded once, you wrapped your hand around it, but instead of pulling him away, you tugged him towards you, resting his hand against your chest. 

“I’m alright,” you finally spoke, your voice gentle. He could feel it beneath his fingers, and then the beat of your heart. It was constant. Strong. You were alright. 

“You’re bleeding.”

He barely heard you, entranced by the rhythm of your heart, feeling as his own heart slowed to match yours. You’re alright, he repeated in his head. He could barely feel the familiar sting between his fingers. 

“Logan, your hands. They’re bleeding.”

It was the urgency in your voice that finally snapped him out of the trance, finally focusing on the hand that rested on your chest. To his horror, you were right, the space between his knuckles was now splotched with congealed blood. It was nothing to the scene he’d created in his mind, but for a moment, he saw his hands once again covered in your blood, and he swore he was going to be sick.

Bolting from the bed, he stumbled over his own feet as he practically ran to the kitchen, not even waiting for the water to warm before he scrubbed his hands. 

And scrubbed.

He scrubbed until his hands stung, then faded as his powers kicked in. He didn’t hear you as you approached, calling his name out softly. But not patronizingly. He almost wanted you to be, so that he didn’t have to know how deeply you cared about him during his weakest. He didn’t want you to see him like this. 

A warm presence made itself known beside him, yet not touching. He saw as you turned off the water, a towel in your other hand. You held out an open hand, and it took a few seconds of hesitating before he was resting one of his hands in yours. 

You were so gentle as you dried his hands. Hands that had inflicted unimaginable pain unto you, you were now regarded as delicate objects, a small frown on your face as you worked. 

Nightmare, he reminded himself. It was just a nightmare. 

“Just a nightmare,” you echoed, making him realize that he’d spoken aloud. 

He watched as you dried his other hand, the act doing more to calm his pounding heart than he thought. Beneath the whirlwind of emotions that whipped around his mind, there was a warm sensation, one that started in the chest, and blossomed out across his buzzing nerves, calming them. 

The world wasn’t spinning anymore; you were there to ground him. 

“Are you bleeding anywhere else?”

Your eyes roamed over his body, and he could feel the concern radiating from you. He shook his head. He knew exactly what had caused the blood; he just didn’t know if you’d seen it. 

His response just made your brows furrow deeper, looking almost like him. “Then how…” he heard you mutter to yourself, only picking it up because of his enhancements. “You’re being honest?” Your confusion was understandable, seeing blood between his knuckles with no explanation, no wound remaining as evidence. It was just there. 

“I swear.”

You sighed lightly, your worry not letting up. Tossing the towel to the counter beside you, he expected you to drop his hand but was pleasantly surprised when you wove your fingers through his instead. If only you knew the images that still haunted his mind. 

“Do you remember when you asked me if I was more than just a construction worker?” He wasn’t quite sure why he decided now was the time to tell you. Maybe he knew you deserved an answer. Or maybe he knew he didn’t have to bear this weight alone any longer. Either way, it was too late for him to back out, your head tilting in confusion. 

“And then how I said you weren’t wrong.”

“Logan, you don’t gotta-”

“Please.” His voice was still so hoarse. “If I don’t tell you now, then I never fucking will.”

“Alright.” It was quieter than a whisper. 

“How much do you know about Wade? About his… abilities?”

“I know he can’t die,” you responded. “Grows back limbs, survives the impossible. Are… are you the same?”

“Essentially the same,” he muttered, not wanting to get into the finer details. 

If anything, you just looked more confused now. He didn’t have to read your mind to know what you were thinking. What does this have to do with anything?

“And… there’s a bit more to it.”

As much as he didn’t want to pull away from your hold, he did, holding it close to his chest. As far away as he could from you. 

He felt the familiar sting as he let his claws extend; what once used to hurt was background noise. As the adamantium blades stood in all their glory, a ring of red grew where they appeared from the skin. 

Your answer to where the blood came from.

As quickly as they appeared, they were gone, rescinding back into his skin with a soft metallic noise. And, like always, the skin began to close not even a second later, with no evidence of his claws existing besides the small patches of blood. 

He hadn’t looked at you once during this time, not wanting to see the fear, the disgust he knew he was going to see. But he forced himself to meet your eye; he wasn’t sure if he liked that your expression barely changed. You were silent, and he couldn’t stand and wait for you to respond; he was too fucking scared.

He turned back toward the sink, washing his hands for what felt like the millionth time that night. When he reached for the towel, however, he found that it was gone, nearly jumping when he felt you grasp his hand again. 

It was almost pathetic, the shaky exhale he let out when he felt you begin to dry his hands, just as gently as you had before. Acceptance. There was no disgust or fear on your face; he was foolish for thinking that you would hold that kind of reaction. He felt like he could breathe again, free of the weight that had plagued him for so long. 

Even when his hands were dry, you didn’t let go, bringing one of his hands closer to your face. You met his eye, then, your free hand hovered above, a silent question in the act. He nodded, still partially convinced it was all some trick. 

He shivered when he felt your fingers drag across his knuckles, then down, following the prominent tendons and veins in his hand. “They’re in here?” He swore you nearly sounded in awe. Just like always, there was no other intention in your questions except for sheer curiosity. 

