#logan knows rage and guilt

[peargreen-jellybean]

Here's a fluff/angst idea: Wade having an awful day and having self-depreciating thoughts, so he lays in bed in his fluffy pajamas, hugging a pillow tightly and starts to cry. Then Logan lays in bed with him, as the big spoon, tightly holding Wade to himself and shooshing Wade softly (a comforting shhhh) until Wade falls asleep peacefully

damn, that’s hella soft

the two of them have been thru shit and a half, and there are days where the weight is just too much. a sound, a voice, nothing or anything could start a downward spiral

but they don’t leave. they can’t leave each other alone, because dark nights and unrelenting thoughts will worsen the fragile cracks

so they soothe, they comfort, and they find a strange kind of peace together. even in quiet nights filled with nothing but strong arms and synchronized breathing

[elflutter]

— guard dog

kinktober 01 → dom/sub dynamics

sub!logan x dom mutant fem!reader

synopsis

Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is  protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him.

wordcount: 4k+ | crossposted to ao3

tags/warnings below the cut

tags/warnings: explicit (18+ mdni), dom/sub, light pain kink, light praise kink, porn with feelings, hurt/comfort, logan calls reader ma'am, reader wears a dress, pet names (incl. baby, pretty boy, kitty cat), degradation, oral sex (f. recieving), mutual mast., unprotected p i v, fingering, come eating, logan is compared to a guard dog (non-sexually), one (1) mention of collar play, no use of y/n. i'm sure i've forgotten something, please let me know if i have!

a/n: i have no excuse for this omfg. i'm a slut, ok!! and i am allergic to writing smut without including major feels what's up with that

thank you to the lovely @eupheme for looking over this before i posted!

You love seeing Logan like this. On his knees, eyes glazed over, beard drenched in your slick. Fingers tangled in his hair, hard grip pulling his head away from your cunt. You are bare beneath your dress, hiked up to your stomach, but Logan is completely naked. Looking down at him from where you sit on the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide. In complete control as he whines at the loss of his mouth on you, completely drunk on your taste. Candlelight and the Autumn twilight illuminating the planes of his face like liquid gold. Your core throbs where his tongue was just a moment ago. 

You hush him, your free hand cupping his jaw. “You miss my pussy, baby?” Your brows knit together in mock pity at the desperate sound he makes in affirmation. He grinds feebly at the side of your mattress, neglected cock aching for something, anything. Maybe it says something bad about you, that you get off on seeing him so pathetic. But you know he craves this too. 

He was embarrassed about it, at first. Being submissive. Getting hard when you called him your sweet baby, your pretty boy, voice dripping with condescension. But you could tell that he needed to unwind the second he woke up after you dragged him into the X-mansion with Jean and Scott. You could feel it, the emotions pouring from him. 

Your mutation is a difficult thing to control. To turn off. Sometimes, you feel like a creep. A trespasser. Knowing the deepest emotions of a stranger, ones they may not even recognize themselves. You think Jean and Charles are lucky, with powers rooted in thought. They can tease out feelings too, but their power is fundamentally different from yours. Thought is intention. Emotions are energy. 

“You can’t force your retinas to stop sensing photons just because the light bulb does not know you can see it. Even if you close your eyes, my dear, you will still be able to see its light, however dimmed.” Charles’ words from your first day at the mansion help to curb the guilt; when you feel like an intruder. 

You certainly felt like an intruder months ago, when Logan woke up in the lab, lit aflame like a wildfire. Fear and rage, as he shot up from the table. Confusion, as he pulled the IV from his arm. Idiot. You tried to ground yourself in something tangible, anything, to keep yourself from feeling him. So much him. The buzz of the fluorescent bulbs. The vent blowing cool air against your skin. The weight of contact where your feet met the floor.

You taught mindfulness and meditation to the students and your teammates. Helped them to guard their emotions from people like you. For you, meditation was like closing your eyes. You could still sense those around you, it was just easier to tune out. Like hearing music through cotton in your ears. When others meditated, it was like switching off the light bulb. Leading students through exercises in your class was your favorite time of the day. Sweet silence enveloping you like an embrace from an old friend. 

Later on that first day, when you introduced yourself to Logan properly, he grumbled, “Stay out of my head, bub.” His frustration butted against you like a battering ram. And you stood against it, the feeling piercing your heart just a little. Powers standing tall as a wall of stone as you told him that it wasn’t that simple. You wished they could have just crumbled. You couldn’t help but feel guilt eat away at you like it always did. You wouldn’t blame him if he hated you. 

Over his first few weeks in the mansion, you taught him basic mindfulness in one-on-one sessions. He had trouble taking it seriously; thought it was silly. A bit out, “No way this’ll work, bub,” as you led him through meditation in the training room, sat cross-legged on the mat across from him. You told him to close his eyes, to focus on the feeling of his breaths. “Now you’re just makin’ fun’a me,” as you told him not to fight his emotions. After twenty minutes, you could still feel the anxiety gnawing at him. Just as bad as at the start of the session. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze met yours— bright hazel making your breath hitch. His fear and anger and self-loathing were banked for a moment, and you felt something else. Understanding. Desire. You weren’t sure if it was his, or yours. Maybe both. He ended up in your bed that night. 

Your first few times were pretty vanilla. Him on top, pounding into you, sweat from his brow falling against your cheek. After a month of him fucking you into the mattress at least three times a week, he was still tense as he took you. On edge, knowing he was unguarded from your mutation. It wasn’t that the sex was bad. It was some of the best sex you’d ever had. But you could feel it, whether you wanted to or not. His anxiety. Curled up like a viper behind a bush, hiding just beneath his pleasure. Never fully letting go. 

He didn’t even hold it against you, anymore. Your mutation. Knew how it felt to be hated for something you couldn’t control. Maybe that’s what had drawn him to you in the first place.

But when your nails scraped down the side of his bicep, barely even hard enough to leave a mark, you felt the rumble of his moan, deep in your chest. Couldn’t feel that viper anymore, lurking just below the surface. Like it was carried away in the beak of a hawk as you marked him. He begged. 

“More.” 

You shuddered. In control, after that. Flipping your position so he was on his back, body pliant beneath yours as you rode him. Your breath was hot against his ear when you leaned down, bare tits tender where they pressed against his chest, to whisper. “Gonna let me take care of you, baby? Gonna let go?” 

Nobody would believe how his masculine bravado fell as he let you take control. From the outside, he seemed like the dominating personality in your relationship— undefined as it was. How his hand would reach in front of you protectively during missions, how he would bristle with a clenched fist if anybody talked a little too much shit during an exercise in the Danger Room. They didn’t notice how you could dismiss him with a nod of your head, how he would immediately back down from a fight if you told him to drop it. Like a dog with a bone. 

That’s the thing about Logan. He is protective like a guard dog is protective. And he is submissive like a guard dog is submissive. Oh, you so enjoy training him. 

And much as you tried to teach him to meditate over months since he arrived, empty his mind more conventionally, it never quite worked for him. But when he’s beneath you, eyes glazed over as you bounce up and down on his cock, and you can’t sense a single thing from his pretty little head? You know you’ve done your job well. Given him what he needs. 

“Such a good boy, making me feel so nice,” you croon, in the moment again. He sat on the floor between your legs, eyes desperate and wanting when you thrust your hips up in the air just a little bit. Teasing him with the movement, more than yourself. Your hand is still tangled in his hair as he tries to lean forward to bury his face in your cunt again. 

“Stay,” your voice is hard, careful that you don’t betray the fluttering in your belly at how badly he needs you. “I thought you were a good boy, but good boys follow orders.” You pout, mocking him. 

“’M sorry, baby, just wanna make you feel good,” he pants, eyes 

glistening in the dim light of the waning sun. Golden leaves rustling just outside the window. “Wanna make you come.” 

You smile, maybe a little meanly, your free hand squeezing his cheeks together. The other uses its grip in his hair to pull his head back farther, exposing the sweet column of his neck to your greedy eyes. He looks so pretty like this. If he hadn’t been so naughty, you would’ve told him as much. Instead, harsher words leave your lips. 

“Already so pussy drunk you forgot your rules, kitty cat?” You let your hand loosen its grip on his hair, the other still pressing into either cheek, forcing his gaze to yours. “You will make me come when I let you, hm? Can you handle that, darling, or do we need to stop?” The pet name is saccharine sweet on your tongue, mock sympathy dripping from your voice. 

“No ma’am,” he croaks out— words muffled by your grip on his face. You finally let go, comforter plush against your skin as you lean back on your elbows. Nothing but the weight of your gaze keeps him frozen in place beneath you. You wait for him to continue, expectantly. 

“Don’t need’ta stop,” he pants. “Just need you.” 

You love how the words fall from his lips. How he lets them. Tracing his jaw tenderly, the soft touch so at odds with the mean glint in your eye. So at odds with the swell of your heart, knowing he can let go with you. 

“I know you do, baby.” Your thumb strokes his bottom lip, “Now ask nicely.” 

“Please.” The way he begs has your core throbbing, the heat of your desire spreading down each limb like a flame. You almost give in. Almost. 

But you can’t have him getting spoiled. 

He knows he’s fucked when one side of your mouth lifts in a cruel smirk. You lean down so your lips brush against his ear. “I’ll let you lick my pussy clean after you fill it. If you’re good.” 

He whines; the sound a desperate thing. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” you guide as you tease your fingers at your entrance. Soaked, from your slick and from Logan’s mouth. Your first finger slides in easily, as Logan’s hand grips at his cock. He sighs at the stimulation, the relief, though you know he’d rather his face be buried between your legs. His tip is flushed, weeping. He ruts into his fist as your finger begins to move within you. Already so slick that you make room for a second. 

Sparks light up inside your belly, already sensitive from Logan’s work, but your touch is nothing compared to his. Your fingers are smaller, not reaching nearly as deep as his would, when you curl them. But you savor the control— as you fuck yourself on the bed and Logan touches himself on the floor. Almost feral for you. 

Locks of hair pulled from their little tufts where you mussed them, falling in front of his eyes. A bead of sweat glistens on his brow, before sliding down his cheek. His lips part; the sounds of his desire falling from them. Sweeter than any melody. 

And your mutation? Couldn’t sense a damn thing. So blissed out that his mind went blank. Letting each sensation roll over his body like a wave against the sandy shore. 

That’s the toughest part about this. Seeing him like this and maintaining your resolve, composure, control. To tease him instead of fucking him like an animal. And you will— fuck him like an animal. He just has to work for it first. 

You spread your legs a little wider, pumping your fingers in and out. Using your thumb to circle your clit. Teasing Logan with what you wouldn’t let him taste. Yet. You draw out his little torture, watching you get yourself off, so close that your heady desire is all he can smell. Climbing closer and closer to the peak of your pleasure, eyes hooded as they meet Logan’s, letting the sounds of his panting fill the air until you finally come undone. Feeling terribly vulgar as your walls pulse around your fingers. Growing even slicker, then. 

“Stop now, little prince.” 

Logan stops moving like he is bound to your will. You smile. He doesn’t even talk back when you call him little. Four hundred pounds of muscle and adamantium wrapped around your finger. You bring your hand, wet with your arousal, to meet his lips. 

“Open up.”

Logan lets his jaw slacken, his tongue jutting just above his lower lip to taste what you give him. You hum, as your fingers slide into his mouth and he hollows out his cheeks to suck. Your other hand moves to play with his hair, gentler now than it was before. 

“Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” 

You think that the noise Logan makes is in affirmation. Your fingers remain between his closed lips. 

“Gonna make you come now, baby.” 

Logan bites back a moan, glossy eyes wild with need. 

Fingers slip loose with a slick pop as you guide him up to the bed. You finally let your dress pool on the floor around your feet. Logan sits back against the headboard, flushed cock at attention. You climb atop him, hard muscles so at odds with his lolling head and hooded eyes. Feeling his length press against your belly as you admire the view. Such a pretty thing, sprawled out on your bed, waiting for you with a leaking cock. 

“So needy. Need me to fuck you good, baby?” You ghost a touch across his sweat-slick forehead. “Need me to fuck all the thoughts out of this pretty little head?” 

He nods. But no words escape his lips. You angle your head to the side, patient. 

His voice is rough with desire as he croaks, “Yes, ma’am. Please.”

You feign confusion.  “Please what, sweetheart?” 

Swallowing his pride. “Fuck me, baby. Please” 

You line up above him, palms resting on his toned chest, thick length prodding at your entrance. 

“Mmm, only because you asked so nicely.” 

You sink down on him in a quick, brutal thrust that steals your breath— his cock brushing that perfect spot your fingers couldn’t quite reach. Your mouth finds his neck, where your teeth nip and lips soothe. Inhaling his scent— cigar smoke and whiskey mingle with the musk of his sweat. Undertones of cedar from his shampoo as vanilla wafts from your candles. Your hips remain still, his tip nearly brushing your cervix, savoring the slick, sweet stretch. Logan lets out something between a growl and a whimper when you clench your walls around him, teasing. 

His desperation finally spurs you on, lighting a sweet fire in your core. Angling your hips up before sinking down again. And again. Slow, at first. You let yourself enjoy his thick length dragging along your walls, stimulating that spongy spot that makes you see stars. 

“Y’fill me up so good, baby.” 

Logan’s muscles tense beneath you, eyes squeezed shut as he fights the urge to move his hips. Aching to meet you as you slowly pump, to rut up into you hard and fast. You click your tongue in admonishment as his eyebrows knit together. 

“Eyes on me, sweet thing.” 

His lips move, searching for his words, but all that comes out is a garbled moan. His hazel gaze meets your own, brow heavy with the effort you know it takes to follow your rules. Your mutation still can’t sense anything from him. The strain purely physical, as his mind floats through the bliss of your command. Your chest grows heavy with the trust that Logan has given to you so freely. 

“So good for me, Logan. So good,” you purr. 

Finally, you pick up the pace. Raising up before gravity brings you back down, hard. Logan sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, eyes rolling back in his head. Quickly darting them back to your face. Tender flesh gripping him to the hilt, before lifting yourself again. A few thrusts like that, as the impact of your ass on his hips fills the room. If it hurts at all, you know he’ll savor it. 

You think fucking like this might break another man’s hips. There are benefits to having a lover made of adamantium. You can play hard, and never break him. He always has his safe word, if it becomes too much. 

Changing your pace again, more for your benefit than for Logan’s. One hand tangles in his hair, pulling. Your arm rests by his head, face hovering just above his. Each of his pants ghost across your lips. Thrusting quicker now, as you rock your hips up and down. Gaze locked on his. The sound of the leaves rustling against the window is drowned out by the bed frame squeaking. 

His velvety length dragging against your sensitive walls brings you closer to the edge of your release— his tip brushes right where you need it with each thrust as he splits you open. The burning tension coils tight, tight, tight in your belly; until you can’t stand it anymore. 

“Lo, fuck, t— touch me,” the command comes out breathier than you intended. But Logan obeys just the same. His hand moves between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit as expertly as your own. 

Molten heat races through your body as you tumble over the edge. Waves of warm pleasure sweep you away, Logan’s palm resting against your tummy. You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, rolling your hips as you come down from your high, lips ghosting against his ear. 

“Come for me, Logan.” 

He moves up to meet your thrusts, then. The pressure verges on overstimulation as his cock plunges deep inside. But you savor it, savor giving him exactly what he needs. 

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.” 

Your grip on his hair weakens to a caress as he spills inside you. You still your hips, letting Logan fuck you through his climax. Once he stops moving, your bodies go limp, enjoying this moment of closeness. The way his skin sticks to yours, damp with sweat. The sound of his heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest. He lets out a contented sigh, and you finally roll off of him. You enjoy the softness of the mattress against your back for a moment. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you finally spread your legs— making room for Logan to settle between them. 

“C’mere, baby. You know I’m not done with you yet.” 

Logan grins, wasting no time as he positions himself between your thighs. There is a mischievous little glint in his eye, face hovering above your cunt. 

“Finally somethin’ to eat. Had me starvin’ down there, baby.”

Bratty little shit. You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you then, rolling your eyes. 

“You talking back to me, bub?” You grab him by the chin, digging in your fingernails hard enough to leave little red crescents in his skin. But there’s a smile on your face and mirth in your voice. 

“No ma’am.” His chin angles down, looking up at you with hooded eyes. His smirk is devilish as he bats his eyelashes. Fucking bats his eyelashes. You don’t think anybody would believe that the Wolverine packs a mean doe-eye. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, the ghost of a smile on your lips, your hold keeps his greedy mouth just beyond his treasure. 

“You wanna rethink your tone, kitty cat?” Head angled, as you watch him through what you hope are stern eyes. You try to add a hard edge to your voice, but he’s so damn cute. 

It seems to work. His smirk melts away, and only hunger remains, desperate and glossy-eyed. “Yes ma’am. ‘M sorry.” 

