#logan delos x woc

[benbarnesescape]

Drowning

Logan Delos x Reader

Warnings: None. Language. Mainly fluff

A/N: So I got some pretty upsetting news this past week and just needed to channel this out and why not with Logan, the poster boy of also internalizing your feelings.

The thick, wad of papers that he held in left hand felt like a paperweight, causing his left arm to fall on his left leg as he fiddled with the ink pen in his right arm. The soft, cool breeze that was wafting from the Atlantic Ocean hit his face, filling his nostrils with the salty spray but he was too distracted to notice, his eyes intently on your form as you stood outside on the patio. You had planted yourself outside ever since you had driven in from the city that afternoon, a forlorn look on your face as you stepped out of the town car he had sent earlier that day that had brought you to his private beach home in the Hamptons. He had been traveling for weeks, an international trade gone south and had found relief when it had been resolved and he could come back to the city – back to you. He had remembered an earlier conversation he had with you months prior about how you enjoyed working at the Hampton home, how you took pleasure in having the ocean waves as your personal soundtrack for work, and so he had arranged for you both to stay in his Hampton home for the next two months, knowing that the city was a quick drive or helicopter ride away.

But the greeting he had been met with this morning was the opposite than what he had imagined in his head. Instead of running into his arms and distracting him with the promise of sex, you had instead slowly walked past him, barely acknowledging him as you shuffled into the cool, air-conditioned estate. You dropped your bag on a nearby chair before you walked out to through the back patio door, walking through the white, clean sands until you reached the oceans edge where you planted yourself. Where you sat for hours, knees in the air, hand digging through the coarse sand as a light wind whipped around you, your eyes focused on the endless blue horizon.

At first, Logan had thought you were in a bad mood and needed to decompress. You never were one to advertise your problems, least of all to him. But as the fire rays of the sun met water, the orange gleaming into the tall glass windows of his home you had only budged to adjust away from the current, moving to the patio as your eyes rested on the strong waves that bubbled to the sandy shore.

Now the moon was high and you were still standing there, the short sundress wafting around your legs as you leaned against the balcony and he shook his head, unable to watch and wonder any longer. Knowing that he would inevitably be sparking a fight but rather deal with your hot, fiery temper than this new version of you. Placid and unmoving.

He grabs the knitted throw blanket your mom made for him, specifically for the beach-side home and gives a low shudder as he walks outdoors, moving toward you with purpose as the smooth pine wood silently creaks under the padding of his bare feet.

“Y/N?”

His voice is soft and mingles with the sound of waves crashing but you don’t move, just continue to stare out in the dark mystery of the night. He sighs as he throws the blanket over you, noting how cold your arms are and wraps himself around you to provide additional heat, drawing you closer to him,

“You’re going to catch a cold. Come inside…”

“No.”

Your voice is raw but clear and stubborn and he exhales, resting his chin on your shoulder as his grip around you tightens.

“Princess, I don’t want you getting sick. Come inside.”

“There’s no point.”

“What do you mean there’s no point?”

He feels you tense up, your grip around the rail tightening as you repeat,

“I think we should break up.”

The words take him off guard and for a second he thinks he mishears,

“What?”

“I think we should break up.”

You say it louder and clearer, your voice distant and he can feel his stomach fall, a pit that causes his breath to hitch as his grip around you self-consciously tightens. It was the way he had navigated through life for years, feeling uncertain – unloved – unwanted. And then you had shown him the other side, what it felt like to actually care about something, what it meant to feel worthy of love, to appreciate life.  You had done it simply by being kind, patient and yet unafraid to call him out on his shit.

The idea of losing that frightens him. Causes the small, punctured scars that faintly laid on his forearms itch and he has to control his breathing as he tries to focus on the situation.

“What?” his voice is louder as he pulls away, turning you toward him, his hands planted firmly on your shoulder. Your crying, thick, heavy streams of tears that consume your face and you keep your face locked on his chest as you repeat.

“Can you not hear Logan? I. Think. We. Should. Break. Up. You deserve someone better than me.”

His eyes soften, his hands trembling as he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You’re stubborn, just as stubborn as him and try to fight him but he uses his other hand to cradle your face, your eyes meeting for the first time since you��ve arrived.

He can think rationally, can move beyond his selfish emotions to focus on you because he knows that this has nothing to do with the both of you as a couple. That something, or someone, had planted a seed that had sprouted this phantom insecurity about you and his relationship.

“I am only a better man because I have you by my side. You are far superior to me princess. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t think it or even say it into assistance because I’ll let you know right now that you are far too good for me.”