“Yes.” His voice was shaky once again, this time because of the way you trailed your fingers across his hand, nearly reverent in your motions. 

They stilled for a second. “Do they hurt you?” There was a genuine worry to your tone; it made his heart ache. That warm feeling was like a goddamn inferno now, ready to consume him.

“I’ve gotten used to it.”

Another few moments passed of you simply touching him, the most you’d ever done. It made his head spin, for a good reason this time. “Were…” your voice was hesitant, cautious, “were you afraid that I was going to, well, be afraid? Is that why you didn’t tell me earlier?”

You’d just read him like a fucking book. “Why aren’t you afraid?” To any other person, those words would be a threat, one that would send them running. But he nearly sounded incredulous, suspended in disbelief. 

“You’ve given me no reason to be.”

The pure honesty in your voice nearly forced him to believe you. Nearly. “You… you don’t know the things I’ve done, sweetheart. The people I’ve hurt. Betrayed. Let down. People I know. People I care about. People I love. They’ve got reason to be fucking afraid. And you should be, too.”

He was trying to push you away. You both knew it. He just couldn’t bear the idea of his nightmares becoming reality. This was for your own good, for your wellbeing. You needed to get as far away from him as you could. 

“But I’m not.” You punctuated every word, drilling it into his brain. Your fingers now grasped his hand, squeezing it tight. “There are many things I feel when I look at you, Longan. Fear has never been one of them.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that. I could hurt you, just like in my dreams-”

“Dreams, darling. Just dreams. Nasty, horrible dreams, but dreams nonetheless.” He could feel your thumb rubbing circles into his hand. He wondered if you could feel the way his heart spiked at the endearment, body melting under the warmth of your affections. 

He could feel the pillars of his argument crumble away into nothingness, the barriers he’d forced up falling with every word from your lips, every gentle stroke of your hand. You were marching straight towards his heart, his scared, wounded heart, but your arms were open wide, free of any weapon. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” It was one last-ditch attempt, but he knew it was unconvincing the moment the words left him.

“You won’t, Logan.”

He could make himself believe you. For now. 

He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stood there, you never once letting go of his hand. The urge to reach out, to gather you in his arms, tugged at him like a siren’s call, but he feared he wouldn’t be able to stop there. Affection thrummed so strongly in his heart, that it nearly knocked him off his feet, body burning alive. It was a welcome sensation. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya earlier.”

You shook your head at that. “You don’t gotta apologize. I understand why you didn’t say anything, but I hope you’ll be more honest in the future. I wanna help you, and I… I want you to trust me. To let me in. To be a part of your life.”

It took a few moments for him to register what exactly you were saying, and for the first time since he woke, a smile found itself tugging at his lips. Not a smirk, not a grin. A genuine fucking smile; he doubted he’d recognize himself in the mirror. 

He let his free hand sneak behind your body, resting on the small of your back. A sharp inhale left you when he tugged you close, but he could see the excitement in your widened eyes. Nervous, yes, but excited. 

He dropped your hand, but he didn’t go without feeling your skin for long. He let his hand hold the side of your face; he doesn’t think he’s ever concentrated this hard on being gentle. It still stunned him, just how beautiful you were, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes. He was scared of dimming them, but damn if he wasn’t gonna try and keep them blazing bright. 

“Can I be honest right now?”

He felt you nod, your eyes dancing across his face. The tense and despair-ridden atmosphere from earlier had dissipated, a charged and heated one taking its place. That hunger, that desire, which he’d worked so hard to reign in, was breaking free of its confines; he didn’t think he’d have to hold out much longer, though. 

“I’d really like to fuckin’ kiss you.”

Even with the way his hand cradled your face, the way he pressed you in close, you nearly seemed surprised. He watched as you swallowed nervously, teeth pulling gently at your bottom lip. How he craved it to be his teeth, dragging and nipping at your skin. You just needed to give him the go-ahead. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Your voice was airy when you spoke, nodding in tandem with your words. “Alright.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up, the only proof of the fucking elation he felt. He’d no longer have to imagine what your lips would feel like, taste like. Leaning down, he heard the slight intake in your breath, the proximity making you just as dizzy as it was making him. 

His lips were millimeters away, anticipation heavy in the air. He felt like he should say something, words on the tip of his tongue, but his ability to speak them was lost. It didn’t matter; he was never good with his words anyway. His actions were what talked. 

So he closed the distance, the press of your lips sending electricity coursing through his body. His imagination didn’t even begin to it justice; he’d failed to capture the warmth. You were soft and warm and alive. A pleased hum left him, passing through his body into yours, making you shiver in his hold.

He kept the kiss short, wanting nothing more than to devour you, but he was going to take this slow, do it right. You deserved that, and so much more. Your eyes were hooded when he looked, a new hunger in them that he’d never seen before. Or maybe it had always existed, and he just refused to believe it was real. That you were real. That this was real. If he woke up from a dream right now, his disappointment would be immeasurable, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

He still held you, thumb rubbing your cheek affectionately, and you practically melted into the touch. “Logan.” your voice was hushed, already sounding wrecked, and the pure want he felt radiate from it was enough to make him stifle a groan.