Victory is sweet on your tongue, at his concession. The heady weight of control in your palms. Electricity snakes down your spine, each pant of his breath teasing you between your thighs. 

“That’s it, baby. I forgive you.” You pout at him, mocking. Maybe you’re a sore winner. You can’t help it when he’s so needy for a taste of himself on your pussy. “Now be a good boy and clean up your mess.” 

As soon as you loosen your grip on his chin, he buries himself between your legs. Stroking the flat of his tongue from your weepy slit to your swollen nub. Licking and sucking at your puffy folds, swallowing the mix of your slick and his milky spend like it’s the only meal he’s had in weeks. The squelch of him lapping at you and you moaning his name are all that fill your ears. You toy with the hair at the base of his neck, the roughness of his beard against your thighs making you shiver. 

“F-fuck— Lo, baby,” a lewd whimper escapes you, breath stuttering. “You wanna make me come?” 

He somehow buries himself even deeper between your legs, then. Nose pressing against your clit just right, as he devours you. Fucking you with his tongue, before moving up to lick quick circles around the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, Logan— fuck!” 

Words are lost to you, for a moment. Taken by the pleasure swelling in your belly as he slides a finger inside. Pressure builds in your abdomen when it curls against that sweet spot. You grind against him, eyes closed and mouth agape. 

“Know you can do it, baby,” you pant, spurring him on. Logan adds a second digit, bending to hit the spongy flesh. “So good for me, so—” you are interrupted again, choking out a sob as your core tightens with your impending release. 

Logan brings his lips to your slit, fingers still moving inside. His mouth falls open, ready to drink down your essence when the dam within you finally bursts. The pressure behind your navel gives way to warm wetness between your legs. You fall apart on Logan’s thick fingers, throbbing while he swallows the mix of your come and his. 

His fingers slide out of you, suddenly empty, and the milky ring around them could be his spend or yours. Hopefully both. Bringing them to his mouth, before he licks them clean. He goes limp when you finally relax onto the bed, his head resting against your tummy. His legs must be hanging off the bed comically, but you can’t bring yourself to lift your head and check. You choose to ignore the wet spot beneath your ass. The remnants of your climax and Logan’s inevitable drooling as he ate you out. Something to worry about later. 

For now, your fingers find their way to Logan’s scalp once again, touch featherlight and tender. You can’t help it when he sighs like that beneath your touch. If you had it your way, your hand would never leave its place here. Holding him to you, gently claiming him as yours. 

Your mutation is quiet, still, in the afterglow. At peace. And so is Logan. Head still floating in the clouds, blissed out and dazed. Somewhere nobody can reach except the two of you. As much as he needs this, the way you give him respite even sleep never offers, you need it too. The silence, after. As you lay with him, in tenderness. 

You’re struck with a sudden truth. Not sure how you’d overlooked it, all this time. A low whisper, as the sun finally rests beneath the horizon. Flickering candlelight and the faint fluorescent glow creeping beneath the bedroom door. The aged wood all that separates your little world from the rest of the mansion. If you weren’t so focused on that strange heaviness in your chest, you would have the presence of mind to hope nobody heard the two of you. 

“I love you, Lo.” 

Breath held in your lungs, as you wait. Just a beat, before he answers. 

“Love you too.” His palm rests on your waist, rubbing tender circles. His face nuzzles a little closer into your belly. “My baby. My girl.” 

The stinging behind your eyes catches you off guard. But, so do his words. You feel the truth in them. You never thought you’d have this with someone. Never thought anybody would trust you. An interloper. An unwelcome visitor, eavesdropping on the devotion of strangers, destined to feel their love for each other. But never for you. It was never going to be for you. 

But you feel it, now. Yours. Unsure why it hadn’t cross your mind before. 

Like a wolf, when you met. Wild, feral. Lashing out to bite any hand that got too close. Tamed, with your compassion. Firm as it was. You always thought he was like a guard dog. Faithful. Trusting. Once you’d earned it. Of course he would love you like one. 

You felt heat creep up your ears, at the thought of getting him a collar, stifling a laugh in the crook of your elbow. 

His hum vibrates against your torso. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah, baby. Think I just need some psychological help.” The words are muffled against your arm. 

Logan is still packing plenty of sass, even in his fucked out state.

“That’a surprise?” He looks up at you, a single eyebrow arched. You can’t help but laugh. Smiling, as you rebuke. 

“Asshole.”

a/n: aaah thank you for reading!! i'm nervous about this one, if you liked it please let me know!! 🫣

dividers by saradika-graphics

[fictionalmenmistress]

I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, so I wanted to share that Logan's rant monologue insulting Wade in the Honda Odyssey, before Wade decides to beat him up and they ~fight~ all night... that so clearly to me, was Logan projecting. It started as a tempered rant to cope with how annoyed and pent up he was, with the heat of everything and with Wade's muchness that makes him, him, but the longer he went on, the more he started ranting and exposing himself in the process.

"THE XMEN REJECTED YOU, AND THEY'LL TAKE FUCKING ANYONE!!!" That was my first hit, that he was referring to himself. He sees himself so lowly, so failed, that's canonical to the film. And canonically, he didn't even quite originally feel worthy or want to be with the XMEN. Didn't feel like there was a place for him there, a place for him anywhere. One of his biggest healings was Professor X not giving up on helping him believe that he deserved to be there, was wanted, was worthy, was a good guy. That's canon to his character. So we know he was speaking about himself. He was chewing Wade out, but he was also talking and focusing moreso on what upset him about himself. (He sees himself as just any jo shmo, when he IS literally THE X MAN ㅠㅠ)

He was seeing himself in Wade, how he "can't even save a relationship with a gd stripper", (he sees himself as not able to save anything either, and he's angry for that more than anything else he's angry or annoyed at) projecting SO HARD as he pieced together saying it out loud, that Wade was exactly like him. Logan hated himself for not saving anything. For being a "loser", a "failure", for all of the same reasons he was lashing out at Wade for. He was so angry and annoyed by Wade reminding him of himself, because he related to him. Wade was his reflection, in his eyes, calling him out so loudly with his own behaviors. And he hated himself. He deeply was suffering with that hatred for himself, and as a result, he lashed out on Wade when really he was chewing out himself, inside, admitting it.

"God's CRUELEST JOKE, IS THAT YOU *WONT* DIE ALONE. BECAUSE YOU! CANT! DIE! SO THE REST OF US HAVE TO SUFFER YOU THE REST OF OUR EXISTENCE!" (something along that.)

He didn't know for sure that Wade can't die. He picked up on that Wade can't be killed. Logan is the one who can't die. They are two flipped sides of the same immortal power coin. When he finished his screaming at him, and everyone was silent at how cruel and shocking the confrontation and his words were, I was sinking with a very empathetically whispered "oh, Logan..." Because I felt his misery. I immediately picked up on him really talking about himself, and I think that was genius and layered. I was upset for how awful that was to say to Wade, heartbroken for Wade taking that to heart, and I was heartbroken that Logan was saying that because he believes that about himself. Because they are, oddly, a lot alike. Very compatible.

This scene here:

I read that Hugh said that Ryan wrote that. He's brilliant with these films. It was so genius. I really needed to share this and bring this thought, meta, analysis to light. For all of us to have.

Is Logan mad at God's "cruel joke" of his immortality, yet ability to feel so much pain through it still? Yes. He punched the roof in rage, because it's not fair. Venting his own pain. He sees his powers, his own and Wade's too, empathetically, as their curse. The curse of being the one who lives, and the guilt with that. The one who can't die. The one who lives, who is forced to live, while everyone who "deserves to live" dies. And WILL die, around them.

"And You can't die. That's on all of US!" Logan says, clearly referring to himself living forever... And "us" being the people HE loved. He saw himself as a burden for existing with them, for them. He deflected that onto Wade, as if the people in Wade's life must feel that way too, but didn't really mean that. He meant it about himself. Logan believes he was a burden on the people he loves, the people he lost. That's probably why he left too, and didn't come back when they called out for him to. He distanced himself to protect them, and protect himself from that fear of rejection that he feels is so imminent, and them not having him, is the one element that led to none of them surviving without him. He was always the key. He was always wanted, and he was always important and needed. He just couldn't ever believe that.

Man, that's why it became so personal for Logan too, when he was shown Wade's photograph of his family. Because HE had a family, and he would do anything now to save them. Just like Wade. He held that photograph all night, he went and got it when it fell out of the car, he kept looking at it. It became personal for him, when he identified with it. That Honda scene really was their turning point of everything. That's when Logan cared with everything. He got it. Wade is the him he couldn't be. But now he can.

I dropped some heat with this one.

Extra little personal context/thought notes: Maybe I just spotted it because I have a natural knack for psychology, I'm hyperobservant, highly empathetic and deeply feeling, and I'm also years experienced of my parents and whole family treating me the same exact toxic lashout way almost every other day. That's a workweek for me to see through toxic lashout anger BS. These are not my gifs!!! They were created by another amazing account. I will refind their @ and tag them!! >>> It's @landoslastnerve ! Thank you friend! 🤍

Also wanted to include someone's tags from those gifs:

.

[raccoon-in-the-danger-room]

Sometimes I see reviews about D&W where people think Worst Wolverine's backstory is super lacking. That they expected something epic like how Mysterio tricked Logan to slaughter everyone in the Old Man comic run.

But that plot, at least to me, doesn't make The Worst Wolverine. It probably makes the Most Tortured Wolverine -- the story of a man slaughtering his own family with his bare hands because he was mind controlled. Which inevitably created a power vacuum so gigantic that the world basically collapsed as supervillains take over the world.

But the title of Worst Wolverine should belong to the Logan that completely abandons his most important moral value: to be the protector.

Sure, he tends to be nomadic and at times self-isolates, but at his core he truly knows what it means to be a pack animal: to be a part of a cohesive family unit, rely on others, be a guardian for the weak.

In a literal sense, a common backstory for him was that he just fucked off from human society after he mutated to live with a pack of wolves. He turned feral, but they also taught him about the importance of community.

Even if you aren't a fan of the wolf background (which I AM because I think it's funny and dramatic as hell), there's other stories where he got taken care of by the Blackfoot Tribe and Lord Ogun before somehow winding up in the Weapon-X Program. Then, the Hudson family rescued him and helped him gain his humanity back after the adamantium experiments. He joined Department H, and sometime after, he found his place with the X-Men.

My point being that past or present, Logan has always belonged to a family. He needs it -- his human AND animal side both need it. He's not meant to be a creature of solitude. When he is, it's a form of punishment that he inflicts upon himself because he doesn't feel worthy to be around the people he loves or he's worried about hurting them. Or it's something inflicted upon him -- aka he's been captured and is being experimented on.

So what does all this tell us about Logan's moral code? He cares deeply for others because it's in his nature to be a part of a pack and he will do anything to protect them.

He's very caring towards animals (ex. looking after wolves that took care of him, mercy killing a bear in The Wolverine, and saving the horses in Logan). He tried to save Silver Fox's life when Sabretooth attacked her. When his wife Itsu was murdered, he relied on the advice of Lord Ogun to get vengeance for her with the Muramasa Blade. He joined Department H and Alpha Flight because he owed the Hudsons so much after re-acclimating him to society. He stayed with the X-Men because Charles gave him a home, family, and purpose outside of being a weapon. He enabled him to be the good man that he is by not only using his powers for the good fight but also being a teacher for the students.

As a character, Logan was created to reflect the archetype of the cowboy/samurai with the morals of honor, integrity, and justice. He's also not afraid to be judge, jury, and executioner for the people he loves. He's a man of action.

So what is the antithetical? A man who dishonors himself by not taking his job seriously. A man of inaction who abandons those he loves. A man who doesn't seek justice but wallows in regret and guilt.

And what did the Worst Wolverine do?

He let his fondness for drinking harm his work. While he was drinking at a bar, a group of humans invaded the X-Mansion and killed a large part of the staff, students, and X-Men. He entered a berserker rage where he murdered the invaders AND innocent people. He tarnished the legacy of the X-Men.

The title of Worst Wolverine doesn't go to the man who got brainwashed and killed without knowing. The title goes to the Logan who killed indescriminantly and didn’t want to stop.

He chose to walk away when they called out for him. He went into a beast state that made the public completely turn against the X-Men in just one night. Instead of making up for his sins, he just went back to the bar -- the very thing that killed his family. He did everything he could to go against his morals of honor, integrity, and justice.

He was a man who failed his family.

THAT'S what makes him The Worst Wolverine.

[inkmonster21]

Love me Forever

Continuation of Love me Tonight

Warning: SMUT

~o0o~

Wade walks you across the hall with a smile. “But it’s your birthday! I made a dick cake and everything.” You roll your eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t actually make a cake shaped like a dick.” Wade’s smile grows even wider. He opens the door ushering you in. “I also got you a present!”

And there HE stood.

Logan Howlett. The Wolverine.

Not yours of course, but a variant.

Your eyes lock with Logan’s. And you freeze. Laura jumps up and hugs you. “Surprise!” Logan says nothing as he watches you. He looks as grumpy as ever and you swear you almost hear him huff in annoyance.

You look to Wade, tears in your eyes. “Is this a fucking joke?” Wade’s cheerful expression quickly fades, realizing this present might not be going as well as he’d hoped. “Of course not. I thought you would be excited, I just wanted to give you something special-“

You quickly raise your hand and slip him across his burnt face. Wade stumbles back a few steps, clearly taken aback, rubbing his now reddening cheek. He had expected some surprise, maybe a gasp or a small scream, but not a slap. “What the hell was that for?!”

“You didn’t tell me you brought… him… back with you!” You berate him. How could Wade do this to you? Wade straightens up, regaining his composure. “I thought you’d be happy! I figured you’d jump into his arms, or something..” He glances over at Logan, who’s still silently watching you intently. “I didn’t think you’d slap me.” You storm out in a tearful rage.

Laura watches in confusion. She looks at Wade. “You didn’t tell her?” Wade shakes his head, wincing slightly at his sore cheek. “No… I thought it would be a nice surprise, y’know?” Laura sighs, looking at you with a sympathetic expression, her eyes darting over to Logan.

“Okay so this is bad,” Laura says. Logan’s expression remains stern, as always. He still hasn’t said a word, watching you with intense eyes, studying your every move. Wade rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling the tension in the room. “What did you expect to happen?” Logan asks sipping at his drink.

Wade shrugs sheepishly as the awkwardness in the room increases. “I don’t know. I thought she’d be excited. Like a big fantasy or something.” He glances over at you and shrugs apologetically. Logan scoffs, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Wade looks offended by Logan's bluntness. "Hey, I was just trying to give her something special! How was I supposed to know she'd react like this?" Laura rolls her eyes, “Because the last time she saw her Logan they fought and then he died! God, you idiot!”

Wade flushed red, embarrassed that he hadn't considered that. "Right... right..." He looks sheepishly at you, realizing now just how bad of an idea this is.

Despite Wade's multiple attempts to seek you out and apologize, you find ways to avoid him. Whether it's taking separate routes through the building or simply locking your door when he tries to let himself into your apartment.

Logan's mind was preoccupied nightly with the image of you flooding his thoughts. He saw the tears in your eyes, the hurt etched across your face. Guilt tugged at him as he replayed the memory of Wade's confrontational ambush. He knew Wade had acted foolishly and regretted the pain it caused you.

He ponders the conversations you have had with your Logan, the moments you’ve shared with the variant and the memories you’ve created together. His mind wonders about the intimate moments the two of you must’ve shared. A pang of longing mixed with curiosity fills his chest, the desire to know more about you growing with each passing second.

Logan shakes his head, trying to clear his mind of the intrusive thoughts. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on something else, anything else, to distract himself from the intense curiosity and longing that threatens to consume him. He decides to refresh his drink, but his hopes are dashed as he finds that the fridge is empty, with no more beers in sight.

In a moment of resignation, Logan grabs his jacket and strides toward the door with determination. He knows exactly where he’s going – the gas station down the street, the only place around that's guaranteed to be open and stocked with beer. With a set jaw and purposeful stride, Logan steps out into the night, his mind filled with a mixture of resolve and anticipation as he sets off toward the convenience store.

You find yourself in the laundry room late at night, the soft hum of the washing machines the only sound in the otherwise quiet space. The pile of laundry in the basket feels insurmountable, and you realize you're behind on your laundry. You let out a sigh, the realization of the mountain of work ahead settling in as you approach the washing machine, the soft light of the room casting an eerie glow on the surroundings.

As Logan strides past the laundry room, he spots you, the unexpected sight causing him to pause in his tracks. Fate, God, coincidence – whatever the explanation, the timing feels almost preordained. Surprise flits across his features as he gazes at you, the image of you in the quiet laundromat at such a late hour taking him off guard.