The sob you make causes your body to hitch as you fall into him and he wraps his arms around you as your tears consume you. He’s never seen this side of you, this vulnerable part that has you broken down to your core and he shivers as he draws you closer to him, wanting to take whatever has triggered you to feel this way and shield you from it.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there holding you, the wind whipping around the both of you until you finally mumble incoherently into his chest, your face pressing against him. The words get caught in the soft fabric and he pulls away from you far enough to ask,

“Sorry princess, didn’t quite catch that.”

You give a heavy sigh, debating if you should repeat it before you lean into him, pressing your face to the side as you say a bit louder,

“I may not be able to have kids.”

The last word gets caught in your throat and you clear your throat as you try to cover up the next statement,

“I know that you may not want to have kids, I know that. I know that we never even talked about our future together but….”

Your voice is shaky and he pulls away from you, watching you carefully. He doesn’t know what this means for him. He’s never thought about having children. In his mind, he had made peace in not having the kind of future most people thought of with a wife and a child. He had barely believed that he was capable of being able to stay in a long term, committed relationship so the idea of reproducing wasn’t even a bridge his mind knew how to process.

He doesn’t understand what this means to him but he understands to know that it was probably a catastrophic blast to you – your identity and maybe he’d push to say you’re worth as a woman. Like him, society had taught you since childhood that you were supposed to reproduce – that part of your identity on this planet was to contribute to reproduction. This didn’t matter to him but he knew, deep down somewhere in your subconscious, it was ringing with you.

You had briefly mentioned to him once that, until him, you had never really thought of children or being a mother. You had immediately reassured him that this wasn’t your passive way of letting him know that you were interested in having children soon. Just that sometimes, you thought about it. That something inside of you triggered your brain to think about it. And he knew that the long draw of silence that followed as you went back to cutting vegetables for the meal you were preparing together, that maybe it was being with him that made you trigger this new desire in your mind.

He would never admit it to you, could barely admit it to himself some days, but he liked the idea that you thought about having kids with him. That he was what you had considered to be your partner in what could be the most selfless act a woman could make for herself and her partner. And when he thought about that, only then did he venture with what a life could look like with you.

So being told that the possibility of having children were slim, or that you possibly couldn’t, made him feel powerless. He couldn’t fix this. This was a journey he could get a ride on but that you would have to go through alone. And he hated that.  

“Princess,” he’s mindful of the next few words. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable – was still learning thanks to your urging and he doesn’t know if saying the next few words will betray that something else he tries to keep hidden from you. That future he’s equally longed for only with you. “I can’t even imagine to know how you feel. Can’t even begin to understand what this means for you and your future. But I know this. I will research and find everything in my power to support you in this. If you want to have children, we will find the best fertility specialist. We will research what natural methods you can undertake. We will see if I need to make my sperm stronger. But whatever it is, we will get through this.  You aren’t alone. And I know this isn’t a solution, know this isn’t even the point but we can also adopt if having a family together is what we decide, what you decide. Honestly, it may be better than sharing my shitty genetics and fucking up your perfect genetics with my imperfect flaws….my point is,” he tilts your face toward him, cupping you gently, “if you want to have a child I will find it in my absolute power to make this happen. You aren’t alone.”

He doesn’t know what you’re thinking as another stream of tears fall down your face, before your hands are gripping over his wrist, your cold fingers causing him to shiver.

“This might sound stupid but,” you hesitate for a beat, “…would you even want to have a kid with me someday?”

There’s insecurity and fear laced in the words and he smiles as he leans down into you, his lips brushing against your own.

“I want the world with you. I don’t know if I’m the ideal mate to have a kid with; I’m kind of a mess,” you chuckle as he presses a soft kiss against your lips, “But you’re the only person I’ve ever thought about even having a future with. And……. maybe I’ve thought about what it would be like to have you as the mother of my children. Maybe just a few times. That’s not what matters though. We’ll get past this. You aren’t less of a woman, less of my other half because of this bump in the road. Remember that. You are not a lesser human being because of it.”

You smile against his lips, before pulling away and pressing your forehead against him.

“You don’t have shitty genetics by the way. Being an asshole is learned, not written in your DNA.”

He laughs, giving you another squeeze before he whispers,

“I hope you’re right about that. In the meantime, I’d love to practice us practicing starting a family together”

He’s fluid as he finds the back of your thighs, lifting you in the air and you can’t help the high shrill that escapes your mouth.

“Logan! Put me down.”

“Only if you agree to practicing…” the grin that paints itself on his face is wicked and large and you can’t help but laugh as you nod.

“Deal.”  

tags: @just-nikkii, @ladyblablabla, @drinix, @youveseen–thebutcher, @marauderskeeper, @thesandbeneathmytoes, @cutie-bug