“You want more, sweetheart?” 

He could feel the grip on his control falter when you nodded, a desperation in your actions that made him think you’d wanted him just as long as he had you. A question for later, then. “Only if you’re up for it.”

So much for keeping it slow.

He’d nearly forgotten the reason why the two of you were standing in your kitchen. Your words had done much to comfort him, your actions even more so, and even though there were still inklings of doubt and fear still lingering in his mind, they were easy to ignore right now. You were safe. You were alive. And for some fucking reason, you trusted him wholly. 

“I’ve been up for it since I saw ya, pretty thing struggling to get their door open.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He hated how disbelieving you sounded. 

Titling your head back gently, he let his nose bump against yours, his lips just ghosting over yours. You watched with hitched breath, eyes struggling to stay open. There were so many things he could say, should say. Words like gorgeous and stunning bounced around his head, but he was so close to kissing you again that all verbal functions in his brain ceased to exist again. “Very, very pretty,” was all he could say, before he once again descended on your lips.

The first kiss had been nearly chaste, gentle. A testing of the waters. 

This kiss was anything but that, an overwhelming neediness from both sides. He kissed you like it was the last thing he’d ever do, lips eagerly moving against yours, fingers tightening where he held you like he was afraid you’d slip away. 

He could feel you hesitate, right at the start, but it didn’t take long until you were reciprocating, hands now resting on his chest. Your movements were uncertain, yet your eagerness more than made up for your lack of finesse. It made him feel desired, wanted, a heady sensation. 

But it made him realize just how much more experience he had compared to you. Reservations once again flashed in his mind: you were young, this was wrong, you deserved someone your own age. But with how sweetly you were kissing him, he found himself losing grip on those thoughts, until they fell to the wayside, completely forgotten.

The hands on his chest tightened into fists when he let his tongue drag against your bottom lip, a light tease. The hand on your back moved forward, over your ribs, to where it began to toy beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing the velvety skin of your stomach. With every graze of his nails, every brush of his fingers, you shivered, tensed, and hitched your breathing. He felt like he was playing an instrument, pulling those sounds and reactions from you like he’d just strummed his fingers over the string of a guitar.

“You’re so fuckin’ responsive,” he muttered to himself between kisses. “It’s been a bit since you’ve been touched like this, hasn’t it?” Just like it has been for him. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been touched with a kind hand, at least before he met you.

You froze, pulling away slightly, looking like a deer in the headlights. He called out your name, a question, wracking his memory as to what put you off. Of course, I fucked it up. 

“I…” you trailed off, embarrassment flickering across your face. “No one’s ever…” you trailed off again, but he didn’t need you to complete your sentence.

He’d be a liar if he said the green monster inside of him wasn’t absolutely thrilled at the fact that no one had ever had you like this. Wanting. Needing. Lips swollen and parted for him. Your hesitancy over the past weeks made sense now; it wasn’t a lack of wanting, not like he feared. He couldn’t help the grin that fell across his face, a carnal need to show you all that you’ve been missing, all that you deserved, taking over his mind. 

Another realization made itself known in his heart; he was sure if it ached anymore, it would never work properly again. You weren’t lying when you said you trusted him.

“That was your first kiss?” Well, kisses, but he wasn’t focused on logistics right now. 

He could feel your cheek warming beneath his palm. “Logan…” you whined, shy. 

It made him chuckle, a low, gravelly sound. “No one’s ever touched you?” His fingers once again brushed beneath your shirt, your muscles instinctually jumping. 

Your silence was the only response he needed. 

He let himself lean in, past your lips, letting them graze across your cheek. They rested outside the shell of your ear, the temptation to pull at with his teeth a near insurmountable one. “No one’s ever fucked you?”

That made you gasp. Whether it was his crude words or how he spoke lowly into your ear, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that you now had a death grip on his shirt, shaking your head in response to his question. 

He tsked, pulling back, a teasing look on his face. “And I thought we were bein’ honest with each other, sweetheart. How long were ya gonna wait to tell me?”

The look you shot him made him laugh, incredulous through the haze of lust. “You know that’s not what I meant. It’s… it’s not the same as-”

“Oh, but it is. Closely guarded secret, weren’t gonna say nothin’ until I asked. Exactly the same.” The hand holding your face finally shifted down, down your neck, your shoulders, ghosting over your ribs until it settled on your hip. “Want me to change that?” He intended for the words to sound cocky, assured, yet they came out sounding desperate. Craving. 

Your chuckle died in your throat, turning it into a softer, needier noise. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who closed the distance this time, both of you surging forward, a messy collision of lips. He felt you make a surprised noise when his hands trailed down your thighs, and in one easy motion lifted you into his arms, your legs instantly locking around his waist. Not once did his lips escape yours, not even as he set you on the kitchen table, the wood groaning in warning. If he wasn’t so fucking eager for you, he would’ve taken you to the bed. He’d get there tonight. Eventually. 

Fingers once again found the side of your face, this time tilting your head back to expose the tantalizing expanse of your neck. He abandoned your lips in favor of it, immediately kissing and sucking at the delicate skin there, slowly moving down. He even let his teeth graze against the column of your throat, but never hard enough to leave a mark. Never to mark. 