Driven by an urge he can't quite explain, Logan quietly enters the laundry room. The soft sound of the door closing behind him echoes in the otherwise silent space, adding to the intimate atmosphere of the closed-off room.

The sound of the door opening behind you makes you look up from your task. It’s late at night, so you didn’t expect to see anyone here. Logan stands in the doorway, expression as grumpy as ever. He gives you a brief once over, taking in your laundry before leaning against the door frame.

Your hands automatically reach up to remove the headphones fully, and a simple, “Uh, hey” escapes your lips, your surprise echoing in the single word. Logan gives a gruff, almost imperceptible nod in response. He remains silent for a few moments, but his intense gaze never leaves your form. He tilts his head, taking in your expression, noting the subtle change in your body language. He studies you a bit more before speaking again. “You’ve been avoiding Wade. He keeps whining about it.”

A subtle eye-roll flickers across your features at his muttered complaint. You can feel your heart pounding a little faster, threatening to escape its confines. You force yourself to look away, the sight of him stirring up emotions you'd rather not acknowledge. "He'll just have to keep whining," you reply, your voice barely above a murmur, the words falling from your lips with a hint of sarcasm.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth, a mixture of annoyance and wry humor evident in his expression. He pushes away from the door frame and saunters towards you, closing the gap between you with a few effortless strides. He stops a few feet away, eyes still locked on yours. There’s a hint of intrigue and curiosity in the way he gazes at you as if drawn to you against his will. With a raised eyebrow and a casual tone, he poses his question, "And why's that?"

Your gulp is barely noticeable, but it doesn't escape Logan's watchful gaze. You shake your head gently, your voice coming out as a soft murmur. "Like you don't know," you say, a hint of reluctant acknowledgment lacing your words.

Logan shrugs casually, his expression remaining neutral as he replies, his voice carrying a hint of indifference. “Wade didn't tell me much,” he says, his words a simple statement. The implication hangs between you, hinting at an untold story that Wade chose not to disclose. “Just the highlights.”

Logan's voice continues, his tone still casual as he mentions your relationship with 'your Logan'. "So you and your Logan," he repeats, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. The words hang in the air, the mention of your connection to this other man, the other him, piquing his interest.

Your gaze slowly lifts to meet Logan's eyes, and you can't help but notice the similarities, the resemblance between him and 'your Logan'. There's a younger, more rugged edge to this Logan, but the familiar frown and the scent of cigars and alcohol are unmistakable. Surprisingly, instead of distaste, there's a hint of comfort in these reminders, a familiarity in the differences.

"It was dysfunctional," you admit, your tone laced with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and affection. "But I loved him." The words linger in the air, each syllable a confession of a complex and messy relationship, filled with both pain and undeniable love.

A pang of jealousy flares within Logan, a sharp twinge of envy for the late Logan and the connection you two shared. His chest tightens at the knowledge that you had endured hurt and disappointment at the hands of another man, another him, yet you remained fiercely loyal.

The question leaves your lips, curiosity, and a hint of hope coloring the words. "Did you have a me? In your universe?" The thought has been at the back of your mind, the possibility lingering like an unasked question.

The softness in Logan's gaze is brief, but it doesn't escape your notice. As he shakes his head, replying with a quiet "No," a hint of what might have been, a glimpse of loss or regret, flickers across his sharp features. "He was lucky," he adds, a touch of resignation in his words, an admission that your absence in his universe is both a lack and a blessing.

The implications of Logan's response hang in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the dark possibilities in his reality. If he had a version of you, given the dangerous world he inhabited, chances were high that you wouldn't be alive or would harbor deep resentment towards him.

Your eyes avert from his gaze, unable to bear the mixture of emotions swirling within you. It's a jarring reminder that he's not your Logan. The pain of loss coupled with the presence of a man who resembles him so closely creates a maelstrom of feelings you can barely contain.

With a small, somewhat forced smile, you gather your laundry and hoist the basket into your arms. The need to escape the tense atmosphere and conflicting emotions prompts you to take a step back. "see you around," you murmur, the words carrying a hint of resignation.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words and conflicting emotions. Logan's expression remains stoic, his usual frown still intact, but his eyes betray a maelstrom of thoughts and feelings he can't quite articulate. He watches as you turn to leave, the laundry basket clutched in your arms. “Hope so.”

Wade slams his head against your door, his voice rising in a whiny, insistent tone as he loudly calls out your name, desperation evident in his words. However, all his efforts are futile, as you’re not home to hear or respond to his desperate pleas.

You spot Wade propped up against your door, his presence causing you to roll your eyes and let out a small sigh. "What are you doing, Wade?" you ask, a mixture of annoyance and resignation in your voice as you approach.

Wade’s head whips around to face you as you approach, his expression a mix of surprise and relief. He pushes himself away from the door, standing up straight and giving you an awkward smile. “Hey, there you are,” he says, his voice still carrying a hint of the whiny tone he had just moments ago.

Wade’s expression softens, and his voice takes on a more contrite tone as he apologizes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words sounding sincere. “Can we talk?” You let out a sigh, the exhaustion from the events of the past few days weighing on you. "Can we just forget the whole thing?" you ask, a hint of weariness in your voice. Your hand twists the key in the lock, the tumbler clicking as the door unlocks.

Wade nods sheepishly, his initial excitement and hope dimmed by your firm rejection. "I’m over it," you say, your tone unequivocal, leaving no room for argument. "I get your heart was in the right place," you add, acknowledging his good intentions, "but it’s not going to happen."

Wade’s face falls slightly, the reality of your words sinking in. He rubs the back of his neck, a mixture of chagrin and disappointment etched on his features. "So this is it?" he asks, his voice tinged with resignation. “Mom and Dad are just going to live on opposite sides of the hall? Which weekends do you have me?”

Wade’s attempt at humor falls flat as you level a warning glare at him. He swallows the words that are about to escape his lips, sensing that you're not in the mood for jokes. “Wade,” you say firmly, “stop.”

Wade’s eyes widen in surprise, and his voice carries a hint of disbelief. "So you’re just going to act like he doesn’t exist?" he repeats, clearly struggling to comprehend your stance. You offer a nonchalant shrug, a hint of resignation in your gesture. "What's the difference between that and what I've been doing for years?" you reply bluntly. The statement hangs in the air, carrying the weight of all the years where you’ve effectively lived your life without the Wolverine’s existence.

You decide not to engage in further discussions or confrontations. Instead, you make a conscious decision to distance yourself from the source of your pain. With a firm resolve, you inform Wade that from now on, the movie nights would have to take place in your apartment, and you would not step foot in his again. Despite the strain in your relationship, you find solace in the familiar routine of your karaoke nights together.

In your daily routine, you occasionally cross paths with Logan, offering a polite, friendly greeting each time. But you never go beyond surface-level pleasantries, not allowing yourself to get close or engage in anything beyond a short exchange. Despite the casual veneer, there’s an underlying tension hanging in the air, a silent, unspoken understanding between you that keeps your interactions brief and fleeting.

Wade lets out a hearty laugh as he closes the door, a sense of lightheartedness in his tone. He quickly peels off his pick glasses and matching feathered robe, discarding them on the floor with a carefree gesture. Wade struts into the kitchen, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. “What. A. NIGHT!” he crows, his voice filled with exhilaration and amusement. He makes a beeline for the refrigerator, clearly on a mission to satisfy his appetite.

You follow in Wade’s wake, your movements a little unsteady from the evening’s indulgences. A wide grin spreads across your face as you laugh softly, your carefree demeanor matching Wade’s exuberant mood.

Logan reclines in the bed, relishing the comfort and space it provides, a stark contrast to the cramped sofa he's been using. He can't deny that the proximity to your apartment is both a curse and a comfort. The sounds of your movements and mutterings occasionally drifted into his ears, reminding him of your presence just beyond the thin walls.

You glance around the apartment, a sense of caution and wariness in your eyes. You scan each corner diligently, double-checking that Logan is nowhere to be found.

Wade watches your anxious movements with amusement, the sight of your constant checking drawing a knowing smirk from him. "Calm down, would you?" he chuckles, his voice filled with a mixture of reassurance and wry humor. "I don’t think he’s even here,” he asserts, echoing your internal suspicions.

You turn to Wade, your expression still a swirl of irritation. “I just can’t be around him.” Wade looks at you with slight concern, sensing the depth of your feelings. "Why do you hate him so much?" You roll your eyes. “I don’t hate him. Not at all.” Far from it.

Wade raises an eyebrow curiously. "Then why are you avoiding him like he's the plague?" “Because… he’s not him. It’s a completely different Logan, and he’s not mine.” Wade frowns, understanding dawning on his features. "I see... So, it's not really about him, it's about what he represents, right? This different Logan, he reminds you of what you've lost, doesn’t he?” “Everything on that man is the same as my Logan.” Wade nods thoughtfully. "He's still a different Logan at the core, right? His past, his memories, his experiences. All are probably vastly different from your Logan."

You let out a frustrated huff, the memory of the laundry room incident replaying incessantly in your mind. It’s a constant loop, each time filling you with the same mix of conflicting emotions. Frustration, confusion, sadness, anger, and a strange, inexplicable longing.

The constant presence of his very essence, his reminders, the memory of his eyes, and his voice, it's all too much to bear. The question fills you with an equal amount of irritation and desire.

Fate, in its twisted and perverse way, always seems to find a way to disrupt the peace of your life. It’s an unsettling thought, the notion that there is some invisible force at play, guiding your steps towards unexpected and often unwelcome events. The very thought sends a shiver down your spine as if a dark cloud was hovering over you, ready to burst at any moment.

You are abruptly interrupted by three hard knocks on your door, the sound cutting through the room like a blade. The unexpected interruption sends a jolt of surprise through you, causing you to jump slightly.

As you swing open the door, your expression is a mixture of surprise and annoyance at the unexpected visitor. Standing outside your door is Logan, his presence unannounced and utterly unexpected. Your eyes narrow suspiciously, your brow furrowing as you take in his unexpected appearance.

“Hey…” Logan's greeting hangs in the air, a subtle but loaded word charged with a multitude of unspoken meanings. His single syllable pierces through the silence, his voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the casual familiarity that had once existed between them. The tension between you is palpable, the briefness of his greeting only serving to heighten the underlying discomfort.

You respond with a simple "Hi," an undertone of confusion seeping into your voice. The casualness of your reply doesn’t fully mask the underlying surprise and wariness you feel at his unexpected presence. Your eyes search his face, trying to gauge his reasons for coming to your door, but his stoic expression gives nothing away.

Logan’s piercing gaze meets yours, studying your reaction like he’s trying to discern something from your expression. He leans casually against the doorframe, his body language relaxed yet the intensity in his eyes betrays his inner thoughts. “You don’t happen to have a key to Wade’s apartment, do you?”

You ponder for a second before shaking your head. “Kept telling him to give me one, but he claims there would never be a situation dire enough to grant me a key to his evil lair. His words.” Logan nods, a hint of irritation crossing his features at the mention of Wade. "Yeah, that sounds like his dumbass," he mutters under his breath.

In a surprise offer, and against your better judgment, you find yourself opening the door wider, a silent invitation passing between you. The words escape your lips before you can think them through. "Do you want to come in and wait for him?" Logan stands there, stoic and unreadable, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts. It's a risky move, but somehow, it feels right.

“Sure. Better than the hallway.” Logan steps inside your apartment, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway as he brushes past you. He glances around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings, the unfamiliar feeling of comfort enveloping him.

The air in the room is thick with unspoken tension as Logan surveys your apartment. He moves further into the living space, his steps measured as he takes in the details of your home. Some of Laura’s belongings were scattered around. His eyes stop on a small photo. He picked up a framed photo of you and your Logan, his gaze lingering on it for a moment before setting it down gingerly.

Logan glances over at you, an eyebrow raised in mild surprise at your observations. He takes a seat in one of the armchairs, his large frame seeming out of place in the small, feminine living room. “good looking guy.”

“I think you’re younger than he was.” You say as you sit back down on your couch. The sadness in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Logan, his eyes flickering over to you as you sit on the couch. He says nothing, his gaze steady. The room is filled with a heavy silence for several moments, only broken by the faint sounds of the city outside.

"Listen," you begin, your voice firm and resolute, "I know this is weird. I have a lot of memories with my Logan and then you show up and Wade tries to play Cupid, and he just manages to mess up everybody’s life. Anyway, what I’m trying to get to is… I don’t expect anything from you. You know? You’re not him, and it's not your responsibility to pick up the pieces." Your words escape your lips in a heartfelt spill, filled with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability.

There's a slight edge of irritation in his voice as he speaks, a hint of jealousy peeking through his usual stoicism. He shifts in the armchair, his gaze never leaving yours, his intense eyes studying you intently.

"I know I’m not him," he repeats, his words punctuated with a hint of bitterness. "But is it wrong… if I want to be?" Logan’s words hang in the air, the weight of his admission palpable in the room. He stares at you, his guard down for a brief moment, revealing a vulnerability few people ever saw. He suddenly realizes what he's said, and his expression quickly hardens again, the tough exterior he's built up over the years returning.

Logan leans back in the armchair, his muscles tensing as he considers your question. He looks away, his gaze focused on the wall opposite him. For a few moments, he doesn’t respond, his jaw clenched as if struggling to find the right words. Finally, he speaks, his voice gravelly and low. “I see the pain in your eyes. The way you look at me, the way you avoid me. I don’t want to be the constant reminder of what you’ve lost.”

He wanted to be a reminder of what you had gained – the opportunity for love a second time around. It was a powerful reminder of the significance he held in your life, the second chance at happiness you had been given. The complexity of emotions swirling within you was palpable – gratitude, sadness, hope, and bittersweet nostalgia.

The room seems to shrink, the air suddenly feeling thicker as Logan meets your gaze. The intensity in his eyes is matched by the passion brewing inside you, a burning desire that you can't quite explain. You miss the scent of him, the way he held you, the way his skin felt against yours.

He seems to see this in your expression, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, a mixture of understanding and restraint behind his eyes. “Then what do you want to be, Logan?”

Logan hesitates, the words he wants to say caught in his throat. He stands up, closing the gap between you in a few swift strides. He towers over you, his body casting a shadow over your seated form. He leans down, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for something.

“I don’t want to be a reminder,” he mutters, his voice a low rumble. “I want to be something more.” The tension in the air is thick as you look up at him, your heart pounding against your chest. He’s so close, the heat of his body radiating through the thin material of his clothes. You can smell the familiar scent of leather, mixed with something uniquely Logan.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, a gentle touch that sends shivers down your spine. “I want to pick up the pieces.”

Just as you're about to give in, the sound of Wade's apartment door slamming shut jolts you back to the present. The moment of vulnerability passes, and you take a step back, your emotions overflowing. "Wade’s back," you murmur, the words tinged with both relief and resignation. "You...you should go," you repeat, your voice firmer now. The finality in your tone leaves no room for argument.

He looks down at you for a brief moment, as if he wants to say more, but then he sighs and takes a step back. “Right,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and rough. He starts towards the door, pausing just before he exits, his hand on the handle. He looks back at you one last time, a mix of regret and frustration in his eyes, before disappearing out into the hall.

You toss yourself onto the couch, letting out a frustrated groan. You can’t believe you nearly did that – opening yourself up to more hurt and suffering. A wave of self-consciousness washes over you as you berate yourself for coming so close to making a mistake. "What an idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief at your momentary weakness.

Logan couldn’t shake thoughts of you from his mind – he was consumed by your memory, preoccupied with you for every single hour. He couldn't help but feel envious of your late Logan, frustrated that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t enough to capture your heart. He couldn't understand why you’d willingly choose to stay single instead of considering another chance with the love of your life, a chance that he believed was being thrown away so carelessly.

It was another late night for laundry, and there you were, perched on top of the dryer, the hum of the machine beneath you providing a soothing backdrop as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. The sound of the door opening breaks the quiet monotony, causing you to look up from your phone with curiosity.

You look up to see Logan leaning against the doorway, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in your voice as you ask, "This going to become a habit of yours?" implying that this late-night laundry with the surprise drop-by visit was becoming a recurring event.

Logan chuckles at your question, a charming smile playing on his lips. He steps further into the room, his body moving with a grace that suggests he doesn’t take up space, he claims it. He leans against the laundry machine next to you, his presence now closer, a comfortable proximity.

The confidence is evident in his demeanor, his movements fluid and self-assured – a few heavy drinks in, his inhibitions, perhaps, lowered just enough to cast aside any concerns about the potential consequences. He leans nonchalantly against the laundry machine, his eyes fixed on you, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"Never was good enough," Logan begins, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "At anything I did." He pauses, his words hanging heavy in the air before continuing. "Not even good enough for you, " he adds, a hint of hurt in his voice. "Even when all you've wanted is in front of you. You still don't want me." The pain of rejection is apparent in his words as if the reality of your lack of desire for him has become a constant source of self-doubt.

You can't believe what you're hearing. "Where the hell are you getting all that?” you reply, your words laced with a mixture of disbelief and anger. Your words cut through the air, sharp and impassioned. "Don’t you dare try to understand," you continue, your voice filled with a mix of anger and desperation. "You have no idea what I want. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to live here with you? You’re every bit as enticing as him, if not more, and it’s driving me insane." Each word is a revelation, a raw expression of the desire that burns within you, the desire you've been trying to suppress.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, the raw emotion behind them echoing in the small laundry room. You continue, your voice cracking slightly with the weight of your confession, "You have no clue how much I want you, how I crave to feel you. It's a constant battle, trying to resist the pull you have on me, just like he did, and it's driving me to madness."

In a split second, Logan closes the gap between you, his hand grabbing the back of your neck with a possessive firmness, pulling you down towards him. His lips meet yours, the kiss is hard and hungry, a raw expression of the desire he’s been bottling up. You’re still perched on top of the dryer, the unexpected move catching you off guard. The kiss deepens, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your body closer to him. The room fills with the sounds of your harsh breaths and the rustle of cloth. Despite the shock, you find yourself responding, your lips moving against his in a desperate dance of want and need.

With a mix of finesse and fervor, Logan's rough hands explore the expanse of your thighs, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. They continue their journey upward, tracing the lines of your waist, his fingers slightly digging into your flesh, leaving no doubt about the intensity of his need.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing a path down your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He plants gentle nips and kisses along your sensitive skin, each touching a brand that leaves you craving more of his touch.

The moment is charged with intense hunger as you run your hands along his frame, seeking to free him from the confines of his clothing. Your touch is frantic and impatient, a reflection of the burning desire that is now consuming you both.

There's no turning back now, you're both already too far gone, lost in the whirlwind of desire and need. You might as well give yourselves over completely, and dive into the depths of these overwhelming emotions together.

You run a hand to his jeans, palming his hardening length. He pulls away and watches as you start unbuttoning his jeans, your movements deliberate and confident.

He watches, transfixed, as you free his thick, throbbing cock from its confines. It stands proudly, already glistening with pre-cum. Logan groans as you pump his length just a few times before sinking to your knees.

Taking his length into your mouth, you feel its warmth and taste the salty pre-cum. You moan around his shaft, sending vibrations through him, and he groans in response. Your hands cup his heavy balls, gently massaging them as you take him deeper, your throat welcoming his girth.

Logan's hands tangle in your hair, guiding your pace as he thrusts into your mouth. "That's it, baby," he grunts, his hips moving in rhythm with your sucking. "You've got a talent for this."

You feel his fingers tighten in your hair, and he pulls you off his cock with a wet pop. "Fuck, that's so good, but I want more," he says, his voice thick with lust. He pulls you up, pressing you against the cold metal of a washing machine, the hard surface biting into your skin.

His strong hands grasp your hips, lifting you to sit on the dryer again, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back. Logan pulls your shorts to the side, pleasantly surprised you’re not wearing panties.

Logan's cock hovers at your entrance, teasing you, as he grinds his hips, rubbing his length against your wet pussy. "Please..." you beg, your voice breathless. "Logan, I need you inside me."

"Oh, you'll get what you need," he promises, his voice dark and rough. With one swift thrust, he impales you on his cock, filling you. You gasp at the sudden invasion, your body stretching to accommodate his size.

Logan begins to move, his powerful thrusts driving into you with relentless force. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the laundry room, mingling with your moans and his grunts. He fucks you hard, his hips slamming against yous, driving his cock deep within you.

Your hands grip the edges of the dryer, knuckles turning white as you try to withstand the intensity of his pounding. "Fuck, Logan!" you cry out, your body trembling on the verge of orgasm.

"That's it, cum for me," he urges, his voice strained. "Let go, baby." His words push you over the edge, and you cry out as your orgasm rips through you. Your pussy clenches around his shaft, milking him as waves of pleasure wash over you. Logan grunts, his body tensing as he spills his hot seed deep inside you, filling you with his cum.

You both remain frozen, breathless, for a moment, before he gently lowers you to the ground. Your legs feel weak as you stand, leaning against the washing machine for support.

Logan’s smirk is a reflection of his satisfaction, a confident expression that speaks volumes about his pent-up desire. "I’ve been wanting to do that for a while," he admits, the truth finally spilling from his lips. You shake your head in agreement, a soft smile playing on your lips. "I think we both needed that," you reply, a sigh escaping your lips as you adjust your disheveled attire.

Logan’s touch is tender and caring as he brushes your cheeks with his thumbs, his gaze fixed on your face with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. His eyes search yours, attempting to read the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

Logan’s voice is low and sincere as he utters his words, his eyes fixed on yours. "I meant what I said,” he repeats, his tone firm and resolute. “I want to pick up the pieces. I want to be here for you, be what he wasn’t."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you return his gaze, his words hanging in the air between you. You move closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips once more before whispering against his skin, "You’re going to need a lot of glue for this broken heart, Howlett." The teasing tone was laced with a hint of vulnerability, a subtle invitation to mend the pieces back together.

Yes, he wasn't your first Logan, but he was damn well going to make sure he was your last. He held your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering, his voice tinged with a mix of determination and promise as he reiterated his words. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying right here.”

[urdreamydoodles]

hi! It's my first time making a request for the X-men fandom I've been reading some of your headcanons and I have like them a lot Could you make some X-men HCs with their non-mutant partner (the reader) getting kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization? (for all of the characters?) a mix of both angst and fluff

X-Men x Non-Mutant!Reader

You get kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Rogue & Wanda Maximoff

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- When Logan finds out you’ve been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, he goes into an immediate rage. His animal instincts take over as he tracks down the people responsible. There's nothing in the world he wouldn’t do to get you back safely, and the X-Men know better than to stand in his way when he’s like this.

- Every second you’re gone eats at him. He can’t sleep or even think straight, pushing himself to the limit. He keeps replaying moments with you in his mind, from the way you always reach for his hand in public to the laughter you share at quiet dinners. It’s a constant reminder of how much he stands to lose.

- When he finally finds where you’re being held, Logan’s unrelenting. He tears through guards and security, claws flashing, with only one thing on his mind: getting to you. No matter the odds, he’s unstoppable, determined to leave a trail of destruction in his wake until he has you safe in his arms again.

- The moment he sees you, injured but alive, he’s by your side instantly, gently pulling you close, despite the blood and rage coursing through him. Logan’s touch is careful, almost tender, as if afraid of hurting you further. For a moment, he lets himself feel relieved, breathing you in to remind himself you’re real and alive.

- In the aftermath, Logan can’t leave your side. He stays close, his hand always on you in some way, whether he’s holding yours or resting a protective arm around your shoulders. His eyes are intense, watching over you with a fierce protectiveness that only eases slightly as he feels you start to recover.

- Once you’re safe and back at the mansion, Logan’s softer side starts to show through. He cooks you meals, often in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, his silent way of caring for you. There’s a gentleness to him that surprises even him, and he realizes just how deeply he cares about you.

- Logan blames himself, though he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s never been good at keeping the people he loves safe, and he worries about putting you in danger just by being with you. But when you reach for his hand and tell him you wouldn’t have it any other way, he can’t help but hold on tightly, grateful to have you in his life.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy’s heart practically stops when he finds out you’ve been taken. His mind races, and for a moment, he struggles to keep his calm, charming façade. The usually smooth-talking Gambit is left speechless, but his eyes harden with determination. He knows he’ll stop at nothing to bring you back.

- Throughout the mission, Remy is uncharacteristically quiet, his playful attitude replaced with a laser focus. His mind is entirely on you, and he blames himself for not protecting you better. In his heart, he’s already planning all the ways he’ll make it up to you once you’re safe.

- When he finally reaches you, his relief is palpable. He immediately reaches for you, running his hands over you to check for injuries, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. His voice shakes slightly as he promises he’ll get you out of there, his usually confident tone softened by the intensity of his emotions.

- Remy is incredibly gentle as he helps you back, supporting you every step of the way. He keeps glancing over at you, his eyes full of worry and guilt. He keeps telling you he’s sorry, though you reassure him that none of this is his fault. But Remy, ever the charmer, makes it his mission to make up for this, showering you with affection at every turn.

- Once back home, Remy dotes on you constantly. He brings you your favorite foods, even sneaking into the kitchen late at night to make you Cajun dishes his family taught him, hoping the taste will bring you comfort. His touches are gentle, hands lingering on you as if grounding himself through the feel of your skin.

- Remy won’t leave your side, and he’ll often stay up all night, making sure you’re okay. He’s vigilant, watching over you with a protective gaze. He even pulls out his deck of cards, showing off little magic tricks to make you smile, doing anything he can to help you forget the ordeal.

- The whole experience leaves Remy feeling even more attached to you. He confesses that you mean more to him than he can put into words, his usual bravado softened. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours as he murmurs how grateful he is to have you back, promising to never let anyone take you from him again.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s heart sinks when he hears the news. Fear isn’t something he’s accustomed to feeling, but the thought of you in danger fills him with a dread he can’t shake. He clings to his faith, praying silently as he prepares to go to whatever lengths necessary to bring you back safely.

- As he tracks down your location, Kurt can’t help but feel guilty. He worries that by being with him, he’s put you in harm’s way. But with every prayer he whispers, he also promises to do whatever it takes to get you back, even if it means facing his deepest fears.

- When he finally sees you, his relief is overwhelming. In an instant, he’s teleporting to your side, wrapping his arms around you tightly. Kurt’s hands shake slightly as he holds you, his usually calm demeanor slipping as he whispers reassurances, his accent thick with emotion as he promises to take you away from this place.

- Kurt is incredibly gentle as he helps you, teleporting you away in small increments to avoid straining himself too much. Each time he holds you close, he’s filled with gratitude that you’re still alive. He kisses your forehead softly, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

- Once you’re back at the mansion, Kurt doesn’t stray far from your side. He stays up with you at night, sitting by your bedside and holding your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your knuckles as he quietly hums soothing lullabies, hoping to comfort you as you rest.

- Kurt is more affectionate than usual, often hugging you tightly, as if afraid you might disappear again. He’ll sit with you in the quiet of the mansion chapel, where he finds peace, hoping that his faith might offer you some comfort as well. He whispers promises to keep you safe, speaking softly into the stillness.

- This ordeal deepens Kurt’s love for you, and he makes it clear how much you mean to him. He’ll often cup your face in his hands, looking into your eyes with a gaze full of warmth and adoration. He thanks you for your bravery and your resilience, assuring you that he’ll always be there to protect you, no matter the cost.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- When Scott learns that you, his non-mutant partner, have been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, it’s like the ground disappears beneath him. The composed leader the X-Men look up to feels his own world shattering. He struggles to focus, feeling a heavy weight of guilt, wondering if your association with him made you a target.

- From the moment he’s aware of your capture, Scott dedicates himself to getting you back. He spends hours researching the organization, analyzing their tactics, and coordinating with the team. Every plan he makes is meticulous, fueled by his desperation to have you back in his arms. His love for you drives him, pushing aside any other mission or priority.

- When he finally infiltrates the compound where you’re being held, Scott is relentless. His normally strategic, controlled demeanor is edged with raw emotion as he navigates through, using his optic blasts without hesitation. As he gets closer, he can feel his restraint slipping, each blast growing stronger, propelled by his anger and fear.

- The moment he sees you, bruised but alive, Scott feels a rush of relief mixed with overwhelming guilt. He gathers you into his arms, holding you so tightly, afraid to let go. His voice cracks slightly as he apologizes, promising over and over that he’ll make sure you’re safe from now on, his hand never leaving yours as he leads you out.

- Back at the mansion, Scott becomes the ultimate caregiver, doing everything in his power to help you recover. He stays close, bringing you water, your favorite snacks, and even some books he thinks might distract you. Scott finds comfort in taking care of you; it’s his way of showing how much he loves you, though he’s hesitant to say it outright.

- Scott can’t shake the guilt, though, and you notice him working even longer hours, studying tactics to prevent anything like this from happening again. He’s distant, and you have to remind him that none of this was his fault. He eventually opens up, admitting his fears of failing to protect you, and you reassure him, letting him know that you feel safe with him.

- Despite the angst, Scott finds a deeper appreciation for your presence. He tells you more frequently now how much you mean to him, his normally composed demeanor softening every time he’s with you. There’s a tenderness in the way he reaches for your hand or lingers in a kiss, grateful every day that you’re still here with him.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- When Erik discovers you’ve been captured by an anti-mutant organization, he feels a rage he hasn’t known in years. His anger is ferocious, laced with an icy resolve. To him, this is personal; he’s already seen the damage that prejudice can cause, and now it’s directly affected someone he loves.

- Determined to bring you back, Erik moves swiftly and decisively. He doesn’t hesitate to use every resource at his disposal, mobilizing his network and even enlisting some of the more ruthless members of the Brotherhood. He’s willing to cross any line to ensure your safety, and nothing will stand in his way.

- When Erik finally reaches the facility where you’re being held, he’s a force of nature. The metal in the walls bends and twists at his command, his powers fueled by an unrelenting determination. His rage is terrifying, and even the guards tremble as he storms through, focused entirely on finding you.

- When he sees you, injured but alive, Erik’s hardened expression softens in an instant. He holds you carefully, as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. In that moment, his fury fades, replaced by relief and a fierce protectiveness. He gently cups your face, promising that you’ll never be put in harm’s way again.

- Erik doesn’t let you out of his sight afterward. Back at his base, he’s uncharacteristically attentive, bringing you blankets and encouraging you to rest. He’s not one for excessive words, but his actions speak volumes, and you feel his care in the way he tends to you, his usually steely demeanor softened.

- As the days go by, Erik’s protective nature only grows stronger. He becomes even more vigilant, determined to prevent anything like this from happening again. He checks in with you frequently, offering you quiet moments together where he lets his guard down, allowing you to see the softer side he shows to few.

- This ordeal brings Erik closer to you than ever before. He openly admits his love for you, something he doesn’t take lightly. When he holds you, there’s a sense of finality, as though he’s decided that you’re his, and he’ll do anything to protect you. There’s a renewed tenderness in his gaze, and his touch lingers a little longer, a reminder of just how much you mean to him.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- When Jean learns that you’ve been kidnapped, she’s shaken to her core. Despite her powers, she feels helpless, unable to sense you through the mental blocks the anti-mutant group has put up. Her fear and frustration build, and she can’t help but blame herself, wondering if she could’ve somehow prevented this.

- From the moment she hears of your capture, Jean is relentless in her efforts to find you. She spends hours meditating, trying to extend her telepathic reach, even risking pushing herself to her limits. Her determination is unwavering; you’re her world, and she’s not going to let anyone take you from her.

- When Jean finally breaks through the barriers shielding you, she immediately teleports to the location with the team, her powers radiating a barely contained fury. She moves through the building with a fierce grace, using her telekinesis to shield and protect while dismantling any threat in her way.

- The moment she reaches you, she rushes to your side, a look of pure relief on her face. She cups your cheeks, her hands trembling slightly as she checks you over, her eyes brimming with tears. In that instant, Jean’s fierce façade slips, replaced by an overwhelming tenderness as she pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering how grateful she is to have you back.

- Back at the mansion, Jean takes care of you with a level of attentiveness that leaves no room for protest. She insists on making sure you’re comfortable, her gentle voice and calming presence reassuring you that you’re safe now. She’s almost overly protective, always close by, as if afraid you might disappear again.

- Jean opens up to you about her fears, admitting how deeply the experience affected her. She confesses that she’d been terrified of losing you, and her vulnerability brings the two of you closer than ever. She holds your hand often, her telepathic touch conveying the depths of her love for you, making sure you feel her presence even when words aren’t enough.

- In the days that follow, Jean’s love for you becomes even more evident. She’s more affectionate, often resting her head on your shoulder or pulling you close in quiet moments. Her telepathy allows her to sense even the smallest flicker of discomfort or fear, and she’s there to soothe you instantly, determined to protect you and keep you safe, no matter what.

Wade Wilson aka. Deadpool

- When Wade finds out you’ve been kidnapped by an anti-mutant organization, his usual joking manner disappears in an instant. A new side of Wade emerges—cold, calculating, and singularly focused. He’s furious at the idea of anyone hurting you, and his rage is far more intense than even he expected.

- Wade wastes no time in tracking down every possible lead. He calls in favors, shakes down every contact he has, and leaves no stone unturned. His sarcastic quips turn into harsh threats, and he’s fully prepared to leave a trail of destruction to get to you. Even his friends are wary of him in this state, but Wade doesn’t care. All he cares about is bringing you back safely.

- When he finally finds the facility where you’re held, Wade becomes unstoppable. Guns, swords, explosives—he uses everything he’s got, tearing through the compound with deadly efficiency. His mind is filled with thoughts of you, his adrenaline heightened by worry and anger. This time, he’s not holding back.