Leaving your mouth free meant that he got to hear each delicious pant and noise that escaped you, echoing and engraving themselves in his mind. They drove him wild, even more so when he remembered that he was the cause of them. And no one else had ever had the pleasure of hearing them. The fact made his smile against your skin, how having reached the base of your throat, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You leaned back, your arms braced behind you, and the sound of wood creaking once again filled the room. “If the table breaks…” you warned, no real threat in your words.

“You know I’ll fix it for ya,” he chuckled, lifting his face to press his lips against the hollow of your throat, before letting his tongue drag a stripe back up your neck, tasting the salt on your skin. “And then we’ll just have to break it again. And again.”

A whispered, “Oh, God,” fell from your lips. Only me, he would’ve said if talking wasn’t the last thing on his mind. He captured your lips again, tongue pressing into your mouth with zero hesitations, needing to taste you. He could feel your responding groan, one hand abandoning its hold on the table to once again rest against his chest. He expected to feel your hand wander, but it held still, though he could feel the twitch in your fingers as you craved to feel him.

“Touch me,” he broke away momentarily to speak, and he felt your fingers twitch again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let me feel those hands.”

He nearly shuddered when you finally moved, running your hand up his chest, up to his neck. Just like always, your touch was gentle, reserved, which was lovely, but he wanted to feel the evidence of his effects on you. He wanted to feel your nails digging into his arms, scratch down his back, tangle your fingers in his hair, and pull. He wanted to feel your teeth sink into his flesh; the mark wouldn’t last long, this he knew, but it would be enough. Just maybe he’d be able to dissolve those hesitancies. 

So he hummed under your delicate exploration with your fingers, letting you get used to him, the way he felt. He felt as your fingers cradled his jaw, scratching at the facial hair there, but not as hard as he would’ve liked. It was certainly a pleasant sensation, though, his eyes threatening to fall close with every scratch of your nails. And when your fingers traveled to his hair, nails running along his scalp, he couldn’t help the small sigh that left him.

He loved the way your eyes lit up at his audible reaction, and he could see you storing that away for later. God, how he hoped there would be a later. You had no idea just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger. If you told him to leave and never come back, he would, but he would live the rest of his life in misery, waiting to hear from you one last time. 

It was you who pulled him into a kiss, one that quickly turned heated. Hands were moving freely now, one of your hands still in his hair, your other wandering across the expanse of his chest and abdomen. His own were toying with the waistband of your pants, pausing to look at you. “May I?”

There were no doubts in your eyes when you nodded, Logan thanking you with another kiss. The first part was the easiest, getting the button undone, as well as the zipper. The second part, which was still easy, just required a bit more maneuvering. He felt as you prepared to lift your hips to assist, but he was already ahead of you, one hand wrapping under your arm, the other gripping the waistband of your jeans. It was no effort at all, to lift you with one arm, and to pull your pants down over your hips. And if your undergarments also came off in that tug, who was he to complain?

You were staring at him with wide eyes, a look he momentarily mistook for distaste. But the darkening of your eyes quickly corrected that statement. You didn’t say anything, just looking at him in amazement, fingers wandering down his muscled arm. But he could feel the way your legs tensed from where he stood between them, an even more ravenous hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed being lifted like you weighed nothing. Just like you had, he stored that info for later. Something to explore later, maybe even later tonight. 

The surprised noise you made when he dropped to his knees nearly made him chuckle if he wasn’t so entranced by the sight in front of him. Your mouth, glistening in the low light, parted as you stared down at him. The heavy rise and fall of your chest beneath your shirt, yet waiting for his next move with bated breath. Your exposed pussy, evidence of your arousal visible, and all for him. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

The grin he had on his face, he knew, was nothing more than arrogant, but he couldn’t help himself. Hooking one of your legs over his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, never once breaking eye contact.

He pressed another one, this one a little closer to your center. He was practically fucking salivating, the urge to just start devouring you like a starved man would a full-course dinner. But the desire to make this enjoyable for you helped him curb his hunger. 

The third and final kiss was pressed right at the junction of your hip and thigh, millimeters away from where he ached to be. Where you ached for him to be if the hand that carded into his hair told him anything. Who was he to deny such a simple request?

It only took one pass of his tongue through your folds for him to become addicted. 

The way you tasted, the way your thighs clenched around his head, the soft pant of his name. Fuck, he loved it all. He continued to lap at you, broad swipes that left you keening and wanting more. Your fingers, which had a hold on his hair, pulled tight, and he fucking moaned. 

He saw the alarm in your eyes before you tried to yank your hand away, afraid you’d done something he didn’t like. He caught your wrist before you could, forcing your hand back to where it’d been. You complied, but only slightly, refusing to bend your fingers. “Logan… I-I’ll hurt you,” you whispered, your speech not yet impeded by his tongue. 

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

The only way he knew you heard him was the flash of realization in your eyes, then laughing in disbelief, which sounded more like a harsh exhale, yet still not complying. “C’mon, make it hurt,” his voice was a growl at this point, and he could feel the way your body reacted to his words. You weren’t lying; you did like his voice. “I’m a big boy, I can handle ya.”

Finally, fucking finally, you sunk your fingers into his hair, and you pulled hard, pulling him deeper into you. He could die happy now; at least until he made you come. He turned vicious, like a switch had been flipped, tongue now targeting your clit with precise circular motions, occasionally pressing into your entrance, which earned him a beautiful moan from you. 

He was hardly quiet, either, groaning with every pull and tug, and he knew you could feel it. The confines of his pants were becoming unbearable now, but he didn’t dare tear his hands away from your body to fix it. He doubted he’d have to wait long, anyway, with the way your thighs shook around his head, the way your walls fluttered around his tongue. The only thing you were crying was his name, a song that would be stuck in his head for the rest of time. 

“Logan… I’m-”

“You gonna come, sweetheart?”

You made some noise in agreement, and he felt you tug him close, impossibly close. Fuck, he’d be tasting you for days. And then he felt you begin to rock your hips, back and forth, and you were using his fucking face to get off. The noise he let out at that realization was animalistic, more growl than groan; he felt like he was about to combust. 

“Fuck, just like that… use my face, yeah…” He didn’t cease the movements of his tongue, but he began to help you rock your hips. “Come on my face, c’mon…”

It didn’t take long after that, a loud cry of Logan’s name cut in the air, and he was grateful that he’d kept his eyes trained on you, the sight of your head falling back in pleasure a sight he wouldn’t forget. The muscles in your thighs tensed and quivered, a gush of arousal escaping you, coating his lower face. 

It was when your legs fell boneless beside him that he finally let up, kissing the insides of your thighs one last time before standing back to full height. Your eyes widened when you saw the absolute disarray he knew he was in, hair tufted up more than normal, face slick with your release. But the grin he had on his face made you relax, with a weary smile of your own. But there was still a deep hunger in your eyes; you wanted more, and he’d gladly give it to you. 

He surged in to kiss you, but you stopped him with a hand against his chest, a playful yet semi-serious look in your eye. You didn’t respond verbally, instead gesturing to the towel that had been discarded earlier. 

He raised a brow. Really?

You laughed. “I’m not kissing you until you wipe your face,” you finally spoke, voice wreaked. “Your choice, darling.”

“As long as you call me that again,” he muttered, quickly grabbing the towel and wiping his lower face, a small price to pay, “Then I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to do.”

He stood in front of you, you still smiling from his words, hands resting on the side of your neck. He could feel your pulse, still thumping like a fast drum. “Can I kiss you now, Your Highness?”

You paused like you were seriously considering saying anything other than “yes”, but the way you leaned into him said that you’d already made up your mind. Your eyes flicked down to his lips, and the small nod you gave him was all he needed before surging forward again, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss. 

“Bedroom?” He knew it was a redundant question, but he needed to be certain. 

“You know the way.” Your arms wrapped around his body, legs following suit, you needing him as close as physically possible. It made it simple for him to lift you, only having to slide his hands under your thighs once again. 

The journey to your bedroom, however, was anything but easy. You were constantly distracting him with your lips, having grown more confident in your movements. You strayed past his mouth now, dotting his cheeks with kisses, an innocent way of showing affection made lewd by the rocking of your hips. And when your lips finally landed on his neck, kissing and biting, he swore his arms were about to give out. 

Eventually, after many stops pressing you against the wall and kissing the breath from your lungs, he made it to the bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed. You didn’t stay on your back for even a second, sitting upright as Logan began to tug off his shirt. 

His ego has never been so filled, the way you stared at him when his shirt was finally off. He knew he was a decent-looking guy, having garnered the attention of many people throughout his lifetime. But there was something about the way you regarded him, like he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, that made him want to puff out his chest. 

You only hesitated for a second before letting your hands drift across his chest; it pleased him to see you grow so confident around him in such a short amount of time. He heard you mutter something, too caught up in the sensation of the drag of your fingers to make it out. “What was that?”

“You’re beautiful.” 

Not hot. Not sexy. Not something he’d heard a thousand times. No, you said beautiful. He… he couldn’t think of a time when someone’s called him that and meant it. It made him falter for a second, suddenly feeling vulnerable. But he forced himself to relax; he could be vulnerable with you, at least for a little bit. 

So instead of deflecting your compliment with one of his own, at least not yet, he let the words wash over him, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. It was the gentlest kiss that night, yet so far, it had been his favorite. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

And just as quickly as it came, his vulnerable demeanor vanished, replaced by the confident aura he’d had all night. Tugging at the hem of your shirt, he murmured against your lips, “Lift your arms.”

When you did, he pulled your shirt from your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor, before letting out a noise that sounded wounded at the sight of you finally bare before him. He saw the instinctual twitch of your muscles as you almost covered yourself, but you kept your hands at your side.

“I think we both know who’s the beautiful one here,” he muttered, watching as you turned your head away, bashful. He would have none of that, now. Tugging your chin, he redirected your gaze to be on him again. “I should’ve said it earlier. Should’ve said it the moment I met ya. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Logan…”

“Do you know how fuckin’ hard it's been, trying to think about anything but you? Fuck, I can’t get you out of my mind. Every. Fuckin’. Minute.” He hadn’t meant for that much to spill out, but he certainly wasn’t complaining when your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. The feel of your chest against his made him groan, lips opening against yours, and you used that opportunity to sneak your tongue in. You were getting so bold; it was driving him crazy. 