- The moment Wade reaches you, his facade cracks. He rushes to your side, cradling you in his arms, his heart racing as he checks you over for injuries. You can tell he’s trying to joke to ease the tension, but his voice shakes slightly. He gently brushes a strand of hair from your face, muttering something about how you “better not leave him again” because he’d miss you too much.

- Back at home, Wade becomes surprisingly tender, even clingy. He makes it his mission to cheer you up and get you to laugh, pulling out every ridiculous antic he can think of. He’ll make you pancakes with your initials in chocolate chips, bring you random stuffed animals, and tell you exaggerated stories just to see you smile.

- Wade is incredibly attentive and protective now, always checking in on you and staying close by. He even starts sleeping next to you more often, “just in case,” though he tries to play it off with his usual sarcasm. You know he’s shaken up by the ordeal, and you catch him watching you with a rare, serious intensity when he thinks you’re not looking.

- The experience strengthens Wade’s love for you, and he becomes more open about his feelings. He might joke and tease, but his words carry a deeper meaning now. He’ll hold your hand, bring you flowers with a smirk, and even tell you how much you mean to him in quiet moments, all while hoping you’ll never have to go through something like that again.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- When Rogue learns that you, her non-mutant partner, have been captured by an anti-mutant organization, her heart drops. The normally confident, spirited Rogue is shaken, feeling an overwhelming sense of fear and helplessness. She’s ready to fight, but there’s a part of her that’s terrified at the thought of losing you.

- Rogue wastes no time rallying the team. She pushes herself to her limits, determined to rescue you no matter what it takes. Her usually warm smile disappears, replaced by a fierce determination. Every punch, every fight is fueled by her love for you and her desire to bring you home.

- The moment Rogue finds you, she rushes to your side, her gloved hands reaching out gently. She desperately wants to hold you but hesitates, afraid of hurting you with her powers. Instead, she brushes her fingers lightly against yours, whispering that she’s there for you, relief flooding her voice.

- Once you’re safe back home, Rogue becomes incredibly caring and protective. She’s constantly checking in, making sure you have everything you need. She hates the thought of you ever feeling vulnerable again and becomes fiercely protective, standing by your side whenever she can.

- She can’t help but feel guilty, wondering if your association with her put you in harm’s way. You have to remind her that none of this was her fault, reassuring her with soft words and gentle touches. She’ll rest her head on your shoulder, finding comfort in your presence as you both begin to heal.

- Rogue is extra affectionate now, even though she has to be careful about touching you. She finds little ways to show her love, like slipping a note into your pocket, baking your favorite treats, or leaving small gifts for you to find. Every gesture is her way of reminding you how much she cares, even if she can’t express it physically as much as she’d like.

- The experience deepens Rogue’s love and appreciation for you, and she opens up in a way she hasn’t before. She’ll share stories, her fears, and her dreams, letting you into her heart like never before. You can see the warmth in her eyes whenever she looks at you, her love for you more visible and cherished than ever.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- When Wanda finds out you’ve been taken by an anti-mutant organization, her initial shock quickly turns to fury. She’s not just upset—she’s ready to unleash every ounce of her power to find you. The fear of losing you makes her powers flare, and she’s determined to get you back, no matter the cost.

- Wanda wastes no time, delving into every magical and practical means she can to locate you. She consults with anyone who might have information, even bending reality itself to catch a glimpse of where you are. Her determination is fierce, and she’s willing to go to any length to save you.

- When Wanda finally locates you, her heart races with relief and worry. She teleports into the facility, her powers swirling around her as she dispatches guards with ease. She’s entirely focused on you, a wave of protective magic enveloping you the second she finds you. She pulls you close, whispering words of comfort, her voice gentle but filled with emotion.

- Back home, Wanda is incredibly attentive, constantly watching over you to make sure you’re safe. She’s softer, quieter, and her worry is clear in the way she keeps checking in. She brews you herbal teas, makes sure you’re comfortable, and fills the space with calming spells to help ease any lingering anxiety.

- Wanda can’t help but feel a pang of guilt, wondering if her powers or status as an Avenger put you at risk. She opens up to you about these feelings, letting you know how deeply she cares and how much she blames herself. You reassure her, letting her know that none of this was her fault and that you feel safe with her.

- She becomes more open about her feelings, often sharing her thoughts, fears, and dreams with you in a way she hasn’t before. Wanda shows her love through little gestures—leaving enchanted flowers by your bedside, lighting up rooms with soft, warm lights, and casting protective wards around you. Her presence becomes a comforting constant, reminding you of how much you mean to her.

- The experience brings you closer, and Wanda becomes even more affectionate, lingering in hugs and holding your hand whenever she can. Her love for you shines brightly, her protective side now stronger than ever. She cherishes every moment with you, thankful that she still has you by her side and determined to protect you at all costs.

[dovesdreaming]

At his worst

Summary: Reader stays by Logan during his worst and is unable to be pushed away by him

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: negative self talk

-

The night was cold, unusually quiet for the dingy apartment Wolverine had holed himself up in. After all these years, Logan was used to the silence, comfortable with it even. But something was different tonight. His mind, normally sharp, was dulled by memories that felt like jagged knives cutting through his thoughts. Jean. Rogue. Charles. All the people he had failed. All the people he had lost. The city buzzed below, lights flickering against the darkness, but Logan didn’t care. He slumped against the couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of whiskey, his usual attempt to drown out the pain. But even alcohol couldn’t numb the guilt that weighed on him. He was a weapon designed to hurt, to destroy, and now it seemed like everyone close to him suffered the same fate. A quiet knock broke through the silence, so soft it might’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else, but not him. Logan’s senses were always on high alert. He sighed, part of him wanting to ignore it. He didn’t want company tonight, didn’t deserve it.

Another knock, a little louder this time. Persistent. “Logan?" A familiar voice called softly from the other side. Your voice. His chest tightened. You were the only person in his life now who didn’t seem to fear him. The only person who could look past the claws, the rage, the blood. Why? He could never figure it out. He didn’t deserve you. Heaving himself up, Logan tossed the whiskey bottle aside and trudged to the door. He didn’t bother with a shirt, his muscles tense beneath the scars that marked his body, a roadmap of violence. Opening the door, he looked down at you. You stood there, bundled in a jacket, worry etched on your face. “Hey” you said gently, eyes scanning his face like you could read everything going on inside. “Shouldn’t be here” Logan growled, his voice rough, hoarse. “Ain’t a good time”. You didn’t move. Instead, you tilted your head, eyes soft but unwavering. “When is a good time with you, Logan?”. That made him pause, and for a moment, he almost smirked. Almost. But he was too tired for that tonight. Instead, he stepped back, silently allowing you in.

You didn’t hesitate, walking past him and into the small apartment, your eyes trailing over the chaos. Half-eaten meals, broken furniture, and the unmistakable stench of whiskey lingering in the air. You turned to face him, crossing your arms. “You’ve been drinking”. Logan let out a low grunt, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. “What else is new?”. “You know, you don’t have to push me away every time things get bad” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not alone, Logan”. A sharp laugh escaped him. “Ain’t that simple. People around me... they don’t stay for long. They get hurt. Or worse”.

You took a step closer, closing the space between you. “I’m not them. I’m not going anywhere”. Logan’s jaw tightened, the weight of your words pressing on him. He wanted to believe you, but he knew better. He’d seen it too many times, the look in people’s eyes when they realized just how dangerous he was. How broken. “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he said, the edge in his voice returning. “I’ve done things... terrible things. You don’t wanna see me at my worst”. But you didn’t flinch. You never did. Reaching out, you touched his arm, and for a second, Logan almost pulled away, afraid of your kindness, of the warmth in your touch. But he didn’t. “I’ve seen enough, Logan. I’ve seen you fight, seen the pain you carry. And guess what? I’m still here” you said, your voice unwavering. “Because I care. Because I know that, no matter how much you try to push people away, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be understood”.

He shook his head, fists clenching at his sides. “I ain’t someone you can fix. I’m not someone who’s ever gonna be... whole”. You stepped even closer, eyes locking with his. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m here to stay. I’ll take the good, the bad, and everything in between. Even when you’re at your worst”. Logan’s throat tightened, emotions bubbling up that he hadn’t let surface in years. He hated how vulnerable he felt right now, how exposed. But at the same time, there was a small part of him that wanted to believe you. That wanted to trust that you wouldn’t leave like the others.

“Why?” The word slipped out, raw and filled with the pain he had been holding back for so long. “Why would you stay?”. You smiled softly, your hand sliding down to take his, your fingers warm against his cold skin. “Because I see you, Logan. The real you. Not the weapon. Not the Wolverine. Just... you”. For the first time in what felt like forever, Logan didn’t know what to say, he had no comeback. His heart pounded in his chest, his walls crumbling down around him as he looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but honesty. No fear. No judgment. Just... acceptance. A shaky breath escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You didn’t resist, wrapping your arms around him, your head resting against his chest as you stood there in the middle of the mess, in the middle of his chaos.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt something other than anger, other than pain. It was small, fragile even, but it was there. A flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone. Maybe, with you by his side, he didn’t have to be afraid of his worst anymore. And for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to believe that.

-

Thank you for reading!

[uglypastels]

Logan idea- reader has very similar traumas I.e trained as a weapon, memories wiped, has bad nightmares, slower aging, modified healing.

They find healing with the X-men and get close with Logan because of their similarities the reader is more sunshine to Logan’s I don’t know if pessimism is the right word. They go on a mission, goes missing for a period, and when they show back up they’ve been brain washed and are fighting the X-men but Logan recognizes them instantly. And does the whole this isn’t you sweetheart while taking a beating cause they can both kick ass and that’s one of the things Logan loves about them. He gets the mask off of them cause he realizes that’s part of the issue for them not recognizing everyone and then it’s hurt/comfort them feeling horrible for getting caught and Logan feeling horrible for letting them get caught. And even though they hadn’t been together before just very close friends/testing the waters this brings them together cause they realize they want to be with each other after some healing and Logan be soft with the reader while they heal from the brainwashing fiasco.

I dunno I love the idea of Logan feeling horrible about not being able to rescue the reader and then recognizing them fighting his allies and helps bring them back from the void. I’m a sucker for two people relating to eachother having a friendship that a hard time brings out their true feelings with lots of fluff and healing cause Logan understands that.

this made me think of some of my favourite wolverine scenes from different media so it's all inspired by that i guess. hope you like it :3

warnings: angst. mind control. reader presumed dead. swearing. violence. hospital-setting. guilt.

Masterlist ~ X-Men Requests are Open

‘What the hell are you doing? We have to go back!’ Logan started yelling as soon as he realised you hadn’t made it back to the jet. 

‘It’s too late,’ Scott shouted back at him from the pilot seat. ‘We won’t make it.’ 

‘She won’t make it,’ Logan retorted, already lunging at the cockpit, claws itching to come out. And they would have if it wasn’t for the cold hand touching his skin. He looked up to meet Rogue’s eyes. They were filled with sadness–pity– as she held his hand. He tried to pull out of her hold, but the longer it went on, the more frail he felt. Everything around him began to spin, his vision blurred until it all turned black, and his head hit the steel flooring of the plane.

⮿

Rogue had held on for too long. That much she had realised as soon as Logan had passed out.

It took a whole day for him to come by, but not even her powerful narcosis had suppressed his rage. As soon as Logan had woken up and his senses had felt Scott’s presence, he was on his feet, grabbing the team leader by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against 

‘You proud of yourself, punk?’ he spat in Scott’s face. ‘Got your sorry ass out all safe and sound, huh?’

‘There was no other way. We would have all died if we had stayed, Logan,’ Storm clawed at his shoulders to pull him back, but none of her methods sufficed. ‘This was the only way.’

‘No the fuck, it wasn’t!’ He saw red with anger. ‘We could have saved her.’ He had pulled out of saying that one word at the last minute. I could have saved her. That was the only thing on his mind for weeks. How you still would have been there if it wasn’t for him. 

The plan had been simple; that much had been clear in your face as you suggested it the last time he saw you. But he never should have gone along with it. He never should have let you go on your own. If he had just stayed— ran after you— maybe…

A pitiful portion of him still kept up hope. That one day, the heavy doors to the mansion would open, and you would stand in the middle. Perhaps a bit bruised up and tired, but all there. And he would pull you into his arms like he had wanted to all those times before.

But you never did show up. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and there had been no news, no sightings. Even the Professor had stopped seeking Cerebro’s help as nothing turned up anyway, no matter how hard he looked.

⮿

His heart was in his chest as he raced through the dark corridors of the bunker complex. Logan looked around him for the way out with the least henchmen as chances of there being none were slim. He had already left a trail of bodies behind him and was ready for the next wave of men to beat into a pulp.

He turned the corner, but what he saw was the last thing he had expected.

For a second, he thought he was dreaming; perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by some chemicals they pumped into the air to get to him. It wasn’t possible. His mouth had already fallen open, ready to call out your name, but as you got into a stance of attack, eyes blank except for a fury deep inside them, Logan realised it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a bloody terror. 

It was the hardest fight he had ever been in, trying to block all of your attacks while pulling himself back. He couldn’t het himself to hurt you. All he found himself doing was calling your name, but it was useless. It was you, but it wasn’t. Nothing he said seemed to matter, seemed to take any effect on you. You lunged at him, punching and kicking. 

It was futile to try and argue with you, and so, against every muscle and nerve in his body screaming against it, Logan started to place his movements harder, fighting against you until you went limp in his arms. He cursed himself out as he looked down at your unconscious body, pushing some of your loose hair out of your face. But as he looked at you, he also saw that it really was you still in there. And so he didn’t waste a second thinking about it as he picked you up in his arms and ran as fast as his body could take him. Out of the tortuous underground maze and back to that godforsaken jet that had been the scene of the dreams that had plagued his mind for the past months.

⮿

Everyone had practically stopped in their tracks at the sight of you in Logan’s arms. He stumbled into the jet, nearly falling over, having had, as predicted, to deal with a number more nameless jackasses, but with you in his arms, it made beating them up a bit more challenging.

‘What—’ Storm’s eyes were nearly as pale of shock as they would have been of her powers. 

‘She’s been brainwashed,’ Logan explained before anything else, ‘or controlled. I don’t know, but he’s hostile. We need to keep her down.’ He laid you down on the ground, sitting right beside you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a deep heave, and only then he noticed the looks of everyone around him. ‘What?’

No one said a thing, but he knew what they were all thinking. For he was thinking it, too. Was it safe to bring you back home? Could whatever they had done to you be reversed, or was he just putting everyone at the school in danger by taking you back? 

‘Is everyone back?’ He just said after no one had dared to say another word.

⮿

Logan didn’t know what had possessed him. Why he had suddenly grown so protective over you, but he could not stand the idea of you being alone in the hospital wing. It took nearly half a week just for Jean and the Professor to understand what had happened to you, and the treatment itself took far longer than Logan would have liked. 

He didn’t know why he came to visit you every night, far outside the regular visiting hours, past when anyone would be awake to see him sneak in and sit by your side, holding your hand, hoping you could feel and hear him as the apologies spilt out of him.

‘I’m so sorry, bub.’ He kissed your knuckles. ‘I should have gone back for you. I should have–’ He stilled as you stirred in your bed. 

‘Logan?’ You croaked out, throat dry and hoarse. In slight shock, Logan said nothing. You blinked and tried to find him in the darkness of the room. ‘Logan? Is that you?’

‘Yeah, it’s me.’ He chuckled softly to himself, squeezing your hand.

‘What happened?’ You tried to sit up, orientating yourself to where exactly it was that you were, but he quickly pushed at your shoulder to stay put. 

‘It’s a long story, kid.’ Never before was Logan happy to be sitting in the dark as the tears he had subdued for months finally fell down his cheeks in extreme relief. ‘You uh– you’d been gone for a while.’ 

‘I was?’ you tried to remember, ‘I can’t recall anything. It’s all—’

‘I know.’ He kept your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. Logan knew to call for someone as soon as he saw you stir awake, but he needed this moment alone with you. Make sure you are doing alright himself. Besides, the professor was probably already on his way. 

‘It’s okay. You’re alright now.’ He continued, happy you had finally come back home.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[kisses-for-you]

Preference: They accidentally hurt you

Titans Characters X Fem!Reader

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Gar Logan, Conner Kent, Kory Anders, Donna Troy & Hank Hall.

Dick Grayson:

You and Dick had gotten into an argument and it was getting heated. He was risking the team's life by making stupid and reckless decisions, or at least that's what they were in your opinion.

Without thinking, you yell, "You don't have to risk everyone's lives just because Jason died and you think it's your fault!"

SLAP!