Pretending like your sudden small display of dominance didn’t make his cock twitch, he eased you back down on the bed, your legs wrapped around his waist. The only barrier between you two was his jeans, and he could feel you began to rock your hips, grinding directly against his covered cock. But when you pulled your lips away to utter a surprised oh, your confidence faltering as you felt him. 

“I’ll get ya nice and ready for me, gorgeous,” he couldn’t help the slight prideful tone; he was still a man, after all. He let his hands wander down your body, feeling and caressing as he went, making you arch your back in his hands, making a noise that nearly sounded like a laugh. When he reached your hips, you let your legs drop, and although he missed the sensation, what he was about to do would more than make up for it. 

Sneaking a hand between your thighs, he collected your arousal on the tips of his fingers, his middle and ring, to be exact. He felt your hips jump, a bit sensitive still, but the look on your face told him that the last thing you wanted him to do was stop. He debated toying with you for a moment, to see you beg and plead with him to give you the pleasure he was withholding. But when your hips bucked again, he realized you were both equally as impatient.

He kept his eyes locked on your face as he eased his middle finger into you, no matter how badly he wanted to watch it disappear. A range of emotions flashed across your face: shock from the intrusion, to a mild discomfort as he stretched you, then to pleasure. Whenever he saw a flicker of any semblance of pain flash across your beautiful face, he slowed. 

He knew he didn’t have to move as slowly as he did, but something twisted in his stomach at the mere idea of hurting you, even if it was in the name of pleasure. Those images were still too fresh, too raw in his mind. No, he was taking this slow. 

When the palm of his hand ground against your clit, making you gasp. He could feel the way your walls clenched around him; knowing his cock would soon be in place of his fingers made him exhale shakily. “You take my fingers so fuckin’ well,” he praised, beginning to work his fingers in and out of you slowly, with short, shallow thrusts. “Bet you’ll take my cock even better.”

“Please.”

As much as he loved hearing you beg, it was for naught; he’d made up his mind the moment you had asked for more. “In a second,” he reassured, pressing his lips against yours in what was meant to be a short kiss, but then you grabbed the back of his head, keeping him close. He was far from caring, especially when he could feel your moans with every curl of his finger.

Adding a second finger, he pulled away once again to watch your face, looking for any flashes of pain. It was hard to stay focused, especially when your fingers latched around his bicep, nails digging in hard. It took every fiber of control in his body not to just sink his fingers all the way back in, groaning your name, nothing short of pure desire in his tone. 

“Logan, darling-”

He had to muffle you with a kiss, stopping you from doing anything else that would make him do something reckless. His palm once again ground against your clit, giving you a moment to adjust before he was easing them in and out of you. And when he began to pick up the pace, moving his face down to lavish your chest with some much-needed attention, he could feel you slowly begin to fall apart.

“Just like that, yeah, you’re doin’ so well,” he crooned, the grip on his bicep turning deadly. “Fuck, you gonna come again, sweetheart?”

He felt you nod. As if he needed that confirmation. Pulling his head away from your chest, he saw your eyes, completely blacked out, then a flash of white as you bit your lip to stifle your noises. 

If he currently wasn’t using his other arm to keep himself propped up, he would’ve tugged your lip free, to let your noises tumble free. “C’mon, lemme hear ya. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this fuckin’ good.”

Like your body was no longer under your control, you complied, your moans and whines once again filling the air. He heard his name a few times, making him grin; who knew his name could sound so lovely?

It only took a few more curling motions of his fingers before your body seized, your voice dying, the only thing audible was a whine of air. He didn’t cease his movements, riding you through the high of your orgasm. When the pleasure-filled look on your face began to morph, that’s when he eased his fingers out, glistening in the dim light. Your eyes had just landed on his face when he stuck them in his mouth, the corners of his lips pulled into a smirk. 

He heard you mutter something about him trying to kill you, making him laugh as he released his fingers with a pop, the taste of you still lingering. “Gonna make me wipe my mouth again?” He teased, earning him a half-hearted eye-roll from you.

You finally seemed to realize the grip you had on his arm, your apology trailing off when you watched the injury immediately heal, no sign of you lingering. “Like I said, I can handle ya.” Fascination still lingered in your eyes, but not in the exploitative way he’d seen throughout his life, or the fear. When you pulled him into a kiss, he felt like he was something to be treasured, to be loved. He didn’t realize how desperately he craved to feel that way.

But he didn’t let himself linger on that thought long, especially when he felt you once again lock your legs around his waist, rocking your hips. “You are insatiable,” he grumbled, loving just how desperately you wanted him. 

“I need you, Logan,” he felt you whisper in the kiss, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. Feeling your fingers brush over his cock, intentional or not, made him bite back a groan. 

“Need you to let go of me first,” he chuckled, watching you frown momentarily before loosening your legs. 

Not wanting to be apart from you long, he was quick to undo his belt, the zipping of his pants drowning out your hitched breathing. He couldn’t help the relieved noise he made when his cock was finally freed, the rest of his clothing now on the floor after working them down his legs. He could feel your eyes on him, all of him, staring at him like you had when he’d taken his shirt off. 

It was then he realized a small, yet quite crucial part of this whole endeavor that he’d forgotten, not wanting to be presumptuous when he left his apartment earlier. “Sweetheart, you don’t happen to have-”

Like you’d read his fucking mind, you reached over to your nightstand, reaching for a box of condoms. A new, unopened box, he noted to himself, yet a smile crept across his face when you handed him a condom between your trembling fingers. “What?” You laughed.

“Just wonderin’ how long you’ve had that box for. Have you had it for a few months… or did you just buy it?” 

It was becoming clear to him that his second favorite thing to do to you was tease you. The way your eyes widened, then looked away; he was certain if he pressed his hand to your cheeks, they would be burning. “Oh, go away,” you groaned, moving to shove him with your foot, but he caught it, pressing a kiss to your calf before dropping it. 

“‘Fraid it’s a bit too late for that, now,” he muttered as he rolled on the condom. It would be impossible for him to unlearn the touch of your hand, the warmth of your body, your voice, and it would be impossible for him to unlearn the deep-rooted affections that ran so deeply for you. 

“Thankfully.”

He tried not to dwell on the fact that he could hear that same affection in your voice; he would need at least a good day to fully process it, unable to believe it right now. Instead, he let hands trail up your legs, grabbing your thighs and squeezing lightly, considering his option of what to do next. He could have you on your back, legs wrapped around his body like you’d done earlier. Or he could have you on your hands and knees, or on top of him, or-

“How do you want this, sweetheart?”

“I…” you swallowed, nervous. “I wanna be able to see you.”

You were going to be the death of him, if you made his heart skip one more time. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, merely returning to the position he was in moments earlier, and your legs instinctually wrapped around his waist as if they belonged there. And maybe they did, with how right it felt. 

Balancing his weight on one head, he used his free one to run his fingers along your cheek, then leaned in to kiss you. Your hands couldn’t decide where they wanted to rest, until finally tangling one in his hair, and the other holding his shoulder. He could feel your fingers curl when his tip nudged against your entrance, not pressing in yet. 

“Ready?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as strained as he felt, holding himself back. 

“Yes,” you responded almost immediately, sounding just as desperate as him. Thank God. 

Even though he’d done well to get you ready for him, there was still a flicker or discomfort across your face when he began to ease himself into you. But it quickly faded, your jaw going slack, and Logan was finally able to focus on just how good you felt. Warm and tight, he let out a choked noise as he continued to press himself into you, inch by inch, until finally, his hips were flush with yours. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and down his next at the exertion that came from holding himself back, but all of that nearly went out the window when he felt your tongue lap at his neck before you sank your teeth into the tendon there. 

It was reflexive, the way his hips bucked; he was the one being played like an instrument, now. “Fuck… you’re a lil’ tease now, ain’t you?” He tried to sound stern but found it hard to do so, coming out as more of a chuckle than anything. 

Your responding smile was anything but innocent, your hips moving in a wordless command. Start moving.

He was more than eager to comply, smashing his lips against yours as he set a moderate pace, prioritizing powerful thrusts over the rapid snapping of his hips. If things worked out the way he liked, he could experiment with that set your body ablaze, to find the perfect way to make your eyes roll back, make you scream his name, make you come undone. 

He felt you tear away from the kiss, head rolling back against the pillows as he thrusted into you, exposing your neck, which was just begging to be kissed. He could feel you squirm as his facial hair tickled the sensitive skin, lips and tongue lavishing your neck with attention. “You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned. “I knew you’d take me so well.”

His name hit his ears, but nothing more, as if it was the only thing you could think to say. Smiling into your skin, he pressed one last kiss to the column of your throat before he lifted his head, wanting to watch you. And what a sight that was, your face twisted in pleasure, something twinkling in your eye before he felt your nails tear down his back.

His hips stuttered, and if he wasn’t partially expecting to feel you dig into his skin, he would’ve finished right then and there, his lips pulling into a semi-snarl. You held too much power over him, but he was far from complaining. “Sweetheart,” he panted, a warning, “this’ll be over far too soon if you keep pulling shit like that.”

“I… I wanna feel you…” 

The pure need in your voice made him groan; he could feel the grip he had on his release faltering. But he needed you to fall apart first, to feel you come apart on his cock. Sneaking a hand between your bodies, he felt your legs begin to shake with the added pleasure on your clit, his fingers quick and incessant. 

“C’mon, you can give me one more, can’t ya?”

He felt you nod without question, before yanking his lips against yours. He was done talking, anyway, too focused on making you come. With every thrust of his hips, every drag of his cock, every twist of his fingers, he could feel the way you tightened your grip on him, voice rising in octave, until he once again felt your body stiffen, a mix of his name and a whine tearing from you.

It only took a few more moments before he was tumbling over that edge as well, his hips stilling as he came, muffling his noises in the crook of your neck; they were just for you to hear. After being pent up for so fucking long, the relief was indescribable, white-hot pleasure momentarily stunning him. 