Dick's hand makes contact with your face as he slaps you in a fit of rage. The room seems to freeze as Dick's eyes widen with horror at the realisation of what he's just done. Your hand instinctively reaches to your cheek, the hurt in your eyes making your boyfriend feel even more guilty.

Dick immediately recoils, his expression shifting from anger to deep regret. "Fuck. Y/N, I... I didn't mean to," he stammers, his voice filled with remorse. He takes a step back, grappling with the weight of his actions. His eyes search yours, pleading for forgiveness, but the pain in your gaze is palpable.

Dick takes a hesitant step forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry," he murmurs, regret etched across his face. He reaches out to cup your cheek, however, fear grips you, and you instinctively shrink back, avoiding his touch.

"I need some space," you finally manage to say, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and sadness. He nods solemnly, understanding he fucked up badly.

-

Jason Todd:

You and Jason were training and since you were still fairly new to the team, you thought it'd be nice to train with Jason as you're the closest with him.

You're meant to block his hits but as the bo staff heads your way, you hesitate for some reason and react too late, resulting in Jason accidentally hurting you as the staff strikes you. It's just a small mistake and it doesn't hurt too badly but he immediately rushes to your side.

"Shit. Babe, are you okay?" His concerned expression mirrors his regret. You give him a small, reassuring smile, saying, "Yeah, I'm fine. It's probably just a small bruise anyway. Let's just get back to training."

He shakes his head, still looking guilty even though it wasn't his fault. "No, let's just finish here. You shouldn't keep training if you're hurt. We can always train tomorrow," Jason insists, genuine concern in his eyes. You know there's no point in arguing with him, so you just sigh and nod.

-

Gar Logan:

You and Gar were alone in the Titans Tower, where Gar was struggling to stay in his human form. He was incredibly upset (you didn't know why) and his intense emotions were causing him to shapeshift into an animal, which he was trying to prevent.

"Y/N.. You need to.. go," he whispers, his voice strained as he tries to fight against the transformation. Concern etched across your face, you refuse to leave his side. You assure him, "Gar, I'm not leaving you alone like this."

You try to reach out to touch his trembling hand, but before you can make contact, Gar involuntarily shifts into a green tiger. In his tiger form, Gar loses control and accidentally swipes at you with his claws. The scratch isn't too deep, but it's enough to draw blood and sting, causing you to step back in shock. Gar, now more distressed, manages to regain control, turning back into his human form as he apologizes frantically.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm so sorry. I- I lost control. I didn't mean to hurt you," he stammered, rushing to your side, panic etched across his face.

You assess the scratch on your arm, trying to downplay the pain, not wanting to make him feel worse. "Gar, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it doesn't even hurt that bad."

Gar, tormented by guilt, searches for a first aid kit in the Tower. As he tends to your wound, you insist that it wasn't his fault, attempting to calm him in his distressed state. While Gar is patching up your wound, you notice a mixture of guilt and fear in his eyes. You gently take his hand and reassure him, "Gar, accidents happen. Don't blame yourself." Despite your comforting words, Gar remains visibly distraught, haunted by the fear of potentially causing you harm again.

-

Conner Kent:

Conner had just returned from a mission with the Titans. He looked exhausted but relieved as he walked through the door. You greeted him with a warm smile, knowing how tiring his superhero responsibilities could be.

As Conner hugged you, his thoughts wandered to what happened during the mission. He started to get lost in his thoughts, and his strength momentarily slipped out of his control. He squeezed you too tightly, causing you to wince as the force of the hug became too much. You were left in a little pain, and probably with a bruise. Conner looked concerned as you pulled away, realising what he had just done.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I don't know what happened. I started thinking about the mission and then I just..." Conner rambled, trying to explain and apologize to you. But you interrupted him and said, "Conner, it's okay. I know you didn't mean to. Don't worry about it." No matter how much you try to reassure Conner, however, he still feels guilty and blames himself for hurting you, even if it was accidental.

For the next couple of weeks, he's extra careful around you and way more gentle. He also tries to find ways to make it up to you; he doesn't need to though because you know he didn't mean to do what he did.

-

Hank Hall:

You and Hank had been watching a football match on TV together, enjoying the rare day off. As Hank headed to the kitchen to grab you both a drink and some snacks, an idea sparked in your mind. You decided you were going to scare him; it was a fairly innocent idea.

Within a couple of seconds, you start to tiptoe after him, planning to playfully surprise him. You just wanted to see his reaction so you could make fun of him if he screamed like a girl (you never know, he might). As you reach the kitchen door, you take a deep breath, preparing to unleash your surprise.

However, as you sneak up behind him and scream, Hank's reflexes kick in. In an instant, he spins around, his combat instincts taking over. Before either of you can even realise what's happening, his hand shoots out and strikes you right in the face. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel the sudden impact.

Time seems to freeze for a moment as you both register what just happened. Hank's eyes widen in shock and horror as he sees you wince from the unintentional blow. Concern fills Hank's eyes as he drops whatever he is holding in his hands, rushing to your side. "Oh fuck, babe, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" he blurts out, panic evident in his voice.

You hold your nose, pretty sure you have a nosebleed. "I'm... okay." As the initial shock wears off, you can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "At least now we know that your instincts are top-notch," you quip, trying to lighten the mood despite the pain you're feeling. You move your hand away from your face, revealing a trickle of blood from your nose. Hank winces, guilt written all over his face.

He quickly grabs a tissue from the nearby counter, handing it to you with a mix of concern and remorse in his eyes. "I didn't mean to... I just thought..." Hank stammers, struggling to find the right words to express his regret. You take the tissue and give him a reassuring smile, realizing it was just an unfortunate accident.

"It's okay, Hank. It was my idea to scare you like that so if anything, it's my fault," you say, dabbing at your nose. Despite the pain, you can't help but appreciate the genuine worry in his eyes.

-

Kory Anders:

You and the Titans were preparing for another battle against an intimidating villain who was threatening the city of San Francisco. You were standing by Kory's side, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Tonight, the stakes were higher than ever before. The villain, known as Mother Mayhem, was ready to unleash chaos upon the city. Kory's eyes were glowing with determination as she walked towards the impending threat. You followed closely, aware of the danger that awaited you.

As the confrontation continues, Mother Mayhem launches a devastating attack that catches both you and Kory off guard. In a moment of panic, Kory's powers surge uncontrollably, and a burst of energy erupts from her, unintentionally striking you. The impact sends you flying to the ground and pain radiates through your body.

Kory's eyes widen in horror as she realises what just happened. She rushes to your side, leaving the rest of the Titans to deal with the threat. Her concern is evident in every step. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, kneeling beside you. "I didn't mean to hurt you." Despite the pain, you manage a weak smile, reaching out to reassure her. "It's okay, Kory. Accidents happen. Besides, we have a more important matter at hand," you say, referring to the villain you're currently fighting.

"I promise, I'll control my powers better next time," she vows, gently cradling you in her arms. She then stops to think, unsure of whether you should get back to the fight in your condition. "Are you sure you want to fight? I don't think that's the best idea for you right now, Y/N."

You nod, determination flickering in your eyes despite the pain. "I'll be fine, Kory. Just a little shaken, but I can still help. We need to stop her before things get worse." Reluctantly, Kory lets you go, her worry etched across her face. She stands up, taking a moment to make sure you're stable before rejoining the battle. 

-

Donna Troy:

You and Donna were strolling through through the dimly lit alleyways of the city. As you turned a corner, a group of menacing thugs emerged from the shadows, surrounding you both. Donna's grip on your hand tightened instinctively as she stepped forward, ready to defend you from the impending threat.

Donna's eyes narrow, her instincts kicking in. She swiftly reaches for her lasso, the golden glow illuminating the dark alley. But you find yourself in the line of fire without even noticing. A sudden movement from one of the thugs causes you to stumble, and in an attempt to protect you, Donna swings her lasso with lightning speed. However, the unexpected jolt of the situation results in her accidentally striking you instead of the intended target.

Time seems to slow as the golden rope wraps around you, the energy coursing through your body. A surge of pain shoots through your veins, and you gasp as the unexpected impact takes you by surprise. Donna's eyes widen in horror as she realises her mistake, immediately releasing the lasso. The thugs seem to take this as a chance to run and escape. Stunned and in pain, you stagger backwards, clutching the area where the lasso struck you. Donna rushes to your side, her concern evident in her eyes. "Fuck. Y/N, I'm so sorry," she murmurs, her voice filled with regret.

As Donna checks on you, you assure her that you're okay, though the pain still lingers. The two of you decide to go back to her apartment to assess the situation and tend to your injuries. Donna's guilt is palpable, but you understand it was an accident in the heat of the moment. Together, you make your way back, Donna keeping a protective arm around you.

-

[2blockseast]

nights like this (logan howlett x gn reader)

summary: plagued by memories of his ex-lover, logan seeks out their counterpart for comfort. author's note: hey y'all, i hope you're all doing well! i've been simmering on this one for awhile but uni has gotten in the way so it took some time to finish. i'm sorry if the ending feels abrupt... i again blame uni for stealing mental energy from me, lol. anyways, i hope you enjoy! please feel free to send requests. i appreciate you all, stay safe! writing is purposefully in all lowercase; mildly proofread. tags: worst!logan, readers gender not mentioned, human reader (both universes), angst, comfort, happy ending word count: 2,275

nights like this

it was another sleepless night for logan. he was laying on the couch in wade’s apartment, staring at the ceiling and begrudgingly focusing on the deep ache in his chest. he felt weighted down both emotionally and physically, and despite his attempts to think of something positive, his mind kept drawing him back into the depths of his own despair. 

he was replaying every horrible thing that he had ever done, the memory of his murderous rampage at the forefront. his memories were horrifyingly vivid, with his the memory of the slaughter being so strong he swore he could smell blood. he could almost feel the slick of the blood against his hands, and he remembered how he had felt the fire within him rage on at the feeling. the ache in his chest only intensified at these memories, and logan began to feel his eyes welling with tears as his mind became further crowded with guilt.

he found himself thinking of you. it was nights like this when he needed your love most. the only mildly positive thing about his ability to recall memories so vividly was that he could remember every little thing about you. he thought about how your skin had felt, how you had smelled, the perfect curve of your jaw, your unwavering kindness, and your beautiful eyes that he had loved to lose himself in. he could feel his chest beginning to ache so much it hurt, but he continued to chase his memory of you despite the discomfort. 

logan had always loved you. in his universe, you had been his sun, moon, and stars. not a moment went by that he didn’t think of you. he would follow you around like a lost puppy, doing anything he possibly could to make you feel loved and appreciated. despite his longstanding rough demeanor, you had found a way to soften him. everyone in the x-mansion loved you in your own right, but they loved your positive impact on logan more. you knew how to read his soul and you encouraged him to be kinder to himself, which, in turn, made him kinder to everyone else. you made him a better man. 

but as much as he loved you, and no matter how much he seemed to improve, he had always loved one thing more: hating himself.

when the x-men had been slaughtered, logan’s anger had surfaced in a way nobody had ever thought possible. he didn’t know what to do with all his misery, so he turned it into rage. the nation had watched his murderous rampage through their televisions, and the worldwide fear of mutants only intensified. if people didn’t feel safe before, they certainly didn’t now. 

you had tried to call him a million times when you saw the news, pleading with him to come to your apartment, begging him to come see you, assuring you everything would be okay if he came home. you knew that the brutality of the x-men’s murders had shaken him to his core and that this anger– this rage– was nothing more than a secondary emotion. you promised him that you would take care of him, that you could get through this pain together– he just had to come home to you. 

logan had seen your myriad of calls. he had read your hundreds of frantic– then loving– then desperate– then comforting– then begging texts. he had thought about calling you, but he knew he would never be able to bring himself to do it. he had sat in the woods, covered in blood, longing to crawl into your bed. he felt jagged, and he ached for your softness. but your opposing personalities were what pained him so deeply. he had committed a horrible crime, and no matter how much he wanted to believe that you meant it when you said you could make everything okay, he knew that you couldn’t. he would have to accept that he had ruined everything. 

in his heart, logan knew that you could ease some of his pain. he knew that seeing you, even for a moment, would bring him some relief. he knew you couldn’t make everything okay, but you would at least bring him some semblance of joy in the wake of his grief. but he also knew that he didn’t deserve it. logan had never thought himself deserving of you in the first place, but now he knew that he definitely wasn’t. not only did he not deserve you, but you didn’t deserve him. you didn’t deserve to be responsible for such a monster of a man.

he had messaged you: “i’m sorry, i can’t do this. i hope things work out for you. i’m sorry” before blocking your number. 

even now, all these years later, after saving the multiverse and finding himself again, he longed for you. he wished he could go back to your apartment and apologize a hundred times over. he would get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. he would smile like a schoolboy as he told you about all the great things he had done, how he had redeemed himself. he imagined you holding his face in your hands, gently stroking his stubble as you comforted him. he imagined you telling him that everything was okay, that you had waited for him all these years, that you still had the same books on your shelves, that your bedroom was still decorated the same and you still wore the same fragrance. 

logan was aching for your touch more than he ever had. he considered going to wade for comfort, which he quickly realized was a horrible idea. the only thing that could make him feel better was you. 

logan didn’t know how he felt about the idea that came to him then. 

he thought about wade’s version of you and how you had met when they had just returned from their multiverse-saving adventure. he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you again, as beautiful as ever. logan had been pining over you since then, but part of him felt guilty for it. he didn’t know if you had ever known earth-10005’s version of logan– the “best” logan, as some might say– but he guessed that you didn’t considering how happy you seemed. you had always been kind to logan, but he couldn’t help but feel that you were slightly disappointed that the version of the wolverine that wade brought back home wasn’t as amazing as the anchor being that had died. 

after your first few interactions, you seemed to start avoiding him. he hoped he hadn’t done something to upset you or drive you away, but wade had told him that you had always been a bit reserved, especially around new people. “just like i remember”, he found himself thinking. his version of you had been reserved before you two had started dating, and he hoped that maybe the same thing was happening now.

he knew that he wasn’t this world’s logan, and you weren’t his world’s you, but he wanted to wrap himself in your arms nonetheless. he considered going to your apartment just to see you, even if just for a second. he didn’t know if it would make him feel better or worse and he felt bad for even thinking about burdening this untainted version of you with his issues, but he couldn’t help himself. he groggily got up from the couch, throwing on sweatpants and a shirt before heading to see you.

—

unsurprisingly, you were surprised to see logan in your doorway so late at night. 

“hey, logan,” you said groggily, a bit flustered. “are you okay?”

he looked at your face in the dim light of your apartment, taking it all in.

“yeah, yeah. i’m good,” he stopped, feeling himself hesitate. he wondered if this was a total douchebag move, waking you up in the middle of the night for his own comfort. deciding he had nothing to lose but sleep, he asked, “can i come inside?”.

you stepped aside, still half-asleep. he came in, looking around as he took his shoes off. his heart warmed at the fact that everything was more-or-less decorated the same. you had the same books, the same houseplants, the same coffee table. he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you could also have the same feelings for him, considering how similar you were to the you that he had fucked up. 

“is something wrong?” you asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“no, nothing's wrong,” he said. “i just needed to… i needed someone”.

flattered that logan had come to you for comfort, you said: “oh, well i hope i can be that someone for you”.

“you always were” he thinks to himself.

“but,” you start, looking a bit dejected. “i have to work tomorrow and i really need to sleep”.

“oh,” logan says, feeling bad that he’s stealing sleep from you. “i don’t need anything special, just being here helps”.

“oh, that makes me happy!” you reply. “how about we just rest together?”

his heart warmed at the thought. seeing the faint blush on his cheeks and feeling his excitement, you giggle and start walking to your bedroom. logan follows, feeling his heart begin to glow at the chance to be close to you. 

throwing back the covers, you settle into your bed. logan looked around your room, decorated just how he remembered. your bed was still snug in the corner of the room, the same desk by the window, the same faint smell of your favorite fragrance lingering in the air. logan felt like he was about to start crying at how happy it made him. he had been in your room a million times, and he could replay every memory you two had shared together here. even though logan had technically lived at the x-mansion, you had always referred to the apartment as as your guys’ home, as if you owned it together. logan had always loved that what was yours was also his. he noticed now that the only things missing from this room were his flannels you had “borrowed”, as well as the photos of the two of you posted on the walls. 

you yawned, patting the space beside you on the bed. 

“are you coming?” you asked.

logan looked at you, laying in your bed in your sleepwear, looking at him expectantly. he nodded, slipping into bed beside you.

you lifted your arm, inviting him to rest his head on your chest, and logan’s heart skipped a beat. you had always been kind to him, but you had never been affectionate like this. he wondered if you were being so inviting because you genuinely liked him or if you were just too tired to be closed off. either way, he nestled himself beside you, pulling up the covers.

you rested your hand on top of his head, slowly breathing in and out. he could hear your heartbeat, gentle and consistent. he closed his eyes, soaking up the purity of this moment.