He was quick to recover, easing from you slowly, apologizing when you winced slightly, trying his damnest to ignore the guilt that he felt at you being in pain. He apparently wasn’t good at covering his worry, because you shot him a look, your eyes hooded with exhaustion, yet your lips still held a smile. “It’s a good pain,” you whispered, physically unable to speak any louder. Logan, once again, was partially convinced you could read his mind.

If you read his mind now, though, it would only be thoughts of you, so he didn’t care that much. 

When he began to stand, you furrowed your brow in confusion, a small flicker of worry flashing in your eye. “I’ll be right back,” he reassured, and you visibly relaxed. He shot you a smile before heading into the bathroom. 

After discarding the condom and cleaning himself up, he glanced at himself in the mirror. As expected, there wasn’t a single mark on his body, but he was amused to find that his hair was stuck up in various spots, not just the two tufts in the back. 

He didn’t bother to get dressed before heading to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water before heading back. He saw the light was on in the bathroom, and so he let himself get comfortable on the bed, at least putting on his boxers now, your water now on the nightstand.

He didn’t have to wait long, glancing over and watching a very dishevled looking you sit back down on the bed, flashing his a grateful glance before downing half the water.

“How pissed do you think the neighbors are gonna be?” He heard you ask, making him snort. 

“If they’re smart, they’ll mind their own damn business.”

That made you chuckle, taking one last sip before scooting back into the bed, beneath the covers, and into Logan’s open arms. God, he was so fucking happy, so content, everything that just happened finally sinking in. And maybe he was a little terrified, but if this wasn’t worth it, he didn’t know what was. 

You pulled him from his thoughts when you began to examine his hands, running your fingers across the digits, just like you’d done in the kitchen. You spoke before he could inquire, your voice teasing. “So you are good with your hands.”

He was laughing when he pulled you into a kiss, and he could feel you smiling in turn. That warm feeling still lingered throughout his body, something he had been so convinced was just lust, just desire. But as you laid your head on his chest, he realized it was that, and so much more. 

He wouldn’t put a name on it. Not yet.

But it was no issue. 

He had all the time in the world now. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

On the other side of the wall, a very pissed-off Al was sliding Wade a twenty dollar bill, who sat with a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“I told you they’d break tonight!”

Author’s Note: does it surprise anyone that i got carried away with this lmao.

[peargreen-jellybean]

random, poolverine hurt/comfort idea. wade is a little less insane in this bc i think he mellows out a bit at home and bc i’m too lazy to write more

(below cut if you give a shit)

after the time ripper

logan wakes up and expects to be in an alleyway or the back of a bar bc the owner was too nervous to make him leave. expects a hard surface and broken glass in his chest. but he’s on a crappy couch, in clothes not belonging to him, and inside what looks like an apartment

the memories sluggishly come back, almost too absurd to believe, but when he’s fully awake he hears a radio and cautiously follows the sound to, he discovers, a kitchen

and there’s wade fucking wilson, wearing “i <3 hot dads” shorts, an apron, crocs. no shirt, no mask. turning a toaster this way and that, and shaking it like he wants information from it

wade notices the lingering man in the doorway, chirps a ‘good morning peanut’, gestures to a “hero’s breakfast” and tells his guest to help himself. the toaster is being a dick right now and he’s trying to fix it

a bit taken back, at the sheer domestic-ness of it all, logan drops into a seat at the wobbly table and takes the tabletop in. half burned toast, mostly scrambled eggs, and an assortment of other breakfast time items he hasn’t really seen, much less eaten, in years

what does it? old memories and guilts, recent events and their pains, the familiar smell of coffee, wade grumbling at the counter over a broken toaster like a strange picture of domestic living? really it could be anything, but logan starts to tremble in his seat. something is tight in his chest, too tight and still tightening. it’s overwhelming. too much at once

is he really going to break down here, now, in wade fucking wilson’s kitchen, wearing his worn-soft clothes and listening to a quiet song on the radio?

yeah, he is. fucking pathetic

but logan is startled out of his spiral by:

fingers sliding into his hair. a hand tugging at his head. his face pressing into a warm, solid body

wade has abandoned his toaster and now cradles him to his hip

logan yanks his head away with a ‘what the fuck are you doing’, or he tries to. wade doesn’t let him escape far, pulling him back into the dip of his hip. gently holding him and rubbing his scalp with his fingertips once he feels logan give up the fight

‘easy peanut.’ wade hesitates for a moment. ‘vanessa used to do this… when shit got really bad.’

he doesn’t elaborate. he doesn’t have to. the weight of the softly spoken words is enough.

and while he wants to fight it- he doesn’t need sentimental crap or pity- logan takes a breath just long enough to pause here in this moment, and let’s himself feel

wade is constant, steady; the weight of his hand gentle, but grounding. the dip of his hip holding his head near perfectly. the warmth of him seeping into his skin, then flesh, then bones, settling in his chest

wade is anchoring him

maybe he should fight this, or be annoyed, or just generally pissed at the coddling, but when was the last time he was held like this? comforted like this?

wade will be insufferable after this, probably smug and a whole new level of too comfortable touching him, but right now, right here, he’s calming. he’s- something logan can’t quite name

and call him weak, call him pathetic- because maybe he is- he’s gonna savor this for as long as he can

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

that’s it. that’s all i got. enjoy, or don’t. that’s up to you ig