“i know you need to sleep,” he said, breathing out. “but can i ask you a question?”

you giggled, chest rising. “sure, logan”

“did you ever know this world’s wolverine?”

you stopped for a moment, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. 

“no, i didn’t,” you replied. “it would have been cool, though. why do you ask?”

“just curious,” he said. he couldn’t tell if knowing that made him feel better or worse– at least you couldn’t compare him to the honorable anchor being that had passed.

“did you ever know your world’s me?” you giggled. logan could tell you meant it as a joke, you didn’t expect him to have ever known you. 

“funnily enough, i did” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut in anticipation. his heart rate increased and he hoped this wouldn’t ruin the moment– he didn’t want you thinking he was only there to pretend you were his version of you. he liked both versions of you, and he wasn’t in your bed to live in the world as he wanted it to be. he knew you were your own unique person, even if you were similar to the you he had loved.

“oh,” you said, surprised. monotone, you added: “that’s cool.” 

logan tensed again. he couldn’t tell if you had replied monotone because you were too tired to be expressive or if you were preparing yourself to kick him out.

“what was i like?” you asked, surprising him. your fingers began running through his hair and he leaned into the familiar sensation.

“you were awesome, just like you are now,” he breathed out. “you lived in this same apartment… at least when i knew you”

“why did you stop knowing me?”

logan thought for a second.

“i did some bad stuff… cut you off. i hadn’t seen you in, i don’t know, five years?”

“oh,” you said quietly. your breath hitched as you worked up the confidence to say: “i don’t know if this is weird, but… what were we?”

logan’s breath hitched. “lovers, i guess”

you hummed. “i bet we were nice”

logan let out a low, pained laugh. “we were really nice”

“y’know,” you started after a long silence, hesitating. “i think we could be nice now, too”

logan froze, surprised. “y'think?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i think that with time, we could be very, very nice… if you’re up to try”

“i would love to try,”  logan smiled. “i would try with you a million times”

you hummed, content with his answer. “i think i would like that”

logan relaxed, settling into your side. he breathed a sigh of relief, reveling in the warm feeling of your affection. he drifted to sleep, the memories that plagued him replaced with the new, softer memory of getting to love you once again.

[maybe-im-dark]

Explosive love

Based on this post

The mission had gone sideways. The ambush, the crossfire, and the mine —it was all a blur of chaos and violence. But the image burned into Logan’s mind was clear: Wade, grinning like the lunatic he was, stepping on that damn mine. The explosion had been deafening, shaking the ground beneath Logan’s feet and then there was nothing. Just blood and bits of Wade painting the air and the forest floor.

Logan stood frozen in place, his face splattered with Wade’s blood, some if it lingering on his lips, coppery and bitter. He didn’t wipe it away, didn’t move. He just stared at the scorched patch of earth where Wade had been.

"Fuck..." Logan whispered, his voice breaking as he realized there was no trace of his partner left.

Wade was gone. No wisecracks. No stupid jokes. No maniacal laughter. Just silence.

Logan forced himself to leave, dragging his feet back to their shared apartment. The air inside was too still, too quiet without Wade’s constant chatter. Al’s usual quips and sarcastic remarks were nowhere to be heard —she was out for groceries, oblivious to the horror Logan had just witnessed.

He couldn’t face her. Not yet. Not without knowing how to say the words "he's gone."

Logan stumbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He gripped the sink, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror. He had broken it when he had just moved in, in a fit of rage, after Wade wouldn’t stop pressuring him to tell about a nightmare he’d been having. His hazel eyes were bloodshot, his face streaked with blood. Wade’s blood. His hands shook as he splashed water on his face, trying to rinse it off, but it wouldn’t stop dripping. He couldn’t stop seeing it.

And then, for the first time in years, Logan let the tears fall. He sank to the floor, his head in his hands, shoulder shaking as sobs wracked his body. It wasn’t just grief; it was guilt. Guilt for not stopping Wade, for letting him step on that mine. For surviving, when Wade didn’t. Just like it always had been. Everything around him broke down and died, but he was left alive. With nothing but memories of screams and death. Maybe this was his curse. The curse running through his veins, passed onto him by his drunken demon of a father and his cheating whore of a mother. The curse that made him be this monster.

But as the tears fell, a wave of nausea hit him. Logan’s stomach churned violently and he gagged, doubling over on the bathroom floor.

"Goddamnit", he growled, clutching his abdomen as he retched.

But instead of bile, something solid hit the floor with a sickening thud. Logan stared, wide-eyed, at the object in front of him.

A finger.

"What the..."

Another wave hit him and this time, he coughed up an eye. A fucking eye. Its brown iris looked curiously up at him.

Logan froze, staring at the finger and the eye, the realization slowly dawning on him. "No way...you've gotta be kidding me."

He gagged once more, this time vomiting a handful of toes.

"Wade Wilson, you fucking bastard!" Logan muttered, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of him.

He couldn’t help it. This was the most ridiculous thing he ever experienced and that was saying something.

Piece by piece, Wade regenerated, spilling out of Logan in chunks that quickly began to reassemble themselves on the tiled floor. Logan watched in morbid fascination, as the fingers crawled towards a hand, the toes twitching as they found their rightful place on a forming foot.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of retching and coughing, Wade’s head emerged, still grinning despite the fact that his body was only halfway there.

"Hey, peanut", Wade said, his voice raspy bit undeniably cheerful. "Guess who’s back?"

Logan glared at him, wiping his mouth. "I should flush your ass down the goddamn toilet."

Wade laughed, his body slowly knitting itself back together. "You couldn’t live without me and you know it."

Logan shook his head, muttering under his breath. "I should’ve known you’d pull some shit like this."

Wade now fully formed and sitting cross-legged on the toilet seat, stretched dramatically. "What can i say? I'm hard to kill. Thanks for the lift, by the way. You make a surprisingly cozy womb."

"Get out of my sight, before i actually kill you!", Logan growled, though his lips were forming the tiniest hint of a smirk.

Wade grinned, leaning in close. "You wouldn’t dare. You love me."

Logan pulled him on his feet and pushed him toward the door, but his laughter betrayed him. "Yeah, yeah. Don't push your luck, bub."

As Wade sauntered out of the bathroom, Logan couldn’t help but shake his head. The bastard had cheated death yet again and somehow Logan loved him all the more for it.

[gunnrblze]

Hesh and Elias-a loving father-son duo-except what if Hesh was angry at his father for so so so many things instead.

Perhaps it’s a little selfish, he thinks, or perhaps it’s long overdue for Hesh to bring up his father’s parenting methods.

To say he cares about and loves Logan is an understatement, that’s not to be questioned, but why he was gifted the daunting task of looking after his little brother for the majority of his life, when he himself was trying to grow up makes him angry.

He has so much anger and he struggles to pinpoint its origin. Maybe he was born with his fists shaking and nostrils flared.

He snaps at Elias one day on base after the man gets stern with him. Maybe after Logan gets hurt on a mission or somethings fucked over their plans to find Rorke. Hesh seethes because he tried. He tried and he continues to try and help Logan whenever possible. They’re a pair, a duo, brothers.

But Hesh isn’t a god, as much as he sometimes wishes he could be. He can only do so much, he can only reach so far. Why does it never feel good enough? Why does he feel a gnawing sense of guilt when Logan gets hurt, as if the kid didn’t sign up for the job right alongside him? He might as well have hurt his brother himself with the way he feels to blame.

He accuses Elias, of favoritism. Of something just short of neglecting Hesh emotionally growing up. He remembers it all too well.

Logan cried, he was soothed. Logan got in trouble, he was given a talking to and nothing more. Logan was acting out after mom died and Elias had so much grace for him, but Hesh wasn’t allowed to be a brat when life got hard.

He had to be a good older brother, a good son who kept himself and his little duckling in line because Elias was gone far too much to do it himself.

Elias is a little startled. Not by his son’s irritation, the pain he could see in his eyes, no. He’d unfortunately had to see it before, had to try and sleep at night knowing he couldn’t take it all away from him. Did he make the right decision persuading his boys to join the army in the first place? The thought made him sick sometimes.

No, he’s startled by the accusations. That he favored Logan, that he ignored Hesh’s feelings after he got to a certain age. He couldn’t deny that he wasn’t present at home sometimes, but he wanted to find an excuse. Wanted to crawl out of the hole he’d dug his family into, whether he had much choice or not.

Like birds of a feather, Elias was getting irritated at his son now. Their mirroring emotions made Hesh do a double take, as if he saw his very future in front of him now. Clear as day.

Elias was defensive, like most in his position usually were. He couldn’t understand where it was coming from. Why Hesh seemed to be so upset all a sudden. As if overnight his eldest son decided to get mad. As if the last couple decades didn’t have any impact.

Hesh could feel the heat scorch his cheeks, teeth grinding and threatening to be crushed under the force of his clenched jaw. He’d always had to hold it together. He was tired of holding himself together. Tired of feeling like an observer in his own family rather than an active participant.

Exhausted, after having been molded into a soldier by the Lieutenant in front of him, long before he ever enlisted.

Elias wasn’t sure he’d ever seen David behave like this. Yelling until his voice went hoarse, spitting accusations and what he couldn’t believe were insults in his face. His son, unraveling before him.

He let it happen.

Elias Walker wasn’t a passive man but he stood there and let his son scream at him. Not like the petulant child he used to be, no. Like the man he is.

The room was silent after Hesh finished, save for his heavy breathing and whatever sound he was making whilst trying to hold back a sniffle. He wouldn’t dare let the tears in his eyes fall, afraid his dignity would dissolve with it.

Hesh’s head felt foggy. Clouded by rage, upset, and something that felt similar to grief. That feeling he could never identify, searing a hole through his heart and not bothering to patch itself back up.

He looked his father in the eyes. Really looked at the man in front of him. Confused by his silence. For once, the image was unrecognizable. It felt foreign, as if he were shielded behind a pane of glass.

Time felt frozen, until Logan swung the door open. He too, stilled. As if no one knew what to do, Logan could tell by the red of his brother’s cheek and the set of his father’s jaw, that there probably wasn’t anything to do.

Hesh stared down his little brother though, eyes practically begging him to say something in his defense. To open his fucking mouth for once and speak.

His father merely dismissing them both made his gut sink. Knowing all too well, that this hadn’t solved it. If anything, it’d only drive the little wedge further between them.

David swore he could feel it splintering his skin as he walked away, not bothering to even look at his younger brother at the moment.

Too afraid he’d start resenting him, too.

[jenniferlawrencelover]

I Bet On Losing Dogs (Poolverine)

Pairing: Wade Wilson/Logan Howlett/Worst! Wolverine

Rating: General Audience

Summary:

People always think Logan likes to fight. 

But that’s just not true

Word Count: ~1k

People always think Logan likes to fight. 

But that’s just not true.

He doesn’t enjoy it. Never has. Not the way they think. Logan knows what people see when they look at him. The Wolverine. A beast, an animal, a force of nature that exists solely to fight, to destroy, to tear through whatever gets in his way. And sometimes… sometimes, yeah, it feels good to let it out. When the rage inside him builds up so high he thinks he’ll drown in it, when his knuckles ache from clenching his fists so tight, when the world starts spinning too fast and all he can think about is letting those claws out, letting them slice through something just to remind himself he’s still in control—yeah, sometimes it feels necessary.

But enjoying it?

No. Never.

Logan has never liked hurting people. It’s just... it happens. And he doesn’t know why.

Sometimes, he loses his temper. The red haze comes over him, and before he knows it, someone’s on the floor, bleeding or worse, and his heart is hammering in his chest. His fists are throbbing. His head’s spinning, and there’s this sick feeling crawling up his throat, this knot of shame and regret twisting in his gut.

He wishes he could blame it all on the Wolverine—the beast that lurks inside him, the thing with claws and teeth that takes over when the world gets too loud, when the pain gets too real. He’s always been quick to say it’s not him, it’s the Wolverine. That’s the easy answer. The part of him that’s more animal than man, the part that acts on instinct, on rage, on the primal need to survive at any cost. But deep down, Logan knows the truth. He’s not just a mindless creature. He’s not some wild animal that’s out of control.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

Logan doesn’t know why he bites, why he lashes out, why everyone he cares about—everyone he loves—he ends up hurting. He’s tried to figure it out for years. It’s the same pattern, over and over. He lets someone in, lets them get too close, and then… he snaps. He gets scared, maybe, or angry, or maybe he’s just so tired of trying to hold it all together that he lets it all go. And they end up paying the price.

He can’t stand the way they look at him after. The confusion. The hurt. That moment when they realize that Logan—the person they trusted—is the same one who cut them down. He can’t explain it, can’t tell them why it happens. All he knows is that something inside him breaks, and before he knows it, he’s tearing through everything good in his life. Like he’s cursed.

He tries so damn hard not to. He tries to keep that part of himself buried, to keep the claws in check, to keep the rage bottled up. But no matter how hard he fights it, it always finds a way out.

Logan wants to believe it’s the animal in him, the Wolverine’s animalistic urges. He wants to tell himself that it’s something he can’t control, that it’s just a part of what he is. But he knows better. He’s not some mindless beast. He’s got enough years behind him to know the difference between a fight and a choice.

And that’s what scares him the most.

It’s not about fighting to survive anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. Most of the fights he gets into, the ones that matter, aren’t about life or death—they’re about something else. Something deep. He doesn’t know if it’s the anger, or the pain, or the guilt that he’s been carrying around for more years than he can count. He just knows that something inside him is broken, and no matter how much he fights, no matter how much he tries to stay away from the people he cares about, they always end up getting hurt.

He doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t know why the people he loves seem to be the ones who catch the worst of it. They come into his life, and they see something good in him, something worth saving. And for a while, maybe he believes them. Maybe he starts to think that they’re right, that he’s not just a weapon, not just a killer. Maybe he even starts to think that he could deserve something like peace, like happiness.

But it never lasts.

Because sooner or later, he bites. He always bites. And they always bleed.

That’s what keeps him up at night. Not the faces of the people he’s fought. Not the countless lives he’s taken in the heat of battle. Not the bodies he’s left behind, the scars he’s left on the world. No, it’s the faces of the ones he loved—the ones he tried so hard to protect, only to hurt them worse than anyone else could.

He doesn’t want to be like this. He’s spent his whole life trying not to be like this. But it doesn’t matter how hard he tries to outrun it, how much distance he puts between himself and the people who care about him—it always catches up to him.

Maybe it’s in his nature. Maybe it’s just who he is.

Logan doesn’t want to be violent. He doesn’t want to hurt people. He doesn’t know why he does it, why he loses his temper, why his fists always find their way to the things that matter most. All he knows is that there’s something inside him that’s angry, something that’s been angry for as long as he can remember. And no matter how hard he fights it, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s better than this, that he’s more than just claws and violence, it always finds a way to tear him apart.

And every time, it takes someone else down with him.

That’s the worst part.

Not the blood, not the rage, not the fighting. It’s the aftermath. It’s the quiet moments after the storm, when the dust has settled, and all that’s left is the wreckage of whatever he’s just destroyed. And there, in the middle of it all, is the person he loves—broken, bleeding, and looking at him like they don’t recognize him anymore.

Logan doesn’t know why he bites. He just knows that he does. And he hates himself for it.

He’d give anything to stop. To finally be the man they think he is, the one they believe in, the one they see when they look past the claws and the scars. But every time he tries, every time he lets himself believe that he’s more than just the Wolverine, that maybe he’s not doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again—he ends up right back where he started.

Hurting the people he loves.

And he’s scared—terrified—that one day, Wade is going to see it, too. Wade, with his big, dumb heart, his never-ending jokes, his reckless love. One day, Wade is going to look at him and realize that Logan isn’t the man he thinks he is. He’s not the hero Wade keeps saying he is. He’s not even close.

Logan knows what he is. He’s not some violent version of Wolverine, driven by animal instinct. 

It’s always there, bubbling beneath the surface—the need to lash out, to hurt before he can be hurt, to bite before someone bites him.

Like tonight. Wade’s terrified face, the way he pleaded, how he sobbed in Logan’s arms... it broke something inside him. Shattered him. He had caused that. His anger, his inability to stop himself. He thought Wade could take it. Hell, he thought Wade would crack a joke, maybe laugh it off, because that’s what Wade does.

But Wade hadn’t laughed. Wade had begged.

It always finds a way out. Like he’s hardwired to destroy the people he cares about. It’s not the claws or the healing factor that make him dangerous. It’s him.

And he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Wade sees him as something better. Someone better.Wade’s always looking at him like he’s some sort of hero, like he’s more than just the violence and the blood and the pain. Wade loves him for reasons Logan can’t even begin to understand. But how long can that last? How long until Wade realizes what Logan really is?

An animal. A killer. A man who hurts to hurt.

Logan is terrified that one day, Wade’s going to wake up and see him for what he is—the man who bites because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. The man who destroys everything good that comes into his life because he’s too damn broken to keep it together. And when that day comes, when Wade finally realizes that Logan isn’t the hero he’s been pretending to be, he’ll leave.

Logan knows it. He’s seen it happen before. Everyone he loves, everyone who gets too close, ends up broken. Logan bites, and they bleed. They always bleed.

He’ll hurt Wade. It's not a matter of if, but when.Despite everything, despite his best intentions, he’ll push too hard, too far, and Wade will see him for what he is—what he’s always been—and walk away.

The truth is, Logan doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He doesn’t want to lose Wade.

But maybe that’s who he is. Maybe he’s just built that way, doomed to destroy everything good in his life. And maybe one day, Wade will understand that. Maybe one day, Wade will look at him with fear, the same way everyone else does, and Logan will have to face the fact that he’s lost the one good thing he’s had in years.

Because Logan doesn’t know why he bites. He just knows that one day, it’ll be too much, and the man he loves will leave him behind, just like everyone else. And that day, Logan won’t be able to blame it on the Wolverine.

[the-writerwoman]

Happy holidays 🎅🏻🎄🎁☃️ I bring you the gift of angst!

Another 4am brainrot as my baby kept me up most of the night.

In this one, Logan and Wade fight against a mutant, not knowing that they can go through time and send people through time. Logan ends up getting sent back in time. To 2016, but he doesn’t know it until he tries to regroup at Sister Margaret’s and Weasel doesn’t know who he is. He waits for Wade anyway, but instead of the red leather clad weirdo he was used to, in walked the unblemished, full head of haired mercenary. Before he met Vanessa, before he got his cancer diagnosis. Logan was in trouble. Especially when Wade finds out that Logan is the very wolverine he’d admired as a kid, and he declares them soulmates and tries to chase after him and if Logan’s not careful, then the whole of Wade’s future could be changed.

This scene is after Wade finds out Logan is from the future, and what the consequences could be if the future was changed.

Hope you enjoy!

——————————

The tension in the room was suffocating as Logan stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Wade’s chest felt tight as he waited for Logan to say something, anything, that could make sense of the situation.

“I don’t know,” Logan said finally, his voice raw. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. The timeline is delicate, Wade. If you decide not to go through with the program, or if you don’t fall in love with Vanessa when you’re supposed to, everything changes. Everything goes wrong.”

Wade frowned, stepping closer, his voice low. “What does that mean, Logan? Why does it all matter so much? I don’t even know a Vanessa.”

Logan hesitated, the pain in his eyes evident as he looked at Wade. “Because if you don’t become who you’re meant to be, you won’t be the man who saves me. You won’t pull me out of my universe when it matters most. And if that doesn’t happen…”

Logan’s voice cracked, and he looked away, his hands curling into fists. “Then I stay in my world.”

Wade tilted his head, his chest aching at the sight of Logan’s visible anguish. “What’s so bad about staying in your world?”

Logan let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the question. “If I stay in my world… I spend the rest of my life hated. Hunted. Spat on. I’ve worked on it. I know I’m not to blame, but in my world, the X-Men were attacked while I wasn’t there. I came back to find them all… gone.”

Wade’s heart sank, his breath catching as Logan’s voice broke.

“Jean, Scott… even the kids,” Logan continued, his voice trembling. “All of them. Dead. And I wasn’t there to stop it.”

Wade’s stomach twisted painfully as Logan paused, swallowing hard.

“I lost it,” Logan admitted, his voice thick with guilt. “The rage took over, and I… I killed people. People who didn’t deserve it. I let it consume me.” His shoulders shook slightly, and when he looked back at Wade, there were tears glistening in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter how much time passes. I’ll always be the man who let them die.”

Wade couldn’t take it anymore. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled Logan into a hug. Logan froze for a moment, his breath catching, before his arms wrapped tightly around Wade. He clung to him as if Wade were the only thing holding him together, his breaths shaky against Wade’s neck.

“It’s not your fault,” Wade murmured, his voice soft but firm. “None of it is your fault, Logan.”

Logan didn’t say anything, but the way his grip tightened spoke volumes. Wade held him closer, his own chest aching at the thought of this version of Logan, so broken, so weighed down by guilt and grief.

After a while, Wade gently pulled back, his hands resting on Logan’s shoulders. He tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to Logan’s temple, a quiet, comforting gesture. Logan closed his eyes at the contact, his breathing still uneven.

Wade’s lips hovered for a moment before he shifted, catching Logan’s lips in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. Logan didn’t pull away, but he didn’t respond either, as if he were frozen in place.

When Wade pressed again, Logan responded tentatively, then with more certainty. His hands found Wade’s waist, grounding himself in the moment. For a fleeting moment, everything felt right.

But then Logan pulled back with a sharp breath, his eyes wide. “We can’t,” he said, his voice strained.

Wade blinked, his heart pounding. “Why not?”

Logan shook his head, though his hands didn’t leave Wade’s waist. “Because… if we do this, if I let this happen, it could ruin everything. The timeline, the future, it’s too risky.”

Wade’s jaw tightened, and he reached up to cup Logan’s face, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Logan, listen to me. I’ll do it. Everything I’m supposed to. The program, the torture, hell, I’ll even fall in love with this Vanessa when the time comes, if that’s what it takes. But don’t push me away. Not now. Not when I have you right here.”

Logan looked at him, his resolve visibly crumbling. “Wade…”

“Please,” Wade whispered, his voice trembling. “If this is all we get, if this is all we’re allowed, then let us have it. Just this once.”

Logan closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. Wade didn’t give him time to argue. He leaned in again, capturing Logan’s lips in another kiss, more desperate this time. Logan groaned softly, his hands gripping Wade’s waist as he finally gave in.

[twilights-stuff]

Trigger Warning: Angst, so so much angst, death and depictions of grief

I'm not sure if anyone has pointed this out, but in all the months I have been in the poolverine fandom, I haven't seen anyone (as far as I'm aware) entertain or acknowledge the possibility or implications of Logan being the one to bury all of the X-men and the rest of the mutants that got killed in the X-Mansion when he found them after coming back drunk from a bar. Like imagine the angst and whump potential of it all, the shock he first felt when he noticed the signs of a break in, then the horror as he sees the bodies, the grief, sorrow and pain crashing down on him as he sees that no mutant survived and everyone in the mansion is dead, his guilt as he realized how he could have been there to protect them and how he blames himself for not being there, for abandoning the people he had grown to care for because he could never allow himself to be part of anything. Imagine the heaviness in his chest as he realizes the only thing he can do for them now is to bury them, each and every single one of them. Imagine how much time he spent in the mansion grounds, digging a grave for each mutant and carrying their lifeless bodies to their final resting place, how he holds their body in his arms, trying to tell himself that they're just asleep yet his sensitive hearing picks up no heartbeat. This is possibly the only time he has ever held any of them close in his arms. They're gone and dead, because of him. He tells himself he's used to it by now, he SHOULD be used to it by now, being the one to bury those he loves. But with every body buried, every graved marked, he doubts that idea. Sometimes, there's not even a body for him to bury or a body whose name he could mark. He grieves that he hadn't been able to know the rest of them well. He finishes by nightfall, X-Mansion now turned into a cemetery, a grim reminder of Logan's failure. The physical embodiment of his title as the Worst Wolverine in the entire multiverse. He tries to deliver them justice, avenging them by hunting and killing those who killed them, he lets his rage and violence win over his grief and starts mercilessly killing, turning humanity even more against mutant kind. Yet, his rage does not linger forever. Eventually, he comes back to the mansion with nothing but a graveyard to welcome him. All his anger have left, his only solace is at the bottom of a bottle. Every night, he stays in the mansion grounds to feel taste of whiskey burning down his throat. Every night, he regrets on what he has lost. Eventually, he leaves and moves from place to place, bar to bar, trying to forget. He can't and he never will. It eats him up inside no matter how many glasses he has downed.

Now, he is with Wade, his pain and loss still lingering but being with his current little family is enough to lessen the hurt. Still, he fears he'll have to bury them too. Yet, he lets his fears be dampened by mouthful merc who took his heart, he assures himself he'll never abandon his family again, that he'll be there. He lets his love foster and his fondness grow. Perhaps, he thinks, one day he would have to bury them, but at least they'll have the knowledge the he'll bury them after loving them enough. Perhaps, he thinks, one day, someone would love him enough to bury him, too.

Look, I just think this concept should be more explored in the fan works. If there are works that did, please send me a link! I would love to read them.

[boneyspades]

GUYS I CANNOT HOLD IT IN ANYMORE I MUST TISM. I MUST RANT. I MUST EXPRESS MYSELF. I MUST GNAW MYSELF OUT OF MY ENCLOSURE

here are some of my Orange side ideas or predictions or whatever. now let me cook chat. (also I'm kinda just making this before the season finale cus Thomas said he was working on it

imma put a cw here for mentions of religion, so if you don't wanna see that then U don't have to read this lmao

ok so imma kinda categorise this in different categories I guess and I'll try my best to be short and sweet about it whilst also kinda just like... explain my reasoning? (edit: I failed. DW I highlighted the main points just in case U don't wanna read all that)

what I think the side represents

what he looks like(aesthetic?)

powers???

personality? what he's gon be like?

what's his intentions??

and idk just other things I think of on the way

What does this fuck head represent in Thomas?

I think this just goes without saying but like imma say Rage or Wrath. I remember these mfs on yt (can't remember the name) saying they predict it was gonna be rage and honestly it would be so fitting.

like fr, Logan literally SNAPPING at Remus cus he wasn't being listened to and his eyes TURNING ORANGE?

Thomas being MAD at Niko to the point where he was gonna UNALIVE THE FAKE NIKO that Remus conjured up to fuck with Thomas?!

THOMAS'S JUST BEING MAD AT NIKO IN GENERAL FOR NOT ANSWERING HIM?!?!

ROMAN AT THE END OF SVS REDUX?!?!?!? BITCH WE KNOW WHATS COMING!!!!!

its just UUUUUGH I WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY BUT I LOVE THEIR INNER TURMOIL

how many stars am I gonna give him in dress to impress (aesthetics??? traits??? idk)

ok so I kinda was not quite sure about this one for a bit but then I remembered the dark sides, Remus and Janus's specifically (and I guess Patton too but like he's a "light" side but just hear me out) have had religion tied into them in some way; Janus kinda being inspired by the snake at the tree of life and even said himself "what am I doing here, am I the SNAKE COME TO TRICK YOU INTO SINNING?".(was gonna get video reference but apparently I can't have more than one video. sucks)

Remus is I guess religiously tied, using alot of religious language to mess with Thomas... like... alot...

Patton kinda just looks like a religious dad whose marriage is crumbling apart. but I think someone said that he also represents his Catholic guilt??? tho I could be wrong, I don't remember, but it fits considering he's literally the opposite of janus.

BUT ANYWAYS..... i think, clothing wise, orange could potentially dress as a priest??? or like a leader of a cult?? think robes and stuff. I mostly think of The One Who Waits from cult of the lamb or even the lamb itself since like... a the leader of the cult-... speaking of lambs. i think everyone's well aware that all the sides have a physical trait of some kind, something they take the form of I guess;

Logan= teacher

Roman= prince

Patton= dad

Virgil= (emo) spider? cat?? idk???

Janus= snake obvi

Remus= a duke and Cthulhu for some reason?

and now hear me out:

Orange= LAMB OR GOAT???!!!

correct me if I'm wrong but lambs and goats have been tied to religion alot (also I saw someone say lamb or goat as well and I think it would be so fucking cool), but if not, I have two other ideas... hear me out...

AN ANGEL?!?!

A BIBLICALLY ACCURATE ANGEL?!?!

NO CUS LIKE THEY LOOK SPOOKY ALREADY, IMAGINE IF LIKE HE WAS JUST OFF PUTTING PHYSICALLY AND PERSONALITY WISE. and also tying with with religion too

and the third, and this one is just cus I like robot characters BUT HEAR ME OUT! a specific genre of robot like GLaDOS from portal, AM from I have no mouth and I must scream (idk I haven't played the game), Cyn from murder drones, deviants in general from detroit become human. what do they have in common? (probably Ive only indulged in 3/4 medias mentioned)

FILLED. WITH. RAGE. OR. JUST. ABSOLUTELY. POWER. HUNGRY!!!!!

I feel like orange would be the mf to try and control all the sides. and just idk the fact that alot of these SciFi robot media have something to do with robots and are just filled with so much anger and hate for someone or people. idk just a silly thing I thought of.

what powers can this little bitch do

ok so I think everyone already knows that the sides have inhuman abilities (cus they aren't human but like anyways) like for example:

they can all shapeshift

they can mimic other peoples voices which I think is THE COOLEST THING EVER

they can I guess teleport??? does sinking down and rising up count as teleporting???

and I guess make Thomas see things that I guess aren't there? bitch idk

but I also do think that the sides all have INDIVIDUAL abilities only they can do:

janus can sense any lies coming from the sides (at least I think so)

Patton can turn into a frog for some reason? is there an explanation for that tho cus like?- (it's cool af tho)

I think Roman and Remus are the only ones that can conjure things up outside the MindPalace correct me if I'm wrong

Remus can give Thomas and the sides hallucinations or intrusive thoughts (cus... yk... that's what he is)

virgil can control SHADOWS?!? WHAT A FUCKING BADASS

Logan can speak through Thomas (like during Moving On part 2)

but what about orange you may ask. lets go over the obvious one first:

the ability to make a side let out any repressed anger I guess?

or I guess make a side get like... REALLY pissed off or something idk

I won't really go in depth with that one cus I think everyone knows that, but this next one I STRONGLY feel for. HERE ME OUT.

POSSESION.

now I think this will be different from how orange used his other power on Logan. BUT. the way I see it, I think that the orange side would have the ability to take FULL control of a side based on how much anger or negative feelings they're feeling, ykwim? and, now here me out, in return, kind of nullifies the effects that side has on Thomas. like for example, say Patton is all angy. bro is mayor of Angyvile. U went into an angy competition and you see Patton? you lost, bitch. anyways, the orange side, would have the ability to just be like possess him like a fucking demon. because of this, Thomas would feel less empathy, emotions, etc, because Patton is basically that. but I feel it'd look alot different than what we saw in WTIT, cus Logan was still in control of himself. but like I want it to look CREEPY AF. MAKE THEM DO SPOOKY THINGS, THOMAS. MAKE THEM LOOK POSSESSED, NOT THAT FUCKING "heh, finally. feels so good to be free 🐺😈💪💔⛓️" NO. MAKE THEM LOOK LIKE THEY'VE GOT SATAN CONTROLLING THAT BITCH. I WANT MORE SPOOKY. I also think he'd use this ability on Logan the most for obvious reasons

personality or something idk

alright so I feel like this one will be alot shorter than my other points, but personality wise... I WANT HIM TO BE A FUCKING ASSHOLE. I WANT HIM TO BE MEAN. I WANT HIM TO BE TERRIFYING, PSYCHOLOGICALLY.

I want him to be SO FUCKING MANIPULATIVE DAWG. i literally think that wrath could be the leader of the dark sides and be the one that makes Virgil (pre AA), Remus and even Janus fall for a fake sense of security whilst also using them for his personal gain and his personal gain ALONE. I want him to be a terrifying side, cus yeah, the dark sides are scary but they've been proven to not be as scary as they seem:

virgil (pre AA) was always seen as scary but even in the episode with Superwoman (aka his first appearance) it's shown that he is easy to manage. and even during and after AA, all he wanted was to protect Thomas and help him. he was just basically misunderstood

Janus is a kinda harder one to explain, but I guess its similar to virgil. all he wanted was Thomas to do something for himself (go to the callback) and practice self care, but because he is the embodiment of Deceit, he kinda just is seen as a purely bad thing. Thomas says it say better at the end of SVS redux.

Remus I feel is alot different. he's a fucking asshole cus he wants to be, he's not all "I want Thomas to just be happy and I want to do what's best for him" NO. he wants to make Thomas's life HELL, or just turn him into a professional people opener. BUT, in DWIT, Logan has proven that Intrusive thoughts can be dealt with and that they're not as scary as Thomas thinks.

I want orange to be so terrifying as a concept that not even Logan can make an argument where Thomas can deal with him. I want him to be so fucking bad that not even Patton wants to be his friend. but like make him a silly guy :) (also I feel like the orange side and Remus would be besties)

what does this bitch WAAAANT

ok so this one will be quite short. but I feel like the orange side would want Thomas to live a life where he takes revenge on the people who have wronged him. maybe try to make Thomas into a professional people opener. that's why I think orange and Remus would get along so well. if rage blinds morality and logic, then Intrusive thoughts can become reality. thats what I think at least. I feel like the orange side would try and trap the other sides and repress them somehow, except Remus and Janus.

ok that